i tuned into the super-bowl for a majority of the fourth quarter, feeling some sort of obligation to at least know the outcome. it always seems the days after these types of things the only type of common courtesy conversation that takes place out in the wild revolves around this over glorified sporting event. to appear normal one must be able to accurately bullshit their way through a modicum of banter regarding the outcome, or maybe just some spectacular highlights.
the wonderful part about sports is you don't need to watch an entire game to understand what took place. it's all a matter of simple observation in the final quarter, reading people and their actions. i don't care about the players, or the score, they mean absolutely nothing. you get the true story of the game from watching the faces of the fans. the zealots ridiculous enough to dole out a small fortune for tickets, camouflaged in absurd colors and attire, blaring their lungs as the cameramen swoop past their seats. these people physically feel the loss of their team, a sport induced depression settles into their bones and from that grows anger and rivalry for other teams. it's disturbing, in a truly fascinating way.
but america clings to the wrong sports. we worship false gods, paying them millions of dollars for doing something they supposedly enjoy. it's true for all of the big major sports in this country; football, basketball, baseball. their seems little room left in these sports for true love of the game. like most things it's shifted towards greed, and now it's for love of the money one gets for playing the sport they maybe loved as a child.
how cynical is this? the current generation of children, will they even care about the sports? we all grew up saying we want to be sports-stars, rock-stars, movie-stars. maybe you never said it aloud, but you thought it, even if just for a second. did that desire stem from the wealth you'd ultimately acquire? no, i don't think so. it was the allure of being known, that idea of a perfect life, that sadistic american dream. but kids now? after pressing through the marketing and advertising, maybe they'll see a game being played on the field. or maybe they'll see some men in uniforms, doing their job so they can collect a massive fucking paycheck.
i find myself at cvs around 1:00 in the morning and one of the homeless guys that stands against the side of the building on occasion says, "what about those cardinals?"
"tiny red birds shouldn't play with metal men," i tell him.
"i think it's sad," he takes a swill from his brown bag, "sad, no lie."
"but it's no fun to tell the truth."
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