UPDATE: Filtering Craig has a similar take on his own blog. The Starting Five will be posting an interview with LZ Granderson about the incident shortly, and from my brief conversation with Mizzo, it'll be worth your time and bring in new details.
LZ, I've usually enjoyed reading your columns and found them informative. I read your latest article on ESPN.com about your adventure in New Orleans, where you apparently had an alteraction with a drunken group of men who tried to beat you up. While I am curious what exactly you said to those drunken boors to trigger physical violence, I'll take your word for it that you were the innocent victim in this situation. It must have been terrible to be walking along, dressed up for the party, and then have a group of men randomly yelling derogatory homosexual epithets at you. According to your own article, there was no obvious sign of your homosexuality, unless you count slightly tighter than normal clothing. You weren't kissing a guy, and it doesn't sound like your T-shirt read "I love Men", ha. Yet, this crowd somehow picked up on the fact that you are a homosexual, and hounded you for it. They grabbed at incomplete evidence, made an assumption that they had no right to make (but since when are drunks logical), and judged you as being homosexual and in need of mockery. An acquiantance once told me that this was the hardest part of being attracted to men; the feeling that it's instantly obvious to everyone that he was, and not being able to turn off those "vibes" in the presence of other people. (The more crass refer to this as "gaydar", if you will.) Perhaps that was what stung you the most and caused you to "go Detroit" on those drunks; the feeling that you were being judged on circumstantial evidence, at best, by a bunch of strangers who didn't know you and had never heard you speak. It's a cruel feeling for those different from the mainstream in appearance to suffer through.
I'm not here to lessen the emotional impact of what happened to you; in fact, I want you to fully think about how you felt on that day, when people judged you without ever understanding you. Then, think about the Brady Quinn story and its similarities to your own. Once again, we have drunk people doing stupid things. Once again, we have incomplete evidence being used to make a judgment on what someone is or isn't, on what someone did or didn't do. There was a 911 call that blamed Brady for hurling insults, but I'm sure that, being a black man, you know that people tend to blame the person who stands out from the crowd when something bad happens. Brady Quinn did get in an argument with some guy, but we don't know exactly what the two men were arguing about, and the police never arrested Brady. Instead, they arrested the other man. Perhaps there was a police coverup because he was a local sports hero; but we have no way of knowing that, do we?
So then, why pull Brady Quinn's story into your own and judge him on the basis of incomplete evidence to make a point about the NFL? The NFL has nothing to do with your own story in New Orleans; it was the NBA All-Star game. Why use stories about drunk men misbehaving late at night to make it seem as if Gay America has something to fear from the 96% of us who don't think getting drunk and intimidating people is a socially responsible act?
I promise you that if I had seen what happened to you in New Orleans, I would have helped you, because a drunken mob is a scary thing indeed when a man faces it alone. Questions of morality are best discussed over a good cup of coffee, not a trampled body. But I resent your attempt to bring additional scrutiny to a football player who already has been unfairly villified for his appearance and sexuality for the sake of furthering your own agenda. I'm a Browns fan, and I'm upset at the level of unsubstantiated gossip already attached to Brady Quinn before he's thrown 10 passes in the NFL. The man will have a hard enough time adjusting to the NFL (we all saw those Notre Dame bowl games!) without having to be punished in the court of social opinion for crimes it's not clear he ever committed. To me, it feels like you're adding to that gossip and making the same unfair judgments on someone else as what was done to you in New Orleans. There were better ways for you to prove your point than dragging Brady Quinn into the story. Your own story was a strong enough reminder that although we may disagree with our neighbor's morals, we all have a responsibility to protect our neighbors from physical harm.
Showing posts with label Open Letter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Open Letter. Show all posts
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Friday, January 18, 2008
Bostocalypse Now and Forever
I have Boston fever. I want the Patriots to win this weekend. I want them to demolish the Chargers by a score of 42-10, and I want each Patriot to take a turn imitating Shawne Merriman's lightning dance at midfield. Then I want the Patriots to win the Super Bowl in dominating fashion. I want Harrison to break Brett Favre in two on a ferocious blitz and then pretend he doesn't know the meaning of "roid rage" after the game. I want ESPN.com to retire the "Who was the best team" polls for the NFL because the Patriots were so dominant. Then I want the Boston Celtics to make a championship coach out of Doc Rivers and a household name out of Rajon Rondo. To top it all off, I want Jon Lester's formerly cancerous body to throw a no-hitter in Game 4 of the 2008 World Series, and out-dance Papelbon as the Red Sox celebrate back-to-back World Series wins. But that's not enough for me.
