Norman Chad: Kidney stones win out over NFL draft
Last week I had a choice – pass some kidney stones or watch the NFL draft. To preserve my mental health, I passed on the draft.
The draft is an annual event, which I have witnessed a couple dozen times; on the other hand, I only had passed kidney stones once previously. If variety is the spice of life, it was time to pee some blood again!
By the way, if you’re wondering why I have followed the NFL draft almost every year of my sad-sack adult life, it is a result of graduating from the University of Maryland with a degree in American Studies and no visible or marketable skills to speak of, other than watching sports on TV. I was George Costanza before George Costanza.
As much as any single entity, the NFL draft represents the unrelenting, unshakable, unforgiving sports boom in American culture over the past half-century. Once an excessive one-day affair, the draft has morphed into an uber-excessive three-day prime time event. And beyond that telecast tonnage itself, NFL draftology now operates 365 days a year.
(Mel Kiper Jr. could’ve turned his longtime Punxsutawney Phil act into a run for the presidency last year. Trump might’ve been tough to beat, but Kiper would’ve pilloried Hillary.)
Like many silent sufferers worldwide, I am in an ongoing battle against the holy trinity of mid-section maladies – hemorrhoids, Irritable Bowel Syndrome and kidney stones. Hemorrhoids are irritating, IBS is irritatingly and irritably explosive, and kidney stones, well, kidney stones make IBS look like a hangnail.
When diagnosed with kidney stones the first time in 2011, I asked my pediatrician if prolonged exposure to Chris Berman could’ve created, or at least exacerbated, them. Although initially skeptical, he is still researching this, hoping for a “medical breakthrough.”
The only fond memory from the 2011 saga was this: While trying to pass the stones, I played some of my best poker ever on the game’s biggest stage. At the World Series of Poker – facing abdominal pain, lower-back agony and endless rushed trips to the restroom while dodging autograph seekers – I finished 12th in a field of 606 in the $1,500-buyin stud high-low event, earning $10,676 and raising hopes for the next generation of bad-card-playing kidney stones ne’er-do-wells.
Some athletes play hurt; I played from the brink of renal apocalypse.
But those stones were stubborn. My doctors decided a surgical procedure was needed – they laser-blasted the stones into smaller bits and inserted a stent to insure a safer passage to the promised land. The aftermath of this procedure was quite unpleasant, but it worked.
Yet then it got worse – in order to remove the stent, they must insert a tube through a very, very sensitive part of the male anatomy. The urologist warned me that this would entail 10 or 15 seconds of the greatest discomfort I have ever felt. He undersold it – it felt like Skip Bayless and Stephen A. Smith being dragged through my urethra.
Which brings us back to Chris Berman.
I had watched almost every NFL draft dating back to 1987, but he had anchored ESPN’s draft coverage every year since 1987.
Until now.
In semi-retirement, Berman was off the draft telecast, replaced by Trey Wingo. Trey Wingo? What’s that, some type of New York state daily lotto game? Trey Wingo? No. Berman was the perfect excessive soundtrack to the excesses of the NFL draft; if no excess, they regress.
So, for the second time in six years, I gamely dealt with kidney stones.
This time around, I needed a double stent plus the hospital food at Cedars-Sinai nearly slayed me, but I was saved by the incredibly efficient staff. The nurses assigned to me – J.C., Rosa, Helen, Angie, Marlena and Sahlu – were more attentive to my needs than any of the attendants at any of my weddings.
(FYI: Toni was beside me for most of this ordeal, though at times she appeared to be rooting for the stones.)
Anyway, all’s well that ends well – I passed the stones with honors, and the Browns, of course, failed to find a franchise quarterback at the NFL draft.
Ask The Slouch
Q. Love “Top 10 Plays of the Night” on “SportsCenter,” but there’s never a bowling highlight. Is there such a thing? (Jeff Clausen; Spokane)
A. Listen, pal, I’ll take a “Greek Church” split pickup over a “Greek Freak” slam dunk every day and twice on Sundays.
Q. How long is a 30-second NFL timeout and how long is a 20-second NBA timeout? (Jerry O’Shaughnessy; Vienna, Va.)
A. Use this as a guide: When I ask my wife how much longer till she’s ready and she says, “Five minutes,” I automatically assume 10 minutes.
Q. If I were you, I’d stick to Twitter – after 140 characters, you tend to lose steam. Thoughts? (Brian Levitt; Minneapolis)
A. You prefer 140 characters from me, buddy? I only need 14: Go fly a kite.
Q. If European basketball leagues adopted the “American Step,” would dribbling soon become obsolete? (Dan Cantwell; Albany, N.Y.)
A. Pay the man, Shirley.
Norman Chad is a syndicated columnist. You can enter the $1.25 Ask The Slouch Cash Giveaway. Just email asktheslouch@aol.com and, if your question is used, you win $1.25 in cash!