My wife says I have a habit of immersing myself completely in anything that captures my interest.
She’s probably right.
I’ve never been very good at casually liking something. If a subject grabs hold of me, I tend to follow it wherever it leads, usually farther than I intended when I first started.
Sports may have been the earliest example of that.
When I was younger, I didn’t just watch games—I studied them, remembered them, imagined being part of that world. For a while, I thought I might become the next Bob Costas. I loved the writing, the storytelling, the way a game could become something bigger than a box score. Even after I realized television was not my future, and even after newspaper life carried me in another direction, that part of me never really disappeared. I still follow my teams closely, still remember certain games as if they happened yesterday, and still find myself drawn to write about bowl season every winter.
The same pattern has shown up in plenty of other places.
At one point I started collecting shot glasses. It seemed simple enough at first—just a few from places we had been. Before long, I had filled two large display cases, with enough extras waiting around that I probably need a third.
When I began officiating football, I didn’t just try it once or twice. I bought the equipment, learned the mechanics, and worked as many games as the local association would let me handle.
When bourbon became an interest, it followed the same familiar road: one bottle became several, then shelves, then comparisons, tastings, notes, and more conversations than any reasonable person probably needs to have about proof points and mash bills.
And writing may be the clearest example of all.
Because here I am at one in the morning, making sure tomorrow’s blog question is written before I finally call it a night.
I suppose that’s how I lose myself in things—not because I mean to, but because something meaningful catches my attention, and once it does, I want to understand it fully.
Some people dabble.
I apparently settle in.
Copyright © 2026 Doug DeBolt.
