Benny Jay: March Madness

I’m flat on the couch, eating a piece of bread slathered with hummus — damn, this shit is good — and watching March Madness, when the TV gets all fuzzy.

Ah, hell….

Ever since that whole digital thing, whenever a train goes by on the El the screen gets fuzzy. Piece of crap TV….

But now there’s no train passing and the screen’s still fuzzy. Now it turns black and a message flashes on: Weak Signal.

Damn it….

I pull myself up from the couch and look for the remote.  It’s nowhere to be found — damn kids never put it where it’s supposed to go. Finally find it under the cushions on the couch.

I try the other stations — five, seven, nine and so on. All of them work. The only one that doesn’t work is the one I want to watch.

Story of my life….

I tell myself: Be calm. Be logical. Think this through.  You can fix this. You really can. What was that inspirational pep talk Monroe‘s wife Joyce was giving you the other day? Oh, yeah — you’re not as stupid as you think. In fact, you’re not really stupid at all. Okay, maybe a little dumb. But definitely not stupid.

I approach the TV. I look at it. I touch it. I look at it some more. There’s this little dial at the base of the antenna. I reach for it. But I think to myself — nah, things are different since they went digital. Antenna’s don’t work anymore.

I get an idea! I’ll turn it off — like with a computer that’s frozen.

I turn it off. Count to five. Then I turn it back on.

Weak Signal….

Shit….

I whack the TV. You know, like you whack a vending machine that swallows your money without delivering the goods….

Nope — still Weak Signal….

Aw, hell — this shit’s exhausting. I need a break.

I go to the kitchen and pour myself a bowl of raisin bran cereal. Splash on some milk, throw in some bananas — damn, this is good. Start reading yesterday’s newspaper, which is still lying on the kitchen table.

My wife comes home from work.

“What’s the matter with the TV?” she asks.

“It doesn’t work,” I say.

“I know it doesn’t work — that’s why I asked you what’s the matter with it….”

I pretend I don’t hear her. By the way, this is an excellent tactic for you young husbands taking notes at home. It gets `em every time….

“What happened?” she asks.

You know, like I did something wrong….

“How the hell do I know,” I say.

I wander into the living room. She’s standing in one spot — hasn’t even taken off her coat — staring at the TV. I know not to disturb her. Genius at work. She’s in zone. The woman’s like Oral Roberts when it comes to bringing dead appliances back to life. She’s got the healing touch. One of these days I got to tell you about her special talent for fixing vacuum cleaners. Oh, wait — I already did.

I go back to the kitchen. Pour myself another bowl of cereal. Go back to reading yesterday’s newspaper. All of a sudden, I hear the sound of the announcers — crisp and clear.

“You fixed it!” I exclaim.

“It was this dial thing on the antenna,” she explains. “I flipped it.”

“I knew about that dial thing,” I say. “I really did — I swear….”

She’s halfway up the stairs to the bedroom. Couldn’t care less. Probably thinks I’m an idiot. I am an idiot. Oh, well….

I go back to the couch. I settle in — ah — and watch the game. Great game, by the way. Kansas State versus Xavier. They’re going back and forth, heading into double overtime.

It’s so good, I’ve got to talk to someone about it. Call my buddy, Ed, who lives in Tennessee and knows more about college basketball than any man alive.

“You watching this Kansas State game?” I ask him.

“Fuck, no,” he says. “They ain’t showing the good game down here in Klan country. Got this fucking Kentucky bullshit on….”

Oh, yeah, word of warning: Ed swears a lot.

“How come they’re not showing Kansas State?” I ask.

“How the fuck do I know. I’m not even gonna watch this Kentucky bullshit. I’m watching To Sir With Love….”

I don’t blame him. This March Madness stuff can get kind of frustrating if you can’t actually see it….

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