I am America (and so can you!) (77 page)

all they ever do.

s OK because skating is

BASKETBALL:
We invented basketball, and it has become so popular that we’ve developed two versions of it: the college, or “classic,” version of the game, in which rules are followed and at most above-average athletes can excel; and the NBA version of the game, in which 7-foot-tall monster freaks leap about on trampolines while swinging their massive elbows like cudgels and running four steps without dribbling before taking off from their opponent’s foul line to slam dunk. Each version can be appreciated on its own merits: the NBA for its display of superhuman abilities and larger-than-life personas, and college for its easy-to-understand gambling format. While it’s true that Team USA hasn’t come in better than 3rd place in most recent World Competitions, that’s OK, because the losses are more due to the hubris of our players than their abilities, thus teaching our children a sound moral lesson: If you make enough money in what you do, it doesn’t matter if you have your ass handed to you by a Lithuanian.

79

I A M A M E R I C A ( A N D S O C A N Y O U ! )

TIME OUT: Nothing is less American than the Army-Navy game. Whichever side you pick, you’re rooting
against
our boys. The Army and Navy squads should be combined, and they should play football against teams from any other country, and instead of footballs they would used bomb-balls. And Air Force can do kickoffs.

FOOTBALL:
Football started out as a great idea: “What if we took rugby and got rid of the part where guys stick their heads in each others’ butts?” The idea caught on. Soon someone realized that the game would be even more fun if you could throw the ball
forward
. This change took football into its golden age, which continued until they switched over to cowhide. Much of the drama is gone from football these days, as technology has taken over. Plastic helmets have replaced the far more stylish helmets which were less about protecting
When was the last

the head and more about clothing it.

time you heard of

somebody with a

leather football

helmet getting hurt?

Exactly. They work.

SPORTS TO IGNORE

DIVING:
Not sure what the big achievement is in walking off the end of a plank and succumbing to gravity. Big deal. To really make the divers demonstrate some skill, the diving events should be held in a zero-G environment like
Houston, we have a

the International Space Station.

forward somersault

pike.

CYCLING:
It seems a colossal waste to me to have a dozen cyclists, in peak condition, furiously pedaling their sleek carbon-fiber machines at mindboggling speeds…and not a single one of them is carrying a takeout order of Chinese food. Because once you’re past the age of 12, the only legitimate reason I can think of to get on a bicycle is to deliver someone’s steamy container of moo shu pork. I say we limit the cycling events to professional delivery boys
Next to Spandex bike

shorts, jean shorts

and bike messengers, and here’s a thrilling twist I came up with the other night
look macho.

while watching
The Road to Perdition
: Each contestant is carrying an envelope he’s supposed to deliver to the judge. Inside that envelope: an order to shoot the cyclist dead. The spectators know what’s in the notes—the athletes
Don’t tell.

have no idea!!!!

80

SYNCHRONIZED SWIMMING:
I defy you to watch this sport and tell me
I told you to ignore these.
Skip Ahead!

the Olympics have no hidden gay agenda, and probably some kind of nose clip kickback scheme going on as well. Besides, a sport in which you win by doing exactly what your partner is doing goes against our American tradition of individuality; it’s the aquatic equivalent of the Soviet army marching in lockstep through Red Square, if that army were also wearing women’s bathing suits and occasionally twirling in unison. So I reject synchronized swimming, and call instead for it to be replaced by an improvised freestyle underwater dance jam. Still gay, but now American gay.

A QUICK NOTE ABOUT THE OLYMPICS

The Olympics began in perversion: greased up naked men slapping hot sweaty body parts against one another’s taut and hairless flesh in pursuit of
Gold Medal Flour,
this would be a

victory, like Chippendale’s dancers at an after-hours party. And the tradition
great section of the
chapter for you to

of perversion4 continues—because as an international athletic competition,
sub-sponsor.
the Olympics are a warped, watered-down version of the only worthy contest between nations: war.

True arguments over international status are not settled by who can throw a fancy hubcap farther. They are settled by invasion. Sure, war takes longer than a 100-meter footrace, but it’s much more dramatic, and you don’t have to pretend to care about the bronze. Now, I’m not saying that every four years we should have a World War. Such a scenario would play hell with my stock portfolio. I’m simply saying that the modern Olympics should be more like war, in that there should be consequences for winning and losing. The Koreans beat Italy in slalom? They get Michelangelo’s David. Rwanda beats Sweden in the high jump? They get to move to Sweden. If Afghanistan defeats us in the biathlon, they can have Connecticut. Warning to you, Connecticut—support our president.