I want all Boston teams to win the championship again in 2009.
And then once more in 2010.
I want people to see "Celtic music" in the bookstore and wonder when Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen released their duet.
I want people to hear "Patriot Act" and think that's a new NFL rule aimed at breaking up the Patriot dynasty.
I want to see branded player products like "Garnett Gum", "Ortiz's Oranges" and "Papelpon's Pens" sold all over the US.
I want to see Harvard trustees vote to change the school name to "BHarvard", where the B is silent, just so they can put "B's" on their school clothing. Then the professors protest and insist on a vote...and vote 419-0 "For", just so they can show their Boston support too.
I want Rutgers and Rawlings to decide that their little red "R" needs a little sideways parenthesis on its bottom so it looks like a "B".
I want to see "Bostonize" in the urban dictionary, meaning "1. to dominate to the point of embarrassment; 2. to be victorious." I want to hear Soulja Boy release a new version of the song where they replace "Superman that" with "Bostonize that."
I want to watch as the President invites prominent Boston athletes to sit in the front row, just to boost his sagging approval ratings.
I want to see bookshelves everywhere straining under the weight of Boston athlete autobiographies, to the point that the books aren't even about sports anymore. I want classics like Ryan O'Callaghan's "Adding the O' to your Relationship" and Glen Davis' "Care and Feeding for your New Big Baby: The First Six Months" to top the New York Times' best-seller lists.
I want Tom Brady to get his own show on TBN where the blind see after getting a Tom Brady spiral right between the eyes.
In short, I want Boston to reign supreme for the next three years, launching a Bostocalyptic dynasty on the sports world. Throw in Boston College and the Bruins while you're at it. Let confetti rain down like snow in January on Foxboro's turf! They deserve it--think of it, they went an ENTIRE DECADE without a championship! In the 80's, all they had was 3 NBA championships and 1, only one World Series appearance and Super Bowl visit. That's it! They deserve it, right Philadelphia, Cleveland, Seattle, and Buffalo fans? They've gone through a lot, right, Cubs fans?
Ah...but then I want to be there when Garnett blows out both knees after Rasheed Wallace undercuts him in the play-offs, when Randy Moss and Manny Ramirez get caught trying to sell kidnapped dwarves on eBay in a wacky scheme only they understand and spend a decade in prison, when the Patriots spy cam catches Rodney Harrison giving Tom Brady his weekly steroid injection under the stadium steps, when a desperate Hank Steinbrenner lures Theo Epstein to the Yankees by pointing out that NYC ladies are hotter, and when David Ortiz's bat stops hitting home runs.
Then, for the next twenty years, I want the universe restored to its rightful order, where Bill Belichick has as much chance of being named "the other man" in a divorce settlement as I have of being the father of Bridget Moynihan's next child, and Boston teams return to mediocrity after completely spoiling their fans.
I want to hear the cries of outraged adolescent Bill Simmons wanna-bes, because they can't publish "Now I can graduate high school in peace" without failing out of yet another year of school.
I want to watch any woman walk into a bar wearing "Patriots Super Bowl Champion" t-shirts and immediately know how old she is because she owns that shirt.
I want to smell no food in the tailgate lots, because all the fairweather fans are gone and even season ticket holders barely come for the game itself.
I want to see Fitzy Links on "townienews.com" shrinking to one entry where you can find Fitzy, titled "Fitzy on Friend's Couch", and the site itself going from townienews.com to townienews.whydoesntanyonewatchanymore.blogspot.com. I want to read that Bill Simmons' dad refuses to be interviewed for the column anymore, and considers sports a waste of time. I want the Red Sox Monster to change its name to "Red Sox Midgets." I want to watch the tears flow as the dad puts Boston gear on his newborn son, the kid starts crying, and the dad says mournfully "He already knows!."
