Again? Yeah, again…

Almost 2 years ago, one of the first things I wrote when I got on my new laptop was the following rant on Brett Favre. I was so utterly disgusted at his annual NFL off-season cocktease that these words flowed like hot lava.  I wish they didn’t prove to be prophetic, or a clear “plug n’ play” where I could switch the words “Jets” for “Vikings”.  And now “Vikings” for “Vikings”   Since Mr Favre can’t be bothered by “training camp” and “common decency” to take his head out of his diva ass, I won’t even change the following column.  At the beginning of the season I predicted that Favre would crush the hopes and dreams of the fans in purple.  I was almost proven wrong, almost.  But as the Vikings Super Bowl ticket was being punched, Mr Favre made an unconscionable  throw into double coverage, and well, we know the rest.  Here’s to you Mr Favre, I don’t know how you so cleverly obscure the facts, but at least I know where to spew my hate this season!

(Eventually, I’ll have to stop writing this column)

I am so sick and tired of Brett Favre and his vacillations between retirement and attempting to relive the glory days of old.  Granted, he did have a phenomenal season during the 2007-08 campaign, no one can deny him that.  Unfortunately it ended at the hands of the Super Bowl Champion New York Football Giants.  A bad pass, a interception, no Super Bowl, no chance at a second ring, no riding off into the sunset.

Wait, he played for the Packers?

There comes a point however, when it is time to let sleeping dogs lie.  This is not the first time Brett toyed with the Green Bay Packer franchise and cheese-head faithful.  He is being a selfish athlete, and that is rather commonplace, but the more damming accusation was that he was holding the franchise that he loved so much, hostage.  After turning down an astronomically absurd offer of $20 million over 10 years to remain in the Packers organization as a PR rep, he threw a tantrum and accused the Packer brass of mis-treating him.  I’m sorry Brett, but the 2008-09 season opener won’t be delayed because you wanted to fish in Mississippi, or hunt in the woods of Wisconson.  Aaron Rogers wont get acclimated to the culture of NFL quarterback, or the respect he deserves when you’re dangling yourself in front of the city like a fine piece of bratwurst before a hungry dog.

Brett Favre you selfish ass.  This ritualistic off-season tomfoolery has hindered (possibly irrevocably) the career of a promising young quarterback, whose only mistake was being drafted in the shadow of a colossus.  Sad thing is, your actions have ensured that this shadow will loom large over Lambeau long after you’ve left, but like a large shadow, you’ve eclipsed all that can be nourished and grown, and left a city with a broken heart and a maladjusted quarterback.

You now bring the final chapter of your career to “Broadway” in the form of the green and white of the New York Jets.  Remember, Brett, New York is a tough town.  More story than substance, more hype than performance, we shall see how bright your star can still shine.

Might have thrown up in my mouth a little…

As he now pollutes the waters of Lake Minnetonka with his 40 year old “rocket arm”, his grizzled beard, his coy smile, and his “4th and touchdown” manner, all I can do is wish the Minnesota Vikings good luck.  And I hope Brad Childress shops around his resume…soon.

Mr Favre, you disgust me

Not quite the face of a champion

Please sit…

Every now and again in the NFL you might catch a team whose defense parts like the Red Sea.  For the sake of the defensive coordinator, this should not happen too often, but occasionally it is a conscious effort on behalf of the defense.  They need to get the ball back, and allowing the opposition to score an easy touchdown will guarantee them of this.  In Major League Baseball a pitcher may be instructed to throw 4 consecutive errant pitches in order to ensure that a slugger doesn’t hit a homerun.

..gratuitous football image...

Normally, the last thing that a stout NFL defense wants, is to surrender a simply touchdown, or a pitcher a homerun.  When these things happen, they are usually cause for uproar, a chorus of boos, and even a trip to the bench.  In those strange instances that this unfavorable situation yields positive results (at least in theory), it is refreshing.  The team marches down the field with just enough time to score the winning touchdown, or the slugger gets stranded at first base, as the pitcher mows down the lineup.

