I just got back from a 5-day trip through three events in Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut. If you count layovers in airports, add Baltimore on the first day and Nashville on the last. Today I spent 11 hours and 20 minutes in cars, airports, and airplanes to cover about 3000 miles. I am tired.

This weekend was an experiment to see if traveling and speaking at events is something that I want to do now that I married. I don’t have an answer to my own question yet.

As I type this, the Suns are in the fourth quarter of a much-anticipated game against the San Antonio Spurs. Candyce was kind enough to begin recording the game for me when I was at 25,000 feet over Amarillo, Texas. I bolted through the airport without glancing left or right at the TV screens in the airport sports bars. I didn’t want to know anything about the game.

While I waited for Candyce to pick me up, I opted to leave the massive crowds inside the airport and stand among a handful of smokers outside, because statistically, there was less chance that I’d overhear someone yapping about the game in progress. I still smell a little smoky, but at least I can enjoy the whole game.

The most authentic and engaging game is one that you watch there in the arena. If you can’t be there (and few of us can afford to), the next best thing is watching a live game with friends in your home or at a sports bar. If that’s not doable, then Tivo is there to save the day. It won’t be live, but it’s the same game. It’s an abstract concept, but what I miss most about watching a the game live is the solidarity of emotion that sweeps across a city with each tick of the game.

I admire a fan who can watch every game live, not because he is morally superior, but because he doesn’t live with the anxiety of an impulsive friend calling me and spoiling the end of the game. So with that, I’m going to turn off my phone and close this computer. It’s time to watch the game.