I want to hear brash young talk radio hosts hanging up on elderly Bostonians whose voice quavers as they beg to be allowed to relive the glories of Brady and Belichick one last time.
I want to see Harvard literature professors attempting to be funny and saying "If The Scarlet Letter was written today, Hestor Prynne would be wearing a scarlet 'B'."...and the class laughs!
I want to know the magic phrases to make tough Bostonian construction workers cry in the bar--phrases like “Kevin Garnett knee injury” or “Tom Brady diminishing skills."
I want to watch the President openly plead with Bob Kraft to change the team name from Patriots, because they don't deserve to represent America.
I want people to see your "B" hat and ask you "What does the 'B' stand for?"
Enjoy the good times while they last, Boston fans, and brag in the comments about how your teams are so much better than ours. You earned this moment--or at least players wearing the name of your town did. And many of you are classy, fun fans. But please, give us other fans a break. This was written for fun and amusement today. Give me another six months of Boston overkill, and I'll mean every last word.
Signed,
Bitter Cleveland Fan
I want all Boston teams to win the championship again in 2009.
And then once more in 2010.
I want people to see "Celtic music" in the bookstore and wonder when Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen released their duet.
I want people to hear "Patriot Act" and think that's a new NFL rule aimed at breaking up the Patriot dynasty.
I want to see branded player products like "Garnett Gum", "Ortiz's Oranges" and "Papelpon's Pens" sold all over the US.
I want to see Harvard trustees vote to change the school name to "BHarvard", where the B is silent, just so they can put "B's" on their school clothing. Then the professors protest and insist on a vote...and vote 419-0 "For", just so they can show their Boston support too.
I want Rutgers and Rawlings to decide that their little red "R" needs a little sideways parenthesis on its bottom so it looks like a "B".
I want to see "Bostonize" in the urban dictionary, meaning "1. to dominate to the point of embarrassment; 2. to be victorious." I want to hear Soulja Boy release a new version of the song where they replace "Superman that" with "Bostonize that."
I want to watch as the President invites prominent Boston athletes to sit in the front row, just to boost his sagging approval ratings.
I want to see bookshelves everywhere straining under the weight of Boston athlete autobiographies, to the point that the books aren't even about sports anymore. I want classics like Ryan O'Callaghan's "Adding the O' to your Relationship" and Glen Davis' "Care and Feeding for your New Big Baby: The First Six Months" to top the New York Times' best-seller lists.
I want Tom Brady to get his own show on TBN where the blind see after getting a Tom Brady spiral right between the eyes.
In short, I want Boston to reign supreme for the next three years, launching a Bostocalyptic dynasty on the sports world. Throw in Boston College and the Bruins while you're at it. Let confetti rain down like snow in January on Foxboro's turf! They deserve it--think of it, they went an ENTIRE DECADE without a championship! In the 80's, all they had was 3 NBA championships and 1, only one World Series appearance and Super Bowl visit. That's it! They deserve it, right Philadelphia, Cleveland, Seattle, and Buffalo fans? They've gone through a lot, right, Cubs fans?
Ah...but then I want to be there when Garnett blows out both knees after Rasheed Wallace undercuts him in the play-offs, when Randy Moss and Manny Ramirez get caught trying to sell kidnapped dwarves on eBay in a wacky scheme only they understand and spend a decade in prison, when the Patriots spy cam catches Rodney Harrison giving Tom Brady his weekly steroid injection under the stadium steps, when a desperate Hank Steinbrenner lures Theo Epstein to the Yankees by pointing out that NYC ladies are hotter, and when David Ortiz's bat stops hitting home runs.
Then, for the next twenty years, I want the universe restored to its rightful order, where Bill Belichick has as much chance of being named "the other man" in a divorce settlement as I have of being the father of Bridget Moynihan's next child, and Boston teams return to mediocrity after completely spoiling their fans.
I want to hear the cries of outraged adolescent Bill Simmons wanna-bes, because they can't publish "Now I can graduate high school in peace" without failing out of yet another year of school.
I want to watch any woman walk into a bar wearing "Patriots Super Bowl Champion" t-shirts and immediately know how old she is because she owns that shirt.
I want to smell no food in the tailgate lots, because all the fairweather fans are gone and even season ticket holders barely come for the game itself.
