Growing up, I was probably one of the only kids in the country who didn't hate going to the dentist for check-ups. First off, anything to get me out of school was always a plus, but the real reasons for the lack of hesitation were my teeth.

For the first quarter century I've been alive, I never had a cavity. Not one.

So, every time I went to the dentist, it was just for a nice spit-shine (well, not a literal one) and a nice “way-to-go” pat on the back from the dentist.

Sadly, that all ended this winter, when I found out my teeth had more holes in them than the Philadelphia Flyers' goaltending.

Eleven cavities altogether — not to mention the two times in the last six months my fake tooth has broken loose — and I've now been relegated to that all-too-large group of people that finds the dentist scarier than spending a night with Ron Artest.

As I've gotten older, I've learned one very important fact: Some things just aren't what they used to be.

My teeth fall into that category, and while the inside of my head was being drilled (and filled) Tuesday morning in the dentist's chair, I couldn't help but think about all the other things in the world (of sports) that just aren't the same any more.

I still consider myself far too young to ever start a story by saying, “Back in my day ... .” But, since I seem to have the decaying teeth of a soldier from the time of the Civil War, it seems appropriate to start every segment of this column with that very saying.

Back in my day ... NBA teams used to win playoff games, you know, as a team. Well, that's not entirely true; I guess the better way to put it is that teams used to have to win by execution and experience. Now, it's just which team has the better athletes. It's not that it's a bad thing; it's just not good if you root for the Lakers, Spurs or Celtics.

Back in my day ... we used to be able to see countless NHL games — including the playoffs — on ESPN's family of networks. There also used to be a show called “NHL 2 Night” every single night on ESPN that gave great coverage of the games we didn't get to see live. Now? You have to watch the Canucks close out the Predators in the time slot between a rodeo and a cycling race on Versus. In the meantime, there have been less SportsCenter segments on hockey in the last year than there have been about Brett Favre sexting.

Back in my day ... there was no such thing as sexting, or texting, or Twitter. (And people used to like Favre, or at the very least, think of him as a football player.) In the Good Ol' Days, athletes had to work a lot harder to make public mockeries of themselves. Now, they take care of that in 140 characters or less.

Back in my day ... football players used to actually play football. Remember when the NFL used to have games? We'd huddle around the TV on Sundays, watching some of the best athletes in the world play one of the greatest sports there is. It was amazing — and it's amazing that it was only a few months ago that actually happened. Doesn't it just feel longer? Maybe it's that every time we hear the word “lockout” or see Roger Goodell give his patented purse-lipped assessment of the state of negotiations, it takes days off our lives. At this rate, by the time the next season actually starts, we'll all look as old as Greg Oden.

(Here comes the lightning round)

Back in my day ... Tiger Woods used to win golf tournaments.

Back in my day ... Shaquille O'Neal weighed less than 400 pounds.

Back in my day ... we actually trusted that what we were watching was natural. Or maybe ...

Back in my day ... Juiced-up athletes were cool. At least, Bud Selig thought they were cool enough to be the (unnaturally large) faces of MLB. Oh, and ...

Back in my day ... Sammy Sosa could speak English. Maybe the PEDs took away his memory, but once he started getting questioned about them, he suddenly needed an interpreter.

Back in my day ... Red Sox fans were obnoxious losers (as in losing games). Now, they're just obnoxious.

Back in my day ... I could watch a Cubs' loss without grinding my teeth so hard I passed out.

Wait, maybe that's how my mouth got like this.

Sports editor Bryce Evans still can't feel two-thirds of his face. If this column didn't make sense, it's because his brain is numb, too.