I have worked with a homosexual. This person never admitted that sexual preference to me, but had to others. I have never asked this person about it because it’s none of my business. This person is not a criminal. This person doesn’t hurt children. This person is just like you and me in every way with the possible exception of a mate. Okay, cool. End of story.

The only problem is, it’s not the end of the story, just the beginning. We live in a world where other individual’s flaws or shortcomings (true or perceived) are exploited to the absolute fullest. I never watch any celebrity-dish television, and I still know almost every gory detail about Anna Nicole Smith, Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears. It’s unavoidable whether you hear the stories at the water cooler, see a news headline or listen to your favorite late-night host joke about it. That’s our culture. We revel in other’s misery and turn non-stories into month-long sagas.

Recently, former NBA journeyman John Amaechi announced that he was gay and was soon to be releasing a book about himself. I didn’t care. I couldn’t even remember who the guy was. A hair less recently, two African-Americans coached the Super Bowl for the first time. I didn’t care. Am I pleased that not only one, but two have coached the big game? Sure thing. Is it nice to have out of the way? You bet! I cared more that I have never once heard a negative word about these gentleman for anything other than a coaching miscue. As far as I’m concerned, Jon Gruden was a fill-in for Tony Dungy’s first Super Bowl team -- all he did was come in for a save.

The most recent sporting news-drama occurred this past week when former NBA guard, Tim Hardaway came clean on his homophobia. I was far from shocked that he felt the way he did. There is nothing untypical about his locker-room behavior spilling over into real life. I was, however, floored, that he would say the idiotic things he did on national radio. And most of all, I don’t care. The Hardaway I know had a good, if not revolutionary, crossover dribble and a knuckleball jump shot. I don’t know or care what kind of cologne he likes, what he puts on his steak, or who he goes to bed with.

To me, the bigger problem in the NBA is that most guys average more illegitimate children than All-Star appearances. And, while I feel for the father-less children, I don’t even really care about that either. I know about it. Don’t care about it.

When I was a youngster, I was oft criticized for my attitude. I was better than my contemporaries at most things; school, sports, music. The thing was, I had the attitude of, “I don’t care.” If my social studies grade dropped from an A to a C, I didn’t care. I up and quit playing basketball and football because I didn’t care; I took up the guitar. I quit playing the guitar because I took up a job, I didn’t care. In many ways this was an awful attitude, but I’m going to readopt it.

The next time an athlete does something stupid and people want to talk about it I’m going to ask myself, “Does this effect me in any way?” Will this hurt anyone in my family? Will this directly effect my income or the economics of our nation? If none are applicable, I’ll pass -- tell it to the next Joe.

The problem with these stories isn’t the people involved. It’s people like myself writing and talking about them. Don’t give a story legs, and it won’t walk.

Our meathead, locker-room, “I’m–a-badder-dude-than-you” culture begs for this type of thinking. I had the opportunity with an hour-long drive last week to catch the end of a nationally televised ESPN radio show in which the fill-in host was waxing poetic about both Hardaway’s comments and the decision to remove the University of Illinois’ Native-American mascot. When he cut to a commercial break, the local show set to follow his cut a promo from a tavern location previewing their show and ripping him for having sincere thoughts about “serious” topics. This of course, sent the locals (in the bar at 3:00) into such a rousing cheer you’d think Michael Jordan just walked in.

You might think I’m making a big deal -- or too little a deal out of what we discuss in our society. I just don’t care.