By Michael Tsai
Advertiser Staff Writer

Encouraging Servitude through Psychic Neutering? Evil Spans Public Networking? Every Sport, the People's Narcotic? Enervating Scads of Pithy Nonsense?

Hey, however your spell it out, ESPN is the devil.

Worse than the devil, actually. The monolithic sports cable network is the irresistible force that turns men into immovable objects.

Like that bewitching ex all your friends hated, or that dubious IPO tip from cousin Izzy, or that second greasy piroshki, ESPN is too bad to be good for us, but too goood to ignore.

In the interest of full disclosure, I should mention that this hysterical hand-wringing is brought to you by 12 hours of college basketball, four consecutive late-night editions of SportsCenter, one brand-new episode of "Dream Job" (taped), one pile of dirty laundry and the letters E-S-P-N.

Oh, the torment! Every pulse of my college-imprinted, liberal-journalist, screw-Starbucks conscience says I should spit in disgust at the myriad ways "The Worldwide Leader" insinuates itself into my home and my person. I'm repulsed at the way the network cynically builds and manipulates associations between real sport and mass merchandizing. I chafe at its constant demands for my attention, my loyalty and my debit-card number.

But man, do I buy in.

I pay $40 a year to be an ESPN.com Insider. I get ESPN the Magazine (and the annual ESPN fleece sweater that comes with it). I've made the pilgrimage to the ESPN Zone in Manhattan, where I bought ESPN the aloha shirt and ESPN the medium-rare ribeye. I drink coffee from ESPN the coffee mug.

And to be honest, on a daily basis, none of this really bothers me. Our contemporary consumer culture teaches us to appreciate good branding, and ESPN has ingrained in all men a very simple equation:

ESPN = Sports. Sports good.

But maybe, just maybe, ESPN is too good for our own, um, good. Their programmers certainly have vision. Who would have thought that bowling, poker and fly fishing were viable TV entertainment?

Who would have imagined that the most entertaining half hour on TV might be two bald sportswriters arguing about sports? (Certainly no one who's ever worked in a sports department).

That's all swell and neato-bob. Problem is, for the last year or so, the network has felt compelled to abuse its dark power, branching out into pop-genre programming of the sort we men historically turn to sports to avoid.

Yet, we watch, because it's (sort of) sports and it's ESPN.

I've never seen a single minute of "The Sopranos," but I watched every episode of the now-canceled ESPN-produced drama "Playmakers." I've railed endlessly about all those contrived reality shows on network TV, but when ESPN told me to watch "Dream Job," in which regular Joes and Janes compete for an ESPN anchor spot, I obeyed. Sheesh, I almost wept when Casey and Kelly got bounced last week.

And the ESPN morning show "Cold Pizza," why ... why ... OK, I can't actually bring myself to watch that one. But I did peek in for about 30 seconds once — and that's 30 seconds more than I'll ever spend with Matt Lauer.

The simple answer, of course, is to stop watching. And that's exactly what I intend to do.

As soon as ESPN says it's OK.

Reach Michael Tsai at 535-2461 or mtsai@honoluluadvertiser.com.