Okay folks, consider this your warning. We’re in the slow part of the sports calendar, and yet, every time I turn on the television or jump online, I see something that pisses me off. Because I’m contractually obligated to write a sports column every other week, I will take this opportunity to vent my frustrations at those people responsible for the recent rise in my blood pressure.
Hey Don Imus, blow me. In a desperate attempt to remain relevant, you opened your old, out-of-touch, bigoted mouth once again, and in the process managed to make people actually feel sympathy for Dallas Cowboys cornerback/former professional wrestler Pacman Jones. I don’t have many steadfast rules to live by in my life, but feeling sympathy for a guy who has been arrested six times since his NFL career began in 2005 is out of the question. At least the “nappy headed ho’s” were a likeable bunch.
Hey Jevon Walker, blow me. Thanks for giving my wife one more reason to prevent me from going to Las Vegas with my friends, you dickhead.
Hey NBA Finals, blow me. Sure, at first glance an NBA Finals match-up of the historic Los Angeles Lakers-Boston Celtics rivalry is must-see TV, but here’s what you really did to us –
You forced us into an anti-Sophie’s Choice situation, in which casual sports fans had to choose between rooting for Kobe Bryant (a.k.a. – the worst teammate in modern sports history) or insufferable New Englanders who have easily surpassed New York fans as the biggest douchebags in sports.
I sometimes catch myself pining for the good old days when all you had to say is “Where’s Bill Buckner these days?” and it would end any trash talking from a chowderhead. Now, these fans actually walk around with their collective chests puffed out like they actually had anything to do with winning a championship.
Like Shaq, I’m tempted to ask Bryant “Hey Kobe, how’s my ass taste?” after he failed to win an NBA title with what I was told was the deepest team in the league, but then I remember the last time a white person asked that same question charges had to be filed in Colorado, so I pass. And speaking of O’Neal, does this free-style rap signify the return of Shaq Diesel? Or was it called Shaq Fu? Either way, one can only hope he and the Fu-Schnickens can reunite for a follow-up to “What’s Up Doc? (Can We Rock?)”
Hey Tampa Bay Lightning, blow me. Did you seriously just hire ESPN analyst Barry Melrose to coach your team? Was Al Michaels or Chris Berman unavailable for the job? I know you’re a joke of a franchise, but hiring a guy who, mullet aside, hasn’t been relevant in a decade is probably a bad idea. People are actually starting to watch hockey again, so why would you go and do this head-scratcher of a move? Did he say nice things about your players during the three minutes ESPN actually covered hockey last season?
Hey Jim Bowden, blow me. The nation’s capital went more than 30 years without a baseball team. Needless to say, people in D.C. are used to life without baseball. So as a bit of advice, once the league moves a franchise there and the city builds you a $600 million ballpark, it’s probably a good idea to have a team worth giving a shit about. The Nationals are currently the second worst team in the league and have little reason for optimism over the next few seasons. Did someone fail to tell you two other Washington-based baseball teams packed up and left? Get your shit together and find a player or two worth watching.
Hey Tiger Woods … okay, we’re still cool. But I am kind of bummed that I was able to score tickets to the entire AT&T National Tournament at Congressional (a.k.a. – Tigers’ tournament), and you possibly won’t be in attendance. Do me and all the service members a favor and show up for at least one of the days. You’re the modern day Michael Jordan, and even if we can’t see you play, people still want to bask in your glory.
Hey Ned Bitters, blow me. Okay, no real reason for that. But maybe if you actually tried to earn a paycheck while at your place of employment (instead of, say, fighting a hangover) maybe there wouldn’t be so many assholes out in the real world pissing me off these days.
Brian Murphy is an award-winning sportswriter, and still doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. Contact him at firstname.lastname@example.org.