Starved for content

Memorial Day weekend, and let's raise a glass to a Memorial Day weekend Sunday that almost felt like a regular sports Sunday. It wasn't, but you could kinda pretend it was.

There was no Indianapolis 500, but there was a Coca-Cola 600, which used to be called the World 600, which is kind of funny because no one in the world was allowed to be there in person.

There was no baseball or playoff basketball or the Greater Velveeta Open live from Froghair Crick Country Club and Horseshoe Emporium, but there was The Match 2, which was almost the same.

We got to watch it rain on Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson and Peyton Manning and Tom Brady. We got to watch Brady mis-hit golf balls and not be, you know, so damn perfect, except when he holed out that wedge on No. 7.

And we got to listen to Peyton Manning explain why he was wearing a pink shirt instead of being twinsies with teammate Tiger, who was wearing his requisite Sunday red and black.

Basically, it was because Peyton's a Tennessee guy, and red and black are Georgia's colors, and hell no he wasn't gonna wear the school colors of THOSE country sonsabitches.

Or something like that.

Anyway, people loved it. And I suspect part of why they loved it, aside from it being pretty entertaining, was because people were sitting on their couches watching live almost-sports on a holiday Sunday afternoon. And so for a few hours it almost felt as if human beings were masters of their own fate again, instead of being at the mercy of a microscopic red-and-gray virus that looks sort of like an Ohio State Koosh ball.

As athletic directors and ESPN commentators and pro sports czars like to say these days, we are Starved For Content. Which of course also means we're starved for something else.

Normal, I think it's called.