or, A Celebration of Never Being Wrong About Anything
In light of the big daily headlines "Redskins" thread about all things offensive, inalienable rights, and political correctness, I found myself drawn from my thread-posting hibernation, reflecting on just what offends me about football these days. I have no need to reflect on what I will do about it, because that bit’s easy to answer: Nothing. I’ll just deal with it, and say what I think – and occasionally I might have even been asked to.
You didn’t ask per-se, but you did click the link, which is basically the internet equivalent, so read on in company of the clearest warning: you asked for it.
In no particular order, some football things that offend me:
You were kind of cool as a Colt, the way you’d do all that smoke and mirror crap at the line, and sling lasers and lob bombs at your buddy Murdering Marvin. But now you’re a smug, ring-chasing, offensive-pass-interference-exploiting gobbler of Donkey dick paychecks. Fuck you.
Best day ever. Fuck you.
You fiddling Nero, you salt-and-pepper-topped fraud. You are the rubber nipples to the Batman franchise of the Kansas City defense that Derrick built. You ruined something I loved.
24 Hour News Networks
It’s not that there isn’t enough news to fill 24 hours – there is! The world doesn’t stop rotating at 8pm Eastern Time – it’s that you’ve become so bloated and lazy at collecting the easy revenue from nothing more than appealing to the lowest-denominator idiots whose biases you confirm that you’re like the junkies who are so addicted to heroin they’d literally die if they stopped getting their fix. I usually just ignore people like you and your denizens, but you're creating a cultural millstone that enables the same kind of tripe to trickle into conversations about sports and sports coverage. Skip Bayless would not exist in his current capacity without you.
Anyone that says I should like a player because he’s a nice person, good father, religious, etc
No. I like watching him play because he can run fast and catch things and throw things and be really tough. I’m glad he’s a nice person, but that’s not why he’s on my tv and being presented to me as a role model. I have my dad and my grandmother, and plenty of other worthy people who I actually get to have a relationship with to be my role models, regardless of their 40 times. If you want to like Player X because he does mission work in Haiti, that’s great, but he keeps fumbling at the goal line so I think he’s a dick.
Anyone that says I should dislike a player because he’s a bad person
Ray Lewis is one of my favorite football players of all time. Because of the way he played football. Bill Romanowski is one of my least favorite players of all time. Because of the way he played football. Off the field, they’re both probably scum. Michael Vick in his role of football player should be vilified by fans for his turnovers and his (reportedly) lazy work ethic. Michael Vick in his role of citizen did a heinous thing to dogs, paid his debt to society, and is still a fairly good football player and so on those grounds has a right to ply his craft. If Michael Vick were a plumber, no one would give a shit. None of these guys are in the NFL because they're nice, so it seems strange to me to revere or vilify them based on their niceness. Which leads me to:
Some people ARE famous for their goodness or badness, and on those grounds they should be judged. But if people are famous because they're pretty, or athletic, or can really get into character, then that's as far as I care about them or am interested in what they do. Odds are I will never know them, so why waste energy pretending to know them or even wanting to?
You’re a disingenuous shill for the worst elements of the NFL’s economic machine. You emphasize the "cost" in "human cost" to the point that the "human" side of things has been pushed to the teetering margins of the discussion. Just be honest about your priorities and stop pretending you care. We can all tell.
People who equate modern-day players to slaves
Slaves don’t get university educations, don't get endorsements, don't get paid for autographs, don’t get to retire, and definitely don’t get pensions. Acquire perspective.
NFL Owners (and the NCAA while I’m at it)
You are NOT the product, you are the marketing division. The players are the product we pay to see; you are a collection of Don King doorknobs. The game would exist (and does exist) outside you. You protect nothing other than your own financial interests, sometimes at the expense of the players (your product). We can all tell.
Instant replay rules
Dear Bay Area Social Workers,
Please read the following message to your clients:
You dress like a collection of obese post-apocalyptic Star Wars kids. You are cosplayers who try to fight other people who are not cosplayers, or who perhaps might cosplay in different colors. And you are whiners. The refs are NOT conspiring against your team (despite the tuck rule); the talent deficit between your roster and your opponent’s conspires against your team. Try to draft someone in the first round who can make it past their rookie contract.
Dear Broncos fans,
Please take a few moments to stop masturbating over season previews, wipe off your screen and pay attention. You are the NFL’s version of Israeli settlers in the West Bank: You’re obnoxious, sanctimonious, and full of shit and double-standards. No one likes you outside your own in-group, and you’ve no one to blame for it but yourselves. Rooting for the better team does not make you the better person.
OK, now keep talking about winning the offseason. I'm going to keep laughing at the Super Bowl.
P.S. And don't give me that weak-assed "at least we were there" garbage. I'm GLAD you were there. I'm GLAD you got that far and lost that way, and as I don't expect my Chiefs to get there this year, I HOPE it happens again. Or better yet, if you'll allow for someone else's prematurely wet post-season dream for a second, I hope you shit the bed against US in the AFC title game -- that would be truly perfect. Know this: no matter what happens, I blow my schadenfreude all over your blotched, teary cheeks. I relish the wails of your women and children, indistinguishable from your own.
That is all for now.