It didn't even seem like Thanksgiving this year, what with the girlie football being offered by the NFL - America's new powder puff sport - all because a few wives claim their men can't walk the dog without ending up wandering a bus station in a brain-damaged daze. Well... boo-hoo-hoo, Mrs. Theisman!
Used to be, you could get a bead on that wide receiver as he was extending himself to catch the ball and - BINGO - turn him into a writhing grease smear on the carpet! Oh, yeah! He'd be lucky to remember his name by Tuesday. The fans loved it! Coach loved it! Everybody did! Then Obama's patty-cake machine took over. Oh, mercy me, a few guys can't operate a toaster anymore, so let's change the rules? If we don't do something, we'll soon be watching the National Touch Football League.
Dammit, I stopped watching golf after they outlawed the blocking of your opponent's drive. They eliminated the entire defensive game!
And now Mrs. Selig - the Queen Mother herself - wants MLB to stand for More Ladies in Baseball. They're eliminating the skull shattering collisions at home plate, like the lick Ol' Charlie Hustle put on Ray Fosse in the 1970 All-Star Game - the type that fans pay good money to see. And you know why? Because San Francisco poster boy Buster Posey - the most aptly named athlete since Joe Don Looney - hurt his binky on a play at home.
Nobody in Princess Selig's book club said a word in 2008 when our Francisco boy - Francisco Cervelli went to an emergency room with his Yankee uniform on, after taking a ridiculously unnecessary shot from a career minor leaguer in an exhibition game against the Tampa Rays. Cervelli broke his wrist, missed practically the season, and he's been jinxed ever since. (By the way, he held onto the ball, to record the out.) Joe Girardi protested. But Mad Dog Joe Maddon and the dwarfs that run the game just looked away. Only Shelley Duncan - forever a great Yankee, in my book! - gave an appropriate response, later attempting to circumcise a Rays SS with his cleats. Ahh, those were the days.
Posts
2 comments:
I agree with the duke, what a bunch of pansies! I mean hey I get a lot of crap for that little bump in 1970 but I see that did not inhibit the blossoming of that Fosse guy to his true calling, teaching buttercups to dance.
Major League Base-ball-less.
If Dick Cheney was the commish, not only would collisions be accepted, they'd be encouraged, and players who shied away from one would be tortured at a black site.
Post a Comment