When my son James was in his final year of high school, I made him go to bed at the end of the third quarter of Game 4 of the NBA Finals between the Miami Heat and Antonio Spurs. He had a final exam the next day, and he needed his sleep, I explained.
As I wrote about previously, that fourth quarter turned out to be not just thrilling but pivotal in the series. My son has never let me forget it.
Last night, I sat through the entire Oscar broadcast. I hardly ever do. But whether it was inertia or wanting to see how this La La Land backlash would play out, I made it all the way through. Almost.
Meanwhile, as we were getting down to the final categories, James kept flipping over to the Clippers-Hornets game during the commercials. The clock was winding down there too, and the teams were neck and neck. The basketball breaks kept getting longer and longer, until I would eventually grunt and James would flip back to the Oscars.
When the Clippers game went into overtime, I switched to the Oscars long enough to see the jubilant La La Land filmmakers burst out of their chairs to receive their awards. There you go. I’d heard enough speeches for the night.
“It’s all yours,” I told James, and went to bed.
Well, you know the rest.
I’d say we’re even.