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Tantalized yesterday by the muscles in my calves that I studied in a mirror while riding the exercise bike at the local gym, the gym manager said “Hey, you’ve been on that bike for a minute.”
She meant, I’m guessing because it wasn’t explicitly stated, that I had been pedaling like Greg Lemond for a long time having a good workout. There was visible proof with the sweat nastying up my shirt and me panting like a poodle dog after a 10-mile jog through the Everglades.
It got me thinking about this “minute” phrase I’ve been hearing the past few months wherever I go – fast food joints, 7-Elevens, Starbucks, Pizza Hut, etc. — “Hey, man, I haven’t seen Joe in a minute”; “It’s been a minute since we went to get greasy buffalo chicken pizza”; “I haven’t read a spy novel in a minute”; “I’ve had sleep apnea for a minute.”
This “it’s been a minute” phrase is spreading across Western and Eastern Europe, and probably Southeast Asia, like ChatGPT, invading our personal space, filling our ears at sports press conferences and random encounters, confusing our thoughts, jolting our sensibilities, dominating conversations and separating the hip people who use the phrase from those who don’t because they’re wedded to non-conformity.
The phrase strikes me as something kind of slick to say if you’re into quips, but the preponderance of my opinion is that it’s unproductive conversation.
Noise without purpose. Feels the same as when “it is what is it” became the hot global phrase that people used to say something deep but when they said it we thought about them: “They don’t want to be precise or don’t know what they think or they’re being coy or it’s been a minute since I heard the phrase it is what is.”
When you say “Hey, it’s been a minute since we last went to Hardees,” I don’t really have a finger-touching sense of what you mean time-wise. Do you mean a week equals a minute or a year equals a minute? And why are you bringing this up? Hardees doesn’t sell the Baconator.
You never explain so I’m left wondering and really not much has happened. You’re so cool you walk away or just leave it hanging to keep me off-kilter. I get it, being cryptic can make you feel powerful and manipulative, but I don’t think it’s going to win you a Nobel Prize or an invite to give a college commencement address which many people want especially me.
Right this minute I want to say to you, since it’s been a minute since we communicated: “hey man, it’s been a minute since you said it’s been a minute” and you don’t really know what I mean but I get cool credits on the Streets of San Francisco and I-95. My veins gush with a Cheery 7-Eleven Slurpee Big Gulp, and it’s been a minute since you heard that reference.
It’s been a minute, man. No, it hasn’t. How long has it really been? Give me something I can intellectually process that makes sense. I need you to be more precise. Sammy Sportface is surgical in his thinking; amorphous thinking makes him twitch. Concrete precision is his superpower, details his nectar, accuracy his bedrock.
Hey man, it’s been a minute since I have been to the Seashell Hotel in Myrtle Beach, Cape Canaveral, Bourbon Street, Wyoming off-Broadway theatre, or the Department of Motor Vehicles. It’s been a minute since this blog started. It’s been a minute since the world separated into seven continents. It’s been a minute since the Washington Football Team won a Super Bowl. It’s been a minute since I wrote about Caitlin Clark.
Got a minute? No?
Wait a minute.
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Sammy Sportface, a sports blogger, galvanizes, inspires, and amuses The Baby Boomer Brotherhood. And you can learn about his vision and join this group's Facebook page here:
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