Crisis Averted

I haven’t heard a peep out of a Notre Dame fan since Monday night’s prison rape. Someone failed to tell the Fighting Irish-who showed up with pocket knives-that this was a gun fight. They could not even defend themselves, just lying on their backs with all paws in the air, exposing their genitals and looking away from their attackers. They weren’t making many mistakes and were not turning the ball over. The lone interception wasn’t a bad throw-it was just superior defense and incredible athleticism. If it had been turnovers and penalties they could have said “We made too many mistakes today”. That was certainly not the case. Notre Dame was outclassed at each and every position on the field, in many cases outclassed by a very wide margin. If Notre Dame had been a derby horse, someone would have walked out onto the field in the 2nd quarter and shot it in the head. There was no reason for either them, or their fans, to endure the end of the first and the entire second half. That was just cruel. Notre Dame could have brought a 12th player onto the field for the entire game and it would have been inconsequential.

And how badly do all the organizations who made Manti Te’o their national player of the year wish they could have a mulligan on that one? It appeared that Te’o did not realize he was playing in a football game on Monday night. He seemed to think that he was scheduled to act in a Shakespeare in the Park production of Hamlet, and not the BCS National Title game. His draft stock is falling faster than Groupon. He looked like he was massively stoned and wearing roller skates. To save face and a few million dollars he should have pulled the Rodney Dangerfield from Caddyshack and started shaking his arm in the 1st quarter and claimed it was broken. He was the guy in your platoon who dominated basic training, finishing first in every physical fitness test and talking about how many zips he was going kill. Then the first time Charlie attacked he stumbled around with a wide, far-away stare and the unmistakable stench of feces in his trousers. If the goal was to be in the wrong place as many times as possible, and when you were in the right place to completely miss the tackle, he would have been the MVP of that game without a doubt. He seems like a great guy and I wish him the best, but if possible he needs to take this to court and have it officially ruled that it wasn’t actually him on the field Monday night.

It is a sub-optimal outcome that yet another SEC national title winner was declared. SEC fans are obnoxious as all fucking hell and I wish them the worst. I’ve never met a group of people who root for a conference just as much as their own team. It is odd to say the least. I’ve heard people who are Tennessee fans, which is an absolute train wreck of a program the past five years, screaming about the SEC. Shut the fuck up already, your team is shit. The bottom line is that if you stay off the television and online chatrooms, you can more or less avoid them altogether. Most don’t have enough money to leave the southeast. Golden Domers on the other hand are everyfuckingwhere, and their alumni are for the most part upwardly mobile. You cannot hide from their arrogance. Monday night is a lesson that none of them can claim to have not learned. As much as it pains me to say this, anyone watching that BCS National Title cannot with a straight face say that their (insert name of team you root for here) would have suffered a better fate. It was perfection on a college football field, plain and simple. Do I like Alabama? No. Do I think that Saban is a slimy fucking snake? Yes. Do I think Saban has built Alabama into a unarguable juggernaut that destroys nearly everything in its path? Absolutely. It is what it is. But at the end of this particular day his tidal wave made a direct hit on South Bend and obliterated not only the lives but the hopes of all who call it home. And for that a major national crisis of assholery was averted. I haven’t heard one single word from any Notre Dame fan, not even an excuse. They simply aren’t talking-about anything. The most obnoxious fan in my office didn’t even come to work Tuesday. This is as it should be.

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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2 Responses to Crisis Averted

  1. NP says:

    Never forget.

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