Just Fine Everyone: Mandating Fines for the Sporting World at Large

Hey guys. Welcome to the article! Come on in and find a seat. Appreciate you joining us.

Also, I'm gonna need like $10. Right now.

Nothing personal, of course. It's just that you're late. The rest of us have been here for hours, and $10 is the price of tardiness in the sporting climate we now live in.

Because as Frank Beamer and the fellowship of monks overseeing Virginia Tech's football program recently proved, you can pretty much fine anyone for anything if you type the rules in Helvetica:

While Virginia Tech dissolved this system of breakfast fines and dorm room monitoring last week in response to strong, "Hey you forgot they're not your employees again" backlash, the damage was done. Once you've crossed the omelet fine Rubicon, there's no going back.

With this in mind, I've decided to develop my own system of sports fines and offenses.

My jurisdiction is industry wide and beyond—teams, coaches, sponsors, owners, media, fans—because I'm tired of seeing athletes being the overwhelming majority of sports fine victims. And because I want everyone's money. That's important, too.

So the following are sports things that are now banned. I think you'll find I'm a stern but fair Commissioner of Everything:

Human Sacrifice

@DrCarson73

Violation: Attempting to sacrifice an employee to the front office gods in the hope of saving your village.

Usual Suspects: Uncontacted tribes of South America; unconscionable tribe of northern Virginia.

It's not a popular stance, but I don't think guys in middle management should try to murder a subordinate for missing his quarterly numbers.

It doesn't promote a great office atmosphere, and moreover, it's just rude.

Fine: Six hours of community service as Dan Snyder's "grease guy." (You mop up his face sweat. There is a lot.)

Canned Media Responses

@DrCarson73

Violation: Blocking out the noise, having a short memory and just trying to help the team win.

Usual Suspects: People who are paid millions to tell other people how to play a game; Hallmark cards.

Always optimistic and eternally taking it one game at a time, canned media responses are the prefabbed, 5,000-percent-from-concentrate sports cliches coaches and athletes spout to the media in the hope that one day no one will ever ask them anything ever again.

These meaningless answers typically come when a player gets into an off-the-field issue and his coach is "only focused on the guys who are here right now."

As you'll note, this is not a real response. It might not even be information.

But that's what canned media responses are meant to be: nothing.

They are not information—they are vague fortune cookies that tumble from coaches' mouths when someone asks why their Pro Bowl linebacker was busted for math salts over the weekend after driving his G-Wagon through an animal shelter.*

*(Like bath salts but with an exam at the end.)

Fine: Attending a one-on-one sexual education seminar hosted by Bill Belichick that will only end if you get him to say "tallywhacker."

Missing Breakfast

@DrCarson73

Violation: Missing breakfasts.

Usual Suspects: Ron; hungover people.

This one stays. Breakfast is pivotal.

The only caveat I have to Frank Beamer's breakfast rule is that mine is in reference to any breakfast: team breakfasts, family breakfasts, continental breakfasts, kegs and eggs, your own personal breakfast you make every morning.

You miss any of these breakfasts that are happening anywhere, we'll know. We have people.

Fine: Attending a $50 wristband brunch that starts at 8 a.m. and ends at winter solstice.*

*Screwdrivers not part of wristband deal.

Roughing the Hashtag

@DrCarson73

Violation: Wedging a player's number or cutesy garbage into a nonsensical hashtag with the aid of a shoehorn or pneumatic piston.

Usual Suspects: #Brands

Re-Two-Pect! #N3V3F0R63T.

This is banned. Forever.

Fine: $10 million, and the CEO of offending sponsors will be buried neck-deep in sand and read negative reviews of their products without the opportunity for rebuttal.

Cowering From a Home Run Ball

@DrCarson73

Violation: Turtling when one of life's greatest treasures delivers itself to you.

Usual Suspects: Newly retired boyfriends; off-duty baristas.

Here are some things a home run ball is not:

• The disembodied head of Donald Trump
• A great white shark
• Goku (Super Saiyan levels 1, 2, 3 or 4)
• The cops
• Your parents' unspoken disapproval
• A Soviet missile delivering capitalism its comeuppance 
• Going to kill you 

Now, I am not a badass. I am not Jean-Claude Van Damme.

I can't do the splits or punch bears until they convert to Christianity (I'm positive Van Damme can do this). I'm just a blogger with a long track record of telling humanity to heed its ingrained fears and protect itself from the ocean unnecessary danger.

With that being said, some of you to need to stand up and put it on the table and just catch the ball. I'm not talking about foul tips and liners. I mean beautiful home run balls that are given to you from the based god Jose Bautista and other such divine beings.

Do not fear these things. They just want a home.

Fine: Four hours of discussing American immigration policy with your father as Genesis' "No Son of Mine" plays on a low but audible loop.

These are my rules thus far. They're the only ones you're capable of handling for now, but there will be more.

If you have broken one of these rules, check your locker for an envelope. I accept cash, personal checks or whatever prize stickers your grocery store is having you collect right now.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Dan is on Twitter. Fined cash rules everything around him.