I was a New Yorker on June 20, 1986, and (then as now) an avid newspaper reader. Today, I guess you'd say I was a voracious consumer of informational content. Anyway, it was with quite a bit of amusement that I read the box on the front page of The New York Times announcing that the paper now accepted that the term "Ms." had become common usage and, accordingly, it would henceforth be adopted as an honorific.

Talk about being late to the party. "Ms." was coined in 1952, entered widespread usage in 1971 with the founding of Ms. magazine and in 1972 when the U.S. Government Printing Office starting using it in official documents, and by mid-1986 had been the center of intense debate in the Times newsroom for more than three years, ever since vice presidential candidate Geraldine Ferraro came on the national scene. (Ms. Ferraro was referred to in the pages of the Times throughout the 1984 Presidential election as "Mrs. Ferraro" even though Ferraro was her maiden name; without "Ms.,"she could only accurately be rendered as Mrs. Zaccaro, her husband's surname.)

I bring this up because a 24 Hour Fitness press release just hit my desk that is the club chain's "Ms." moment. Apparently, the chain "plans to expand its hiring criteria to include several top fitness certifications … as it looks to add to its current roster of more than 3,000 certified personal trainers across the country. "Hoping to fill" "1,200 open positions," 24 Hour "now recognizes accreditations from nine of the nation's most esteemed fitness associations": the American College of Sports Medicine, the American Council on Exercise, the National Academy of Sports Medicine, the National Strength and Conditioning Association, The Cooper Institute, the International Fitness Professionals Association, the National Council on Strength and Fitness, the National Exercise and Sports Trainers Association and the National Federation of Professional Trainers. In addition, "24 Hour Fitness will also accept a fitness-related bachelor's or master's degree as a qualification for a personal training position.

Um, that's everybody, isn't it? Well, okay — it leaves out those trainers who, a la Wile E. Coyote, purchased their certification online from ACME Fitness Certifications Inc. But it does make you wonder who at this moment is training the chain's more than 3.5 million members at more than 400 clubs nationwide. Also, can there really be 1,200 open positions simultaneously at 400 clubs? Did everybody decide to quit together, as a way of sticking it to da man? Did any of them give two weeks' notice?

In 1986, if the Times had simply started using "Ms.," few people would have noticed. Similarly, in 2010, 24 Hour Fitness could have taken out ads or posted an application on its web site, making note in both of the high standards expected of all its personal-trainer applicants. With this effort, 24 Hour Fitness lets everyone see the revolving door leading into and out of its 400 fitness floors.

Normally, awareness of viscous spills at a ballpark is limited to globs of nacho cheese under seats and on the concourse. But as the Crosstown Cup was unveiled at Chicago’s Wrigley Field over the weekend, there was no escaping mental images of the British Petroleum oil slick wreaking ecological havoc in the Gulf of Mexico. That’s because BP serves as title sponsor of the Cup, a first-year celebration of the six interleague meetings between the Cubs and White Sox.

BP’s ties to the FIFA World Cup, the 2012 London Olympics and the United States Olympic Committee have come under scrutiny of late, but the company hasn’t shown many signs of abandoning its sports sponsorship strategies. In fact, since the spill, which threatened to shut down something called the Mississippi Deep Sea Fishing Rodeo, BP agreed to sponsor the event — slated for July 1-4, clean waters permitting.

The energy giant did lower its profile in the Windy City, including a scaled-down corporate presence and trophy presentation (which fans booed, anyway), but its logo remained a part of all Crosstown Cup signage. Both teams voiced support for their new partner, which they signed to the multiyear sponsorship deal earlier this year. “We’re trying to stand behind our sponsor, but at the same time be respectful of what’s happening off the field,” said Cubs spokesman Kevin Saghy. Added Sox senior vice president of sales and marketing Brooks Boyer, “Just like we have tough seasons, our partners have tough times and we aren’t going to turn our back on our partners.”

Some foresee a silver lining for BP in the three-foot-tall, silver-plated Cup. Jim Biegalski, vice president of The Marketing Arm — a sports, entertainment and event promotions firm with offices in Chicago — told the Chicago Sun-Times, “If BP manages to get everything under control in the Gulf, it could come back a year from now and use the BP Cup as a great platform to help get out the message that they have successfully handled the problem.”

A lifelong Detroit Tigers fan, I was watching live as veteran MLB umpire Jim Joyce briefly stuttered then blew the call on the would-be 27^th out that cost the Tigers’ Armando Galarraga a perfect game yesterday. At that moment, the call and the man who made it epitomized imperfection. The ball was hit on the ground softly between first and second, time stood still and an umpire felt the burden of baseball history weigh down upon him. In that pressure-filled moment, he made a human error.

Rage ensued — from managers, players, fans, and even friends and family. My own dear mother soon after joined a Facebook group called “Galarraga Was Robbed.”

Personal heartbreak aside, what I find intriguing as a sports fan has been the myriad reactions to this single call. Earlier today, MLB commissioner Bud Selig issued a statement saying that, considering this and other recent umpiring blunders, “I will examine our umpiring system, the expanded use of instant replay and all other related features.” The egregiousness of Joyce’s admittedly blown call and its relevance to the record books (Galarraga would have been just the 21^st major league hurler to have thrown a perfect game) certainly make a case for an expanded role of instant replay in baseball, but I wonder if the events that have transpired in the short time since the call support a counter argument.

Soon after the game, a tearful Joyce — who’d been bearing a steady barrage of verbal abuse from coaches, players and fans alike — admitted to missing the call, while offering his sincerest personal apologies to Galarraga. Galarraga, meanwhile, told reporters he knew in his heart of hearts he’d thrown a perfect game, and when asked his feelings toward Joyce, he replied, without irony, “nobody’s perfect.”

Fans’ anger and empathy, Galarraga’s humility, Joyce’s shame — these are the human elements that have turned this into such an interesting story. Had instant replay been used for the call, what might have been the result? A forced rushing of the field after a five-minute review period? A confused din among fans? If we consider the idea that we love sport because it is a reflection of life itself — in which each play in each game represents a new hope and a new struggle — then perhaps we should come to terms with the fact that Joyce simply blew it. Life is imperfect, as are its players.

A mere 17 hours after Joyce’s error, he walked through the tunnel at Detroit’s Comerica Park, his face red and bloated from crying and tears still filling his eyes. He was preparing to work the plate as the Tigers took on the Cleveland Indians. Breaking from custom, Tigers manager Jim Leyland sent Galarraga out to deliver the lineup card. The pitcher and the umpire touched arms. It was awkward. It was an act of grace.

Isn’t there an element of perfection in that, too?