Every summer we're bludgeoned over and over with a sports story that is significant, but just not as significant as the networks' time devoted suggests. A factor, no doubt, of the lack of anything comparable transpiring during the long summer days of July.

Last summer, it was Barry Bonds insufferable home run chase of 755 and all that was dragged along with it. What should happen to the ball? Should 756 get an asterisk? Who's the real home run king? How will everyone react? What is Bonds eating for breakfast? It was nauseating. By the time Bonds reached 755, a life-long hater, I was cheering for the next home run.

Conversely, this summer I've gone from rooting and admiring Brett Favre to hoping he'd simply vanish just as quickly as the Packers playoff hopes.

Then there's the ESPN reporters who transition from informative to trashy gossip junkies. Pedro Gomez, Sal Palantonio and Rachel Nichols become as intolerable as the main characters themselves.

These two stories picked away at our sports souls and forced us to our knees, begging for mercy.

Fortunately, a day was strong enough to stand up and say no more. That day is August 8th, tomorrow, in fact. We can only presume that with the Olympics commencing, Favre news will disappear, at least the hourly updates will.

Ironically, our two long national nightmares have ended on the same day in consecutive summers. And for that, we need to proclaim tomorrow, August 8th, a national holiday.