A Rant and a Rave

I've never considered myself the kind of person likely to go postal.  No doubt more than a few people who've watched sporting events with me would disagree, but I swear it's true.  It's not because I'm against ending the lives of those who's existence I don't approve, but because gunning down a large number of them would no doubt spell the end of my life as well, at least as a free man.  Not to mention it isn't a very creative way to smite one's enemies, or a fun way to go out. 

If I ever felt like throwing in the towel on life, I'd opt for something a bit lighter on the vengeance and heavier on the self-destructive behavior, perhaps a smack habit and a lot of unprotected sex with a horde of hookers.  Not looking to go that route at the moment, but I could certainly see how it might be liberating.  One minute you're worrying about work, school, kids, mortgage, etc., the next you're on permanent sick days with a persistent case of the f*ck-its.  Worry would be out of the vocabulary permanently.  It's these types of thoughts that make me think I'd be an unreliable parent.

I bring this up because if there's one thing that could push me over the edge and go on a rampage, it's the lack of an NFL season this fall.  It's bad enough that we've suffered through the worst sports year in the history of state (planet Earth?), now there isn't even any football chatter to subsist on.  Well unless of course you count the legal type, and if that entertains you, I'd like to clock you in the head with the 'S' volume of the Encyclopedia Brittanica.  Stopping to think about it, that'd be my first time using a physical encyclopedia volume since high school, nice to know they do have some value.

With the Twins dead and buried before Memorial Day, this is the worst possible time for the NFL to be pulling this crap.  I want to ready about trades and free agents, not mediation and decertification.  Stealing a full or partial season of my favorite league would be cruel under the best of conditions, tacking it on to the previous twelve months is just plain evil.  In April, I could laugh about it.  In May, a slight concern began to crop up.  Now it's June, and the only remaining distraction is a baseball team that looks better suited for beer league softball.  Give it another month, and I cannot be held responsible for my actions.

The ongoing legal mumbo jumbo surrounding the lockout seems to be about figuring out which side has leverage.  Can the owners use their TV slush fund?  Can the owners lock the players out in the first place?  Is there an anti-trust issue?  The whole thing just makes you want to donkey punch the first guy you see wearing a three-piece suit.  Nobody gives a rats ass about any of this crap, all we want is out football!  But since these questions apparently have crucial implications at the bargaining table (Step 2 in the process), they must be decided before an agreement can actually be hashed out.  Any sports fan can appreciate the premise that the rules of the game must be set before play can commence, but what we can't tolerate is the amount of d*cking around going on in courtrooms while precious time continues to slip away.  The whole thing stinks of lawyers dragging things out to up the hours they can bill, just another party angling for every dime they can squeeze out of the game of football.

But I have a solution to this mess, at least temporarily: A one-year extension of the CBA under the terms of last season.  You want to keep effing with the collective mind of the American sports fan?  Go ahead, you have one more month to do so.  But at that point, after all the arguments have been heard and three-judge panels rendered their verdicts, it's time to get back to the business of playing football games.  By all means continue to negotiate, in fact you have a full year to hash out an agreement.  The rules of the game have been set this offseason, now you need to move forward on that basis.  If the prior set of rules were good enough for past seasons, how much harm could it do to play one more on the same terms?  Sure I know it's possible that the two sides will be pigheaded enough to let the dispute linger on, and put us right back in the same spot twelve months from now, and if that happens, so be it.  You can cancel the season and continue with your staredown, common sense be damned.

Of course I know this will never happen, for myriad reasons.  The most prominent being that no side seems willing to compromise in these situations until the clock is about to strike midnight.  Still had to bring it up though, both out of my own desparate fear and one example of how simply this thing could be dealt with.  The greed that drove the parties to this point probably wouldn't vanish with the passage of time.  Instead of accepting the situation as it currently stands, they'd likely re-open the same cans of worms, pressing for a more favorable judge or venue, in hopes of gaining the all-powerful leverage.  But hey, you never know, there's a slim chance that both parties would assess the current environment and actually get serious on making a deal.  I'm sure there's a bunch of administrative nonsense that isn't being considered here, but that's my plan: One year, same terms.  If it doesn't work, cancel all the seasons you want, but for right now, PLAY BALL!

So that's the negative end of things, but to leave things on a positive note, I'd like to give a tip o the cap to the excellent start of the two Finals series currently going on.  I predicted Miami and Vancouver to each win in 6, before the Dallas comeback last night, that was looking a bit shaky.  Boston should've stolen game one against the Canucks, and their near miss has me concerned that a letdown might be do tomorrow.  Nevertheless, both have started well, and the unsung hero of the whole thing (at least for me) is the Vancouver organist. 

Not to many cooler jobs than organ player, and the best ones have it down to a tee.  On Wednesday night, I heard "Hold The Line" during a Vancouver power play, "Cold As Ice" following a 4-minute major call on the home team and "Ice, Ice, Baby" after an icing call.  Well it was either that or "Under Pressure", the two are indistinguishable when played on an organ.  That would've fit as well, considering that Canucks were buzzing at the time.  You can pull off a two-song double entendre, then you're aces in my book, well done organ guy.