Recently, I took a business trip to the greatest city in the world*.  I caught an early train; one I knew would be filled with the corporate types making their daily trek to New York. I knew the type: three piece suits, wingtips, leather briefcases, unable to stop reading their annual sales/deposition review/Wall Street Journal for even a moment.  This train was bound to be extra packed as it was Monday and there would be a few extra folks making their weekly trip into the city after a suburban respite.  I fell in and out of sleep holding my bag tight to my chest so as not to take up any seats.  I rode the entire ride in silence, and also in solitude…

Later in the week a friend of mine who recently moved to Philly began taking the train to work, and he too commented on the unique nature of his solitude on an otherwise crowded train…

"No, let's find another car"

It just happens that we’re both black males.  No one can decipher our educational background, personality, or general demeanor from a glance while hustling down the aisle.  I remained perplexed while watching people cram into tight seats while I occupied one of those 5 person areas by myself.  No feet up, no bag taking up room, no ignorant music or shockingly loud phone calls, just my blazer and jeans with my iPod.  Passenger after passenger slowed and then chose another more cramped seat.  After the 3^rd or 4^th person passed me by, I just avoided the slight insult.  While not a daily occurrence, I have been the last seat in the theater aisle while sitting 4 seats in enough times for a pattern to form.  The subtle fear or general disdain that comes from possibly sitting next a black male…really benefits me.**  Yup, prejudice benefitting the victim – who knew?

Seat prejudice, yet another unfavorable situation yielding surprisingly positive results.  Please folks, continue to walk by, or do the “look-around”, I appreciate the leg room.

*New York, for the uninformed

**I hesitate to say racism, because maybe I need to take better showers and use a stronger deodorant….

Man Up!

I wish I had a clever lead-in here, but Bob Costas just felt it necessary to tell me that the NFL should take one of three methods to improve its overtime*:

1. Mandate a rule that you must win by 6 points
2. Eliminate the field goal from overtime
3. Give each team a possession

I know that the NCAA has a wonderful overtime system in which each team is allowed to get at least one possession to score/match.  Like a football version of “KnockOut”.  This is fair, collegial and wonderful.  Young men playing for pride, NFL contracts, and the love of the game deserved to be treated fairly.  No feelings need to be hurt, this is college after all, not exactly the “real world”

But this, Mr Costas, is the National Football League.  These are grown men playing the game at the very highest level on the planet, and getting compensated with absurd amounts of money and the perks of a superstar athletic lifestyle.  Their feelings need not be pacified, their egos not coddled.  If you win the coin toss, you don’t automatically win the game.  Statistically, only 28% of the teams that win the coin toss go on to score on their opening possession.  This tells me that 28% of the time, the defense can’t stand up and make a stop.

This is football, not 3rd grade playground tag.  If your defense can’t make a stop, well then, enjoy a quiet ride home, because you lost the game.  This isn’t “fair” but its real life, and its still a game, get over it, work harder and move on.

The NFL needs to start mandating that players where double sided mouthguards and better modernized helmets to prevent concussions and future brain damage; or start offering more comprehensive health care to the aging pioneers of the game.

But the sudden death overtime?  Let it be and have the men play like men.

 

*The current “first to score” method has many critics

Damn.

I consider myself a pretty worldly and well read individual, but there is a lot that I do not know; such as the realm of superstardom inhabited by athletes and celebrities of all walks of life.  I could never imagine casually dropping $2,000 for a meal, or strolling into a retail store, shutting it down, and dropping a cool million, especially on a semi–regular basis.   I don’t aspire to exist in this “other” dual reality, mine is just fine for now, but that is not to say I don’t think about it.

...so sweet...

At the advent of the NFL season, one thing I can’t stop thinking about is my favorite team’s former star receiver, Plaxico Burress  - a situation that still bothers me.  There had to be more to this than Plaxico being a reckless idiot.  That rocket to superstardom crashed so abruptly.  It hit its peak during his post Super Bowl 42 interview.  Immediately after the game was over and the confetti was raining down inside the stadium, he was seen grabbing his young son and just soaking in this historic moment.  He had just caught the winning touchdown to slay the mighty New England Patriots and he wanted to share this moment with no one more than his young son.  After the Giants Super Bowl victory, that was my perfect cap to an amazing evening.  In that moment I saw him shedding all the nay-sayers, all those who called him young, stupid and irresponsible.  All those fans in Pittsburgh who turned their back on him.

