Piling On The NFL

I enjoy watching sporting events and I believe that live contests are the pinnacle of television, the justification for a nasty cable bill. Live sporting events provide drama that movies and such can never approximate. People who miss out on these things usually have no sense of drama, no joie de vivre.

I cannot put into words the joy I experienced watching last year's Super Bowl. Ditto, this year's Indianapolis 500. The Cubs' World Series was also great but it conflicted with my work schedule and I only got to see snippets. Like a lot of people, I enjoy these things but I can also do without them.

I lived without a television for over a decade. I didn't miss it but I can tell you that visitors often seemed uncomfortable when our common friend did not sit with us. I found my way back to the fold but these days I usually watch shows on my schedule. But if the TV is on and a game is on, I sometimes check a score and stay much longer than I had intended.

So I guess you could say I have a nuanced view of the NFL. Appreciation for the product but not a product I would deem essential. Leftists ruin everything they touch. Everything. Shakespeare. Football. Late night comedy. The weather. Remember when some of us watched meteorologists for their entertainment value? Even the weather got politicized.

The Left is a collection of salmonella-soaked houseflies darting from burger to frankfurter to potato salad, spreading their consciousness-raising enlightenment with each and every landing. What we might experience as fecal accidents, projectile vomiting and an enduring aversion to our favorite foods, the Left sees as an exercise in social justice. They just want to help.

There are so many angles to the NFL jumping the shark story but for now let us focus on the stupidity of the Left. After Trump's Luther Strange rally where he denounced the National Anthem prima donnas, a prophet pronounced that the NFL was about to walk into another "Trump Trap." Sure enough, the prophet was on target. I wish I had bookmarked what I had read so I could give the Oracle a hat tip but I can't find that reference now.

Which brings us to the Left. I can remember when they were not so blatantly stupid. Maybe we just overestimated their talents because they had all the cushy jobs. Maybe it was all polish and more polish all along. Maybe.

On the other hand, the Lefties of yesteryear could at least select poster children that tugged at your heartstrings. Privileged millionaire linemen, public trough-draining team owners, and never-wrong-always-employed sports journalists miss the mark by more than a hair's width.

The bite-the-hand players are the silliest. Is there such a thing as a boomerang post child? A poster antihero? A poster villain?  Has a new idiom been discovered? The snowflakes hiding in the safe space of their locker rooms will forever challenge our masculine ideals.

There is something both laughable and futile about protesting that which cannot be articulated. Understand, these are millionaires--many of whom are college graduates--with access to publicists, social media consultants, agents, multiple social media outlets, as well as still-powerful lackey news media at their beck and call. Yet, no 95 theses or articles of confederation or student council demands are ever advanced. Give Colin Kaepernick some credit. When he donned "pig socks" or a Fidel image, he at least offered a clue as to what his position might have been.

There is something both laughable and self-defeating about the notion that these pampered prissies can only express their contempt during the playing of The National Anthem. And who exactly is the target of your ongoing hostility? Do you even know? Do you even care?

There is something both laughable and tiresome with protests that offer no resolution. Nothing like "If y'all pardon Hollywood's favorite cop-killer, we will stop biting the many, many hands that feed us." Nope. No resolution is proposed because no problem has been articulated. It is only "spit in their faces", the elevated middle finger, now and forever. The spirit of social vandalism rears its ugly head.

Yes, there is some schadenfreude on my part but there is also sadness. I miss you, Tom Brady. But I love seeing the most overpaid buffoon in history, Roger Goodell, do his Dr. Kevorkian imitation. I don't mind seeing the idiot owners who pay Goodell $44,000,000/year get duly rewarded for their gross stupidity. Deflategate should have been a clue, guys. But it's your ball and if you want to take it home, we won't stand in your way.

Understand, I still follow the NFL. But I no longer care who won the game between the Washington Ingrates and the Seattle Divas. The scores I track are attendance figures, TV ratings, memorabilia sales, as well as sponsor abandonment and public NFL jersey conflagrations. It's a whole new ball game, folks!