I want to see Fitzy Links on "townienews.com" shrinking to one entry where you can find Fitzy, titled "Fitzy on Friend's Couch", and the site itself going from townienews.com to townienews.whydoesntanyonewatchanymore.blogspot.com. I want to read that Bill Simmons' dad refuses to be interviewed for the column anymore, and considers sports a waste of time. I want the Red Sox Monster to change its name to "Red Sox Midgets." I want to watch the tears flow as the dad puts Boston gear on his newborn son, the kid starts crying, and the dad says mournfully "He already knows!."
I want to hear brash young talk radio hosts hanging up on elderly Bostonians whose voice quavers as they beg to be allowed to relive the glories of Brady and Belichick one last time.
I want to see Harvard literature professors attempting to be funny and saying "If The Scarlet Letter was written today, Hestor Prynne would be wearing a scarlet 'B'."...and the class laughs!
I want to know the magic phrases to make tough Bostonian construction workers cry in the bar--phrases like “Kevin Garnett knee injury” or “Tom Brady diminishing skills."
I want to watch the President openly plead with Bob Kraft to change the team name from Patriots, because they don't deserve to represent America.
I want people to see your "B" hat and ask you "What does the 'B' stand for?"
Enjoy the good times while they last, Boston fans, and brag in the comments about how your teams are so much better than ours. You earned this moment--or at least players wearing the name of your town did. And many of you are classy, fun fans. But please, give us other fans a break. This was written for fun and amusement today. Give me another six months of Boston overkill, and I'll mean every last word.
Signed,
Bitter Cleveland Fan
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Open Letter to Michael Jordan
Dear Michael Jordan,
We'd like to thank you for the excellent example you set for NBA stars to follow in the years to come. Our coaches and various on-air personalities continually tell us to look to you for inspiration and guidance. We have, and we thank you.
Thank you for your example that yelling at teammates shows leadership and passion rather than camera-friendly exhibitionism and off-putting narcissism.
Thank you for your example that demanding the ball on every play down the stretch is a fundamentally sound strategy rather than easily-defended selfishness and short-sightedness.
Thank you for making NBA fans think that passing the ball to a teammate in the final seconds is a sign of weakness rather than a clever and logical reaction to a tight defense.
Thank you for winning so many championships that no one remembers it took you four years to lead the Bulls to a winning record and six years for the Bulls to win more than 50 games.
Thank you for helping encourage NBA stars to think of themselves as endorsers and brand names first and players who love the game second.
Thank you for making sure that any player in the 6'4" -6'8" height range will be compared to a legend's highlight film rather than a current head-to-head rival.
Sincerely,
Kobe Bryant, Lebron James, Dwayne Wade, and Carmelo Anthony.
(Written in annoyance the day after Christmas, after hearing one too many NBA commentators use "Such-and-such should" followed by a Michael Jordan reference.)
We'd like to thank you for the excellent example you set for NBA stars to follow in the years to come. Our coaches and various on-air personalities continually tell us to look to you for inspiration and guidance. We have, and we thank you.
Thank you for your example that yelling at teammates shows leadership and passion rather than camera-friendly exhibitionism and off-putting narcissism.
Thank you for your example that demanding the ball on every play down the stretch is a fundamentally sound strategy rather than easily-defended selfishness and short-sightedness.
Thank you for making NBA fans think that passing the ball to a teammate in the final seconds is a sign of weakness rather than a clever and logical reaction to a tight defense.
Thank you for winning so many championships that no one remembers it took you four years to lead the Bulls to a winning record and six years for the Bulls to win more than 50 games.
Thank you for helping encourage NBA stars to think of themselves as endorsers and brand names first and players who love the game second.
Thank you for making sure that any player in the 6'4" -6'8" height range will be compared to a legend's highlight film rather than a current head-to-head rival.
Sincerely,
Kobe Bryant, Lebron James, Dwayne Wade, and Carmelo Anthony.
(Written in annoyance the day after Christmas, after hearing one too many NBA commentators use "Such-and-such should" followed by a Michael Jordan reference.)
