Wednesday, July 20, 2011

So, Just What The Fuck Was That?

Stolen from "Jacob" and my sports blog, In Much Less Detail.

It's about time for NFL training camps to start, we football fans are supposed to be getting geared up for another season of what has become America's passion...and we're waiting for Sal Palantonio and Adam Schefter to tell us what their sources are telling them about the labor negotiations. To say this whole thing sucks would be nowhere near accurate. This is abominable. The thought of NFL owners opting out of a labor deal for no other reason than to suck more money their way should piss of every real football fan. It leaves me wondering just what the hell we watched this summer, because I still don't know.

The players side appears to have caved in to almost every demand, if the "sources" are to be believed. So why hold out at all? Why de-certify the union if DeMaurice Smith was going to drop to his knees and open his mouth in the end anyway? Why string all of this crap out so long and make fans even think that there was the slightest chance that the players were going to stand their ground? I'm not any kind of labor expert, so I ask this in all sincerity: Is this how negotiations usually go? One side waits until the last second and just submits like a bad MMA fighter? We know it's coming up on the time where players were going to start risking missing game checks. We heard for a couple of years how the players and the union officials had been communicating and gearing up for this, and they won't be caught off guard and they will be financially prepared for the long haul and blah blah blah...but we're not talking about intelligent people for the most part. We're talking about NFL athletes. The chances that they were going to stay unified for the long haul were slim and none. So why even fucking pretend?

I don't know what we witnessed this offseason, but I will tell you what's been most entertaining: The players loading up and unleashing with all their might and fury upon the all-powerful commish, Roger Goodell. The three words Roger Goodell unfair results in a mere 448,000 Google results. Baltimore WR Derrick Mason called Goodell "a joke" in a radio interview, then to make sure he wasn't misunderstood, appeared on TV wearing a T-shirt that said "A JOKE." Seattle OL Chester Pitts called the commish "a fraud." Steelers LB James Harrison let loose in a Men's Journal interview, calling Goodell "faggot," "devil," "crook," wouldn't piss on him if he were on fire, etc. Would any of this be happening if the players weren't locked out? Of course not, because the dictator Goodell would fine them to kingdom come and maybe suspend them for saying something critical. This is exactly why the players are so critical of Goodell. The level of respect for Goodell is so low that I can't recall any players coming out in his defense on the other side. As much as some NBA players don't like the arrogant commish David Stern, and as much as some MLB players can't stand Bud Selig, I don't imagine venom on this level ever coming their way. And the NBA lockout has begun, so said venom should be flying toward Stern right now. But because he's not a complete penis when it comes to disciplining players, the pure hate isn't there. I've quite enjoyed that part of this otherwise execrable offseason. Hearing Goodell getting it from all directions has been funny and historical, as today's zillions of media outlets allow players to voice their opinions like never before. And it allowed dumb motherfuckers to show their asses and shine a bright light on their massive mental retardation. The leader of dumb was, of course, Colin Cowherd, who said on his radio show something to the effect of black NFL players have such hatred toward Goodell because he's the only father figure most of them ever had. There's video of the exact diatribe. I refuse to watch it and quote him directly because, well, I don't need to watch a KKK video either to know that what's being said is a product of willful ignorance. I do have some colorful names to call Cowherd in response, though. You'll have to find James Harrison and ask him what they are.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

In Good Times And Bad

Real quick update on things here at Casa de Planet Dre. A couple of weeks back, I was chilling on my off day from work, listening to music and surfing the net and relaxing worry-free. Then the fiancee texted that she just got laid off. The sound I heard was the proverbial needle scratching across the record and ending the party, and if you're so young that you don't know what that sounds like, then I pity you. So it's been a bit depressing lately as compared to the euphoria of starting our lives together. Real life has hit hard, as she searches for work in a crappy job market while we try not to think too hard about the wedding we have to produce in three months. And I've already dealt with anger that I may have felt upon realizing that I moved my life down here to Memphis because she really loved her job, only to have her lose said job within two months of my arrival. I will not hold that over her head, although it would be easy to do so. But this is what becoming a team is all about. We talked real tough about becoming a unit and being there for each other no matter what. Now we have to actually work at it. She has held up a brave front thus far, with the heartbreaking exception of the day she came home after sending me that text. I could tell she had been crying because her eyes were red and puffy and she was toting a box of Kleenex, and when I grabbed her and hugged her, she softly sobbed into my chest. That was hard. But she's been Ms. Busybody since, cooking and refining the resume and signing up for a baking class. She's interviewing with a temp agency next week. Her uncle was a godsend, agreeing to pay her mortgage while she gets back on her feet. She expressed doubt if we were going to get through this rough patch financially, but I think we're going to be fine if we figure out ways to trim down the wedding budget even slimmer than it is now. Ghetto, here we come. Oh, and a bit of joyous news--"Jacob" and "Alice" didn't waste any time. Despite both being ill during their San Francisco honeymoon, Alice is now preggers. Perhaps they didn't conceive until they got back from SF, but the way they were talking about it during that week before the wedding, I wouldn't be surprised if they made each other feel better in between trips to the free clinic out in the Bay Area. No matter, I'm thrilled for the both of them. I told them that she would be four months along when they came down for my wedding, and I was dead on. If only my gambling skills were that sharp.