Not so Trivial Pursuits

From time to time I will pick on one of my colleagues at Gardner-Webb, describing him as “a wealth of useless information.” He can produce nugget upon nuggets of trivia that are virtually meaningless to the majority of the population. Of course he deems his offerings as relevant, an assertion I often question. But I will admit his brain’s ability to store and his tongue’s propensity to spout off said information is impressive.

I, too, have digested and compartmentalized numerous slices of trivia pie in my lifetime. I can remember the batting averages of the 1972 Pittsburgh Pirates and almost every score of every football game I played in during my high school days. Useless. Trivial. Irrelevant. Boring.

Just for the record, I never set out to memorize these chunks of info. Honestly, there are thousands of data bits floating around in my head I wish I could flush out and dispose of. But any scientist will tell you that it’s rarely possible to decide what you will remember and what you will forget. In short, I can’t help it that I remember the scores to those games. I’m embarrassed to admit I do, but I shant be ridiculed for it.

Of course all that memorization comes with a price. I have been known to pull out of the driveway and turn the wrong direction on the main road. Occasionally my wife will blurt something like “How can you remember what socks you were wearing the day you played your first Little League baseball game and you can’t even remember where we’re going to eat supper?” Ouch.

I remind her that I can’t pick and choose what my brain recalls. Maybe I could but it would take more energy than I’m capable of expending if I intend to maintain my sanity. After all, I remember lots of relevant items such as the day, month, and year my wife and I first started dating and I never forget our anniversary. So I’m not all bad.

Recently my tendency to retain the largely meaningless came in handy. My wife and I squared off in a trivial-based Playstation game contest against a friend and her son. Our opponents were, shall I say, super intelligent. The kid is a high school genius and his mom is smarter than most of the professors at Harvard.

At first the contests were individual challenges, of which I was able to win my share. But it is the finale of which I am the most proud. My lovely wife and I defeated the two brainiacs in a head-to-head team matchup and with all the modesty I can muster, I can honestly say I was the MVP. The segment pertaining to “80s music” put me over the top.

Perhaps this is why you are forced to read so much about my past experiences in this column each week. Memories dance around in my head desperately searching for avenues of escape. And you, the readers, are way too accommodating. (Thanks.)

By the way, doubt me not. In 1972, Willie Stargell hit .293 with 33 homeruns and Roberto Clemente hit .312, garnering the 3000^th and final hit of his career on the last day of the season against the New York Mets. Just in case you were wondering.