I got it bad. I feel the craving from the moment I wake up. Lying there in bed, I can’t wait. I need a fix, and I need it fast.

Gotta get me some deflate-gate.
Before my feet hit the floor, I flip on the radio and start dial spinning. What’s the latest? Whaddya got? Who's gonna give me a dose of PSI-parsing, Goodell-bashing, take-no-prisoners, high-octane sports-talk outrage? Luckily for me, there’s plenty of it. Boston sports radio has become all deflate-gate, all the time, mostly at a volume level just to the south of screech and an emotional level slightly to the north of frenzy. I can’t get enough. I hang on every word. Toucher and Rich have a new analysis of why the NFL’s case is weak? I begin to feel the buzz. Gerry Callaghan brings up the Ideal Gas Law. I enter a state of euphoric bliss. But I know it is only temporary. Soon I will come down and need to start searching for another fix.
Once upon a time there were other things in my life. Career. Family. But they are a dim memory. Now unfinished work piles up as I navigate to Google to see if I can find just one deflate-gate article I haven’t already read. What’s this? A new rap by Akrobat? A new rant by Dan Shaughnessy? Greedily I consume them. But it’s never enough, and soon I’m trolling for more. Twitter, what have you got? Feed me! Feed me!
At the end of the day, my wife Marilyn wants to talk about her job, politics, the kitchen renovation. I only want to talk about the Wells Report in Context, McNally and Jastremski, Chris Mortenson and Mike Kensil. Over and over in an endless loop, like Charlie on the MTA, riding forever beneath the streets of Boston. I’m hooked. Will I ever return?
Deflate-gate is frighteningly addictive. Golden Boy vs. Goodell is every bit as compelling as Luke Skywalker vs. Darth Vader. (Or Professor Moriarty vs. Sherlock Holmes, depending on your point of view.) It is a Greek tragedy, Shakespearean drama, and morality play all mixed together. It has gone way beyond ball pressure and ball boys. It is about hubris and ego, passion and power, jealousy and hatred, right and wrong. Forget about Breaking Bad or True Detective, I’d rather binge on deflate-gate, which has more than enough story strands involving moral ambiguity and the seamy side of human behavior.
I got a fever! And the only prescription is more deflate-gate!
The crash will come. Soon. The parties are in court this morning. Eventually there will be some sort of resolution, most likely deeply unsatisfying, leaving festering wounds never to heal, but a resolution all the less. The coverage will diminish until it is nearly non-existent. No one will remember who Mike Kensil is any more. I will frantically spin dials, push buttons, and click with my mouse, but there will be no deflate-gate coverage to be found.
For now, I’m just trying to ride the high. I’m beginning to feel a little restless. I haven’t checked out Yahoo sports or ESPN lately. Maybe they will have something. A new legal brief? Some transcripts? Speculation? Anything will do. Cuz I got it bad.