Two Pizzas and Six Football Games Later . .

Hell of a good Labor Day Weekend. A new TV and a ton of College Football.

So for those of you who know me (lucky bastards, all) you know that I am a pretty big sport’s fan. That’s right, I qualify as one of the unwashed, unread morons that scream and yell at the TV, throw the remote and then curse the gods for my misery when a group of athletes break my heart yet again. Why do I give my happiness away to people that have no idea who I am?

But that being said, it’s finally football season, baby! Oh man, this is the best time of the year. Hopes are high, the air is crisp, the grass is fragrant. Man, it is a beautiful thing. Since it’s something that’s on my mind, I thought about writing a few sports themed entries. The latest on my teams, what can we expect next week bla bla bla. I have had entries in the past about how the X Games suck, how Euro basketball players are disgusting and how the Yankees are evil. Pretty obvious observations, really. But I'm going to resist the urge turn this into a sports blog. There's already a ton of those out there. And quite frankly, I’m a little embarrassed by how much I care about sports. There isn’t anything wrong with it. But if I spent the time and money I waste on BYU Football, the Boston Red Sox and the Utah Jazz by reading fine literature and investing in a retirement account, I would be much better for it. But instead, I splurged on a 50 inch plasma HDTV (it is glorious!) for football season only to be pissed off and miserable when BYU fumbled four times in the 3^rd friggin quarter last Saturday.

Another reason why I’m going to avoid any sports specific blog entries is that it is impossible to discuss college football in the state of Utah without rehashing the BYU Utah rivalry. And I get so nauseated by that discussion. So I’ll just pass.

Instead I want to take this time to piss and moan (it’s what I do best) about two aspects of the sports fan’s life that irritate me. Sports Talk Radio and Fantasy Football.

Let’s go with Sports Talk Radio first. See, the problem with being a Jazz fan and a BYU football fan is that no one outside of my happy, little home could give two craps about either team. So any national syndicated show doesn’t touch them and when they do discuss them, they are always uninformed. So that leaves me with the dregs of the local talk radio. And let me tell you, it’s bad. 1280 and 1320 are the two primary sports talk stations in Utah and each of them are terrible. 1280 especially. Just look at this picture of Pat Kinahan of 1320 and tell me this guy isn't a douche. Now listen to him derail the sports conversation with his tone deaf sarcasm on the Manly Morning Show or whatever quasi gay title they have now. After five minutes, you'll be resisting the urge to jab a pen in your ear to make the noise stop.

Why is it that there are no local sports talk personalities that are from Utah? They are all transplants from outside the Wasatch Front. David James (nice enough guy, but overexposed) is from San Diego, Pat Kinahan (bad combination of being sarcastic and deeply unfunny) is from Phoenix, Gordon Monson (pompous, pseudo intellectual ass) is from Philadelphia, Kevin Grahm (squeaky voiced, disagreeable twat) is from Michigan. How do I know all of this? Because they never stop telling us. Over and over. Updating us on how their teams are doing. David James, I don’t give a flying shit about San Diego and I certainly don’t care about how the Padres are doing. In fact I aggressively don’t care. Is it so hard to find a Communications graduate from Utah or BYU that grew up in Salt Lake, a life long follower of the major teams of the area and can reflect local opinion? Instead we get the guys who weren’t good enough to get a job in a bigger market. They’re stuck here and we’re all stuck with them. I try to not to listen, but it’s like picking at a scab. I need to listen to more NPR. The soothing voices will calm me down.

And as for Fantasy Football; look I’m just against it. I know I’m in the minority on this one. Every person who claims to be a football fan is all over fantasy football in every office and classroom in America. I believe football is a glorious enough sport to be appreciated and savored on its face value. You shouldn’t have to make a little game within the game to enjoy it. And if you do need that to be interested, you’re not a football fan. Go to hell. And for those fantasy players that are real football fans, it messes with your loyalties. If you hate the Cowboys (and you should), but you drafted Tony Romo for your quarterback, how are you going to feel when the Eagles have a late game lead, but the Cowboy’s are driving? If you love real football more than fantasy football, then you’ll hope Romo fumbles away yet another big game. If you love fantasy football more than reality, then you have sold your soul to the stat geek, nerd world of pseudo fandom and you hope Romo passes for another 30 yards to bring up his quarterback rating. For shame.

One more thing. If you are one of these guys that loves fantasy football more than actual football, please keep it to yourself. No one cares about your fantasy football team. Ever. No matter how brilliant your lineup substitution may have been, unless someone specifically asks you about it, just shut up.

It’s like talking about your blog. Nothing wrong with having a blog (I hope) just don’t talk about it. If someone else brings it up, fine. But don’t ever start a sentence, “So have you read my blog? I wrote yesterday about how SSSSSSHHHHHH” See that’s what happens to the person listening. Your voice turns into white noise at that point. “So I drafted both Plaxico Burress and Terrell Owens, but I could only play one of them. So I decided to SSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHH” Buddy, no one else cares. Now if you want to talk about the actual game, let’s shoot the bull. Because the game actually happened. It was a documented event witnessed by thousands of people. You’re brilliance in managing your fantasy team exists only in the world of the hypothetical and therefore is of no value to anyone outside of that same land of make believe.