Monday, July 16, 2007
SuperStar Be: Derek Jeter
I usually write a long, pretentious psychological analysis on each superstar. Because no one reads it and it puts even me to sleep, err, because I don't understand Derek Jeter at all, no such analysis today. (Free Darko was right; picture gathering does take forever!) He is hard to figure out. What do you remember Derek saying that was noteworthy or gave insight into his personality? Do you remember the last in-depth interview with him? I certainly don't. Therefore, I shall only use pictures of Jeter with fans and you can analyze him. I am a little surprised at how many of them there were; I thought it would be hard to find pictures of Derek. I am slightly surprised not to find more pictures of him with male fans rather than just female fans, but females are most likely to post such pictures to brag, anyway. (I should say that I left out most of the MANY pictures of female fans assualting Jeter cutouts and figurines. Scary. Cancel that order for MCBias figurines, pronto! No one's grabbing my plaster posterior!)
I am serious. Run Derek, before it's too late.
RUN!!!
Here's the rare female fan who was NOT grabbing a Jeter cutout.
Derek Jeter and Jessica Biel playing volleyball...and oh, is Derek cowering to avoid a spiked volleyball to the face? This was part of what I was excited about, sadly.
No more comments for now, except for a short open letter. Dear Google-addicted wanna-be girlfriends of Derek Jeter. He's dating the girl in photo #5, err, #8, um, all of them. May I suggest a sports blogger? Sincerely, MCBias.
I am serious. Run Derek, before it's too late.
RUN!!!
Here's the rare female fan who was NOT grabbing a Jeter cutout.
Derek Jeter and Jessica Biel playing volleyball...and oh, is Derek cowering to avoid a spiked volleyball to the face? This was part of what I was excited about, sadly.
No more comments for now, except for a short open letter. Dear Google-addicted wanna-be girlfriends of Derek Jeter. He's dating the girl in photo #5, err, #8, um, all of them. May I suggest a sports blogger? Sincerely, MCBias.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
An Open Letter to Amanda Beard
Unlike some other blogs, Moderately Cerebral Bias is written by only one person. Thus, he must fake multiple personality disorder when he wants another voice on his blog. Today, it's a 14-year-old female swimmer and a male chauvanist writing Amanda Beard, the Olympic swimmer who recently posed for Playboy magazine, with a special MC Postscript.
Dear Amanda,
Hi! I'm really excited for your photoshoot!!! That's great! I'm a swimmer too at my high school, but I am not even CLOSE to being as good as you! And now you're showing the boys that us swimmers are hotties too. You go girl! But I'm a little confused. You did this to show people what an athlete's body looks like, right? I thought your shoot was going to be really cool because of that! No airbrushing or anything. You know, you'd show people what it looks like to be FIERCE and FINE even if you have birthmarks! But, um...your photoshoot skin looks perfect. Where are the scars? Where is the weird tan from the goggles for swimming? It doesn't look like me at all. Oh well. Maybe I'll have perfect skin like that when I get older, and the boys will like me. For now, it's back to the pool. Can you sign my poster from the magazine and return it? Your fan, Michelle Bias.
Dear Future Kitchen Inhabitant Amanda,
I have to admit, you had me concerned. You female athletes and career women were ruining what Hef and thousands of men like him worked so hard for all these years. Women were making noises about "careers" and "taking care of myself" and "don't need men." But Hef didn't get that excellent taste in loungewear by doing nothing, uh-uh. Now, you women realize that "career" is just another step on the long road to becoming a sex object for males. Hef wins again! It's just another clever strategem in the War Between the Sexes. We've just modified the system so now it's "Sex Object and...Athlete" or "Sex Object and...Engineer" instead of just plain old "Sex Object"! Oh, it's cute to think that you're "empowered" by working for Hef, but I ask you, who is your boss? who is your audience? Why it is men, and men again. And if taking naked pictures of yourself is "empowering", why don't you do it for free? Belinda from Accounting still is not falling for my logic on this. Ah, Amanda, it's days like these that makes me happy to be the pig I am. Now, how about a little more skin next time? Perhaps a video?
Signed, Male Pig Bias.
And finally, a word from MC himself:
Dear Amanda. As if it wasn't hard enough already to convince people I liked the WNBA and women's volleyball as sports in their own right, now this. Thanks but no thanks for making sure to perpetuate the bias that women cannot be appreciated in their own right for what they do unless they are hot/sexy too. Cