As faithful, long-time readers will doubtless remember, I have a daydream that plays in my head sometimes during my ironing sessions, those endless minutes, usually on Sunday evenings or Monday mornings, when I perpetuate the illusion that I give a damn how I look by steaming a few of deeper arroyos out of the shirts I anticipate I might wear in the upcoming week.
In my daydream, I am a champion ironer. I compete at the international level. My likeness adorns Wheaties boxes. My Olympic records for endurance ironing have remained unchallenged for a generation, although there are some skeptics who feel that they should be marked in the record books with an asterisk, because the altitude of Mexico City gave me an unfair advantage. I am looking forward to London and have secretly been honing my high-humidity left-handed collar technique. In order to find my peers, you must look to other sports: Michael Jordan has been called the “Danny O’Bigbelly of basketball.”
In real life, there is not much basis for these fantasies. In truth, my efforts are so ineffectual that I sometimes mistake the “done” pile with the “to-do” pile of shirts. I thank my lucky stars for bulky sweaters.
So, are there any sports that you have invented in your head? Are you the world-champion, or a contender waiting for your big break?