4
Called a “bi-athlon” for a reason

81

I A M A M E R I C A ( A N D S O C A N Y O U ! )

FENCING
: I like the concept. I don’t like the masks, or protective jumpsuits, and for God sake use a real sword, not those effete little French things. I mean, does “epee” sound like something you could open an artery with? You need a blade that wouldn’t embarrass a pirate, or maybe one of those martial arts swords that looks like a long walking stick but then when a guy tries to attack you, you pull it apart and whoosh! It’s actually two swords. Speaking of martial arts, a few throwing stars couldn’t hurt fencing, or any sport for that matter. And can we please get rid of that ridiculous electronic scoring system that uses sensors to tell us someone has made a hit? That’s what blood is for.
A LEAGUE OF ONE’S OWN

A NOTE ABOUT WOMEN’S SPORTS:
Now I’m not a misogynist, but women have no place in a man’s world, especially if that world is profitable sports. Let’s leave the multi-million-dollar contracts and rich product endorsements to the big boys and you ladies can stick to the ladylike sports, ones where you can wear skirts such as field hockey or the Scottish caber toss.
Lady like

82

A C H A N C E F O R AV E R AG E A M E R I C A N S TO AG R E E W I T H W H AT I T H I N K

They say football is a game of inches, or maybe that’s

baseball. You know what? Who cares? Because if you care

about inches, play horseshoes.

Football is the game I love. That’s why I’ll brave five-degree

weather to stand in a beer line. Those guys are out there playin’

for me, the least I can do is show up and drink.

Coming through with beers here! Coming through! Deb, can

you grab one? C’mon. Drink fast and keep up with me, because

The Guy Sitting Next

I’m not gonna make extra trips for you in between
my
beer
to You At The Stadium

runs. You know
exactly
what I’m talkin’ about.

So, why do I love football? Is it because of the action?

You bet your sweet derri-ass, but that’s only part of the story, because the real game happens in the mind. It’s like chess. Kick ooofff! Let’s fucking do this! Run, you stupid son of a bitch! Run! Wedge, throw the wedge! Oh, come ooonnnnnn! Deb, you watching this?! What are you doing? Are you kidding me? Who are you talkin’

to? What are you talkin’ to her for? Fuck Deb, we’re at the game, what’s with all the talking? Why aren’t you drinkin’? You’re already behind.

I remember when I was a kid my Dad used to take me to the games. I used to keep a sheet on all the players. I remember all the great ones: Sweetness, Jack “The Assassin”

Tatum, “Babalu,” “Bucketfoot Al,” “Le Demond Blond,” “Touchy Taffy,” and “Dr. Puntenstein.” Those guys gave a hundred and ten percent on the field every Sunday, just so a dad who wasn’t home much could have the chance to spend a few hours with his arm around his son sitting on a cold wooden seat sharing a beer. Ohhhhh! Look who they’re putting in! Whooo hooo! Pennington. Fucking Pennington! Hey, PENNINGTON!

You pretty boy! You whiney country club
pussy
! It’s gonna be a long day, Pennington. It’s gonna be a looong fuckin’ day! Hold on to the ball you bastard! FUUUUUCK! Oh FUMBLE! Get on that BALL! Yeah!! Debbie, look-look. You see that big pile? I hear guys on the bottom of that thing are brutal. Gougin’ eyes, grabbin’ balls, squeezing balls, bitin’ balls. Wait, here comes the ref. What!!! Bullshit! COME ON!
Bullll-Shit, Bullll-
Shit, Bullll-Shit!
Yeah, Deb, you got it.
Bullll-Shit!
Did you see that shit?

Hey, so uh Deb, what’d Tricia have to say? What!? I’m just trying to be interested. Jesus, Debbie. No! You’re so jealous. Forget it. No, seriously, forget it. Drop it. Jesus, Deb. Jesus. Let’s go DE-fense! Let’s get a STOP!

Some things don’t change for the players, whether they’re home or away. When you’re on the field, you gotta knock people down, and you gotta put ’em down to stay down. That’s it. Easy math. But what does change is, when you’re home, you’ve got the fans. Fans can definitely sway a game. Collectively we’re like an extra player. All these people filling up these seats are like my teammates and we are here to rock the house and kick some ass.

Nachos!

What

the

fuck
man? You just cashed my
fucking
nachos! I had ’em balanced on the arm rest dipshit, and you rattled the whole row of seats with that fat train of yours!