3. Baseball on the radio: If football talk is the sound of sports radio in the daytime, then baseball is its lifeblood after dark. If the nighttime sky is clear and the signals bounce just right, I can hear the Cardinals in Padukah, the Indians in Cairo, the Red Sox on Lookout Mountain, and the Orioles in Gastonia.

4. USA Basketball: It’s been a long time since anyone with any sense called America’s Olympic men’s basketball the Dream Team, but next week we ought to at least see a group of NBA stars who can finally dispel the international nightmare. The USA men will play in the Olympic qualifying tournament next week in Las Vegas, and USA Basketball has its best chance to field a team that will stop being an embarrassment on the international stage. This team, led by Kobe Bryant, actually has been assembled to be a real “team,” not some showy and greatly flawed all-star barnstorming team. There are team players on this squad, guys willing to do dirty work. There are pure shooters on this team who really know how to knock down three-pointers. There are hard-nosed defenders on this team who will climb in somebody’s face. I want to watch these guys play on TV next week. I haven’t felt that way in a long time.

5. Sports on HBO: It doesn’t matter if it’s Bryant Gumbel or Bob Costas or the reality show “Hard Knocks,” whatever HBO touches is gold. It’s intelligent, clever and always leaves you saying “I didn’t know that.”

6. Saturday nights in Baton Rouge: I’ve been covering sports for more than 30 years and there are few things remaining on my to-do list, but going to an LSU game on a Saturday night in Baton Rouge is one of the last remaining things I must do before I die. For a football lover, this borders on a religious pilgrimage.

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7. Minor league baseball: It’s a sweet summer night in small-town America, and folks are walking towards the ethereal glow of ballpark lights. The other night in Asheville, N.C., while the rest of the country was suffocating in a 100-degree-plus heat wave, a soothing summer breeze gently blew off the Blue Ridge Mountains as Asheville Tourist fans strolled towards McCormick Field. It was 85 degrees Tuesday night, and this sure felt like perfection.

In a few days vacation will be over, and perfection will blow away like that cool mountain breeze. There will be stories to tell, truths to be told, realities to confront. But for now, paradise is on my radio, and I hear Bubba calling my name.

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