As I sit on my couch watching the Home Run Derby and cursing the staining powers of Cheetos, I am shocked by three things.
1) Erin Andrews – OK, so I’m not her biggest fan. No, I’m not jealous that she is (relatively) attractive, blonde, reporting for ESPN and lusted after by millions of frat boy NCAA fans and pot-bellied armchair GMs alike. Well maybe a little. Whatever.
Not only was I disappointed with her choice of attire (THAT shirt with THAT skirt???), but she needed a written script to MC the trophy ceremony at the end of the Derby. If you’re working for the “World Wide Leader,” you should probably know who the bigwigs in MLB are.
Seriously, in a battle of the wits between Jennifer Hedger and Erin Andrews, it would be a bigger beat down than Pacman Jones vs. a stripper.
2) ESPN – sure Josh Hamilton was absolutely ridiculous through the first two rounds of the derby then choked like the Ottawa Senators in the finals, but the very first thing said by the panel after the great CANADIAN Justin Morneau wins is “Nobody will remember who won this, because the story is all about Josh Hamilton.”
Can’t ESPN give Canada one ounce of respect? He’s the first Canadian to win the derby and is immediately overshadowed by a former junkie who couldn’t close the deal in the final round. Even the main page at ESPN.com has a picture and story about the guy that came in second. Well I once heard a saying from the Bible… or maybe it was a song by Creed: “Losers always whine about their best. Winners go home and f*** the prom queen.” You enjoy yourself, Justin.
As for ESPN? More like “World Wide Leader in Sports When America Dominates The Competition And Fails To Recognize The Achievements Of Other Counties”.
Chris Berman, “leather” may be with you, but I most certainly am not.
3) Black Monday – On Monday there were no professional sports games in North America. None. I feel oddly empty. The newspaper will be full of re-hashed Eklund rumours, sports news stations will be forced to continue discussing the A-Rod/Madonna fiasco (my fantasy?), and Blake will probably accidentally post a graphic love letter meant for Paul Pierce’s eyes only.
Thank god we only have to go through a day like this once a year. But what if this was every day? What if sports just stopped? Where would we find an outlet for our athletic prowess, passionate loyalty and belligerent beer drinking?
During the lockout year I developed a crippling addiction to CSI, but at least I still had the NBA and NFL to fall back on. But if professional sports were to disappear for more than one day, what would happen?
Imagine meeting up at your buddy’s house to down a case of Molson while watching the Oscars instead of the Superbowl.
Imagine decorating your room with stuff from Pier One instead of merchandise from every AL team.
Imagine paying a scalper five times the face value to see The Phantom of the Opera instead of a Leafs/Habs playoff match.
Imagine rocking a Von Dutch hat instead of your vintage Lakers lid.
Imagine seeing Emmitt Smith doing the cha-cha instead of rushing 50 yards for a TD.
And worst of all, imagine the Stanley Cup being used to potty train Kris Draper’s daughter instead of being the centerpiece of every hockey player’s dreams and every Leaf fan’s therapy sessions.
All of this is too much to handle. Let us quietly thank the Sporting Gods for the glorious gift of professional sports, and take this day without them to truly appreciate what they mean to us.
Because, honestly, would life have any meaning without the Rally Monkey?
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