I am America (and so can you!) (49 page)

C H E V R O N “ T H E G A S W I T H T E C H R O N ” S P O R T S C H A P T E R

RULES OF THE GAME: Sports contain a lot of rules, and I’m not a fan of

“rules,” especially when it comes to sports. That’s just Big Government interference. Let the free market decide what constitutes a touchdown.
Chevron, sponsoring this

chapter was a home run!

SPORTS IN THE NEW MILLENNIUM

The big story in sports right now is athletes taking drugs, making themselves better with steroids and human growth hormone. Some people have a problem with this, but not me.

NEWS FLASH: Athletes perform for our enjoyment. So “performanceenhancing drugs” are really “enjoyment-enhancing drugs.”

Bravo, Mr. Bonds.

The fact is, Americans want the best of everything. That’s why Americans won’t watch women’s basketball. Every time I see a lady make a shot I think, “I bet a guy could’ve made that better.” “Enhanced” athletics are the same way. Back in the day when sports consisted of little slow guys hitting set shots, bunting, and staging Statue of Liberty plays, the public was satisfied because they didn’t know any better. But now that we’ve seen huge behemoths with 2% body fat and misshapen foreheads leap over piles of bodies to crush each other’s larynx, we can’t go back. That’s why I’m proposing the end of all regula-
Also no going back
post-Black.

tions on what athletes do to themselves. If a guy wants to shoot himself up with hormones or chimp sperm, that’s his business. The only thing that matters is performance on the field. Now a lot of people ask, “What kind of message would this send to our young people?” To which I reply, “Don’t suck. Go the extra mile to actually be good or you’ll be selling insurance.” With those forces at work in the marketplace of modern scientific body modification, our sports will continue to be the most entertaining in the world.

TRASH TALK

Sometimes the best performance-enhancing drugs come from the mind. This might come in handy when there aren’t any regular performance-enhancing drugs around, or maybe you have them but there’s no time to inject. Like when you’re in that five-on-five company league hoops game covering the sweaty
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I A M A M E R I C A ( A N D S O C A N Y O U ! )

guy with the mustache and knee brace—let’s call him Carl2 —and he’s driving toward the basket and your only options are A) to plant a shoulder in his meaty flank or B) let him score. That’s when it’s time to let loose with option C) a little trash-talk.

Try this:

“Hey Carl, what’s your favorite system of geologically significant caverns?

Mine is ‘Carlsbad’... at basketball!”

Did I need to hit him that hard? Maybe not, but in the heat of after-work coed
Even during the

basketball, you don’t always have time to perceive your opponent as a human.
work day, it’s hard

to perceive Carl

as a human.

Healthy trash-talk is a vital pillar of the Temple of Sport, and as with the Acropolis its erosion portends the downfall of our civilization.
I’m sure Carl would

“Hey, let’s give everyone a trophy, even the kid who never gets put in the game
say the same thing.

and seems to enjoy himself anyway.” That’s what Coach PC Police says. Well, I’ve got a trophy for that kid, and it’s a big bronze boot to commemorate his being kicked out of the league. I don’t want my son thinking that mediocrity is an option—“Success or Exposure,” that’s the Colbert motto. We need to teach our children that their peers are competitors for food, shelter, and
We must stop Carl

eventually mates. And I know I’m not going to win any awards for saying that,
from mating.

probably because these days all the awards have already been given out for

“Good Effort.”

The scene: Weehawken, New Jersey. A duel between Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr. As Hamilton loads his dueling pistol, Burr tells him only fools and mountebanks will use the ten-dollar bill. Hamilton takes umbrage and begins to tell Burr that firstly the ten-dollar bill does not yet exist, and furthermore only dead people can legally appear on U.S. curren…BANG!

Welcome to my wallet, Al.

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2
Names have not been changed. If Carl can’t handle it maybe he should find another church basement to
dribble in. No one drives my lane without paying a toll.