By Chris Kivlahan
Staff Writer
I’m Chris, and I don’t care for most things. This may come off as pessimistic, but think about it for a moment. Between global warming, corrupt politicians and hangnails, there’s a lot in this world to hate. And I, in an unprecedented (well kind of precedented) show of bitter cynicism, am bringing this rage to the people.
*It’ll actually be as many as I feel like. Get over it.
Recently, I discovered the wonderful world of March Madness. Specifically, the joys of watching die-hard Basketball Fans’ heads explode when I tell them I picked Norfolk over Missouri (Called it!), and that Harvard is going all the way this year (Crimson 4 Lyfe!). In general, though, I still view sports as men in skin-tight spandex chasing after a ball while other spandex men try to grab their majestic shiny buttocks.
Now, that’s not to say that I don’t occasionally enjoy watching the home team vanquish the opposing fellows. As a matter of fact, I’ve recently become quite the Jets fan. My reasoning is that if Tebow actually wins the Superbowl, he’ll sacrifice a goat in the glorious name of Jesus, and that gives all his fans a guilt-free license to sin (I’ve been itching to field test that homemade flamethrower I’ve been working on).
However, the homoerotic semi-rape is not the main bone I have to pick with sports (Cue teenage boys laughing (BONE to pick! Get it!)). No, I object to how every singly drunken fan becomes smarter than a professional coach every Sunday afternoon.
How telling a hillbilly that Baseball isn’t a sport (It’s NOT!) is worse than calling his sister/cousin (They’re the same person, because he’s a hillbilly! That was the joke, for those who didn’t pick up on it) a whore.
How “THE BEARS ARE GOING ALL THE WAY THIS YEAR! GO BEARS WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” is always followed by the noise of a sad, lonely man throwing up a stomach full of vodka and pork rinds. If you’ve never witnessed this natural phenomenon, it sounds like an M80 going off buried in the middle of a sandbox soaked in urine, but with more garbled cursing.
That brings me to another point- Baseball isn’t a sport. At any given moment, a maximum of two people are moving, and to be a star you need to be able to hit a ball and run in a straight line. It’s essentially Major League Passing a Sobriety test. If baseball is a sport, then watching Steven Seagal movies is a sport (That joke is funny. Look it up! I can wait).
Alright, the one of you with half a brain may have realized by now that I do play tennis. However, much like a hipster prostitute, I was hitting those balls before it was cool.
Some of you may be wondering why I’m saying all of these things with total impunity, knowing full well that every ‘roid-monkey with a baseball bat will be able to see it. However, that’s all they’ll be able to do. Any athlete with enough pride to be offended by this article is either too stupid or too drunk to read it.
I have only the utmost respect for athletes, if by respect you mean contempt. If your only skill is running fast or hitting a ball with a club, you belong in a zoo. If all you can do is throw far, you deserve every concussion you get. So, if your only claim to fame is being a star quarterback, practice male stripping now. You’ll thank me.
P.S. On second thought, don’t thank me. I don’t wanna catch stupid. Or syphilis.