...even sweeter...

“F**k you all” I thought, “He’s a doting father, a mature receiver, and a New York football Giant, and the haters can step off’

When he showed up late to practice the following season because he had to take his son to school, I was confused, but at least it ran consistent with the image of the new Plaxico, a family man that doggedly stuck to his fatherly duties.

And then gunshots inside the Latin Quarter.  They grazed Plaxico’s leg, and also obliterated my shell of optimism.   Felt personally hurt, how could Plaxico do this to himself?  His wife?  His young son?  His fans?  Never in my years had I been so disappointed by a pro athlete. I didn’t look to him as an idol (since he is about 3 years older than I am), but rather as a success.  A reformed young gun, someone whose ignorance was dissolved by the love of and from his child.  I was both dumbfounded and embarrassed to be proven wrong.

Another black male engaging in tomfoolery, when he was otherwise untouchable.  Check.

Another young black male growing up with a father in prison.  Check.

Another example of an athlete being unfairly used as an example.  Check.

Another year of young fans having to ask why their favorite athlete isn’t playing.  Check.

The NFL has begun in incredible fashion, and other receivers will overshadow Plaxico with both their play (Larry Fitzgerald) and their immaturity (Brandon Marshall).  As he serves his time in prison, he will fade out of the collective conscious of the average NFL fan.  For me, however, his football future is far second to his personal future.  I can only hope that a fellow young black male learns this extremely difficult lesson in time to salvage the rest of what was shaping to be a great career.

exit stage left...

A Grimey Gridiron Tradition

About a year ago one of the first things I wrote when I got on my new la was the following rant on Brett Favre. I was so utterly disgusted at his annual NFL off-season cocktease that these words flowed like hot lava.  I wish they didn’t prove to be prophetic, or a clear “plug n’ play” where I could switch the words “Jets” for “Vikings”.  Ugh….

I am so sick and tired of Brett Favre and his vacillations between retirement and attempting to relive the glory days of old.  Granted, he did have a phenomenal season during the 2007-08 campaign, no one can deny him that.  Unfortunately it ended at the hands of the Super Bowl Champion New York Football Giants.  A bad pass, a interception, no Super Bowl, no chance at a second ring, no riding off into the sunset.

A little dislike

There comes a point however, when it is time to let sleeping dogs lie.  This is not the first time Brett toyed with the Green Bay Packer franchise and cheese-head faithful.  He is being a selfish athlete, and that is rather commonplace, but the more damming accusation was that he was holding the franchise that he loved so much, hostage.  After turning down an astronomically absurd offer of $20 million over 10 years to remain in the Packers organization as a PR rep, he threw a tantrum and accused the Packer brass of mis-treating him.  I’m sorry Brett, but the 2008-09 season opener won’t be delayed because you wanted to fish in Mississippi, or hunt in the woods of Wisconson.  Aaron Rogers wont get acclimated to the culture of NFL quarterback, or the respect he deserves when you’re dangling yourself in front of the city like a fine piece of bratwurst before a hungry dog.

Brett Favre you selfish ass.  This ritualistic off-season tomfoolery has hindered (possibly irrevocably) the career of a promising young quarterback, whose only mistake was being drafted in the shadow of a colossus.  Sad thing is, your actions have ensured that this shadow will loom large over Lambeau long after you’ve left, but like a large shadow, you’ve eclipsed all that can be nourished and grown, and left a city with a broken heart and a maladjusted quarterback.

You now bring the final chapter of your career to “Broadway” in the form of the green and white of the New York Jets.  Remember, Brett, New York is a tough town.  More story than substance, more hype than performance, we shall see how bright your star can still shine.

Might have thrown up in my mouth a little...

As he now pollutes the waters of Lake Minnetonka with his 40 year old “rocket arm”, his grizzled beard, his coy smile, and his “4th and touchdown” manner, all I can do is wish the Minnesota Vikings good luck.  And I hope Brad Childress shops around his resume…soon.

Mr Favre, you disgust me