FIFTY THOUSAND MOONS
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Posted by el duque at 8:10 AM
Next up: the Grammys, Oscars, Emmys and the Scranton-Wilkes Barre level awards - People's Choice, Lincoln Center, Daytime Emmys, etc. - chances for the lesser stars to preen their plumage and mate, evolving our hairless ape-species to a higher, more 90210 level. By the year 2100, because of award shows, our Hollywood stars will be genetically enhanced to include 24-pack abs, breasts like windsocks and heads the size of weather balloons.
But our pro jocks - they will be grunting, tree-necked, 500-pound Morlocks of the underworld. And they will be mercifully put to death at age 30. Because Award Season in Hollywood comes during Open Season for sports icons. Look what happened just last week:
1. Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens get Rizzutoed by the Hall of Fame selection committee. (Bill Mazeroski is in the Hall? Really?)
2. Lance Armstrong slobbers his Oprah moment after single-handedly killing the sport of cycling. (Seriously, will anybody follow the U.S. Postal cycling team ever again?)
3. Manti Te'o is exposed as, at best, a doofuss - and, at worst, a cynical lying bastard who'd say anything to win a Heisman. (With the entire University of Notre Dame as his personal publicist.)
4. Terry Francona's new book discusses how the Redsocks owners' complained that the team needed more sex symbols. (The ratings weren't high enough.)
Listen: The NFL and the NBA are cesspools of bullshit. Hockey is dead, golf died with Tiger, and now this...
Curt Schilling, the former Ayn Rand-professing U.S. Senate hopeful from Massachusetts, plans to sell his "bloody sock" at an auction, to pay off his $100 million debt to the taxpayers of Rhode Island. Everybody knows the legend of how Schilling pitched Boston to the championship, ending "the Curse of the Bambino" while bleeding openly from a wound.
You have to wonder: Was there ever a heartwarming story about sports that wasn't amplified 500 times by a gullible, cynical, ratings-obsessed media?
It's interesting that Deadspin broke the Te'o story. Deadspin is the junkyard dog of sports media. But we've seen what happens: Give it 20 years and a place in the press box, and history says it will be another ESPN - barely able to see the truth while submerged in its own bullshit.
Which has me wondering this morning:
Should I ever believe ANY heartstrings story about a jock, when reported by a media that makes its bread and butter from the sport? Certainly, if Brent Musberger is telling it, the answer is no. But when the whole pretense of the media is to glom onto athletes' success, why believe anything dished out between pitches or during the Beyonce-Pepsi half-time show?
Sports is turning into the Golden Globes (which should better be called The Golden Calves.)
Note to buyers: Check that bloody sock before writing the check. Remember those announcers who joked that it had paint? And remember what happened to the original sock? (Note: It got thrown away. The one Schilling intends to sell is a second sock he wore in a later game.)
Oh, well. Good luck in your fantasy Oscar league. I hear Whazzizname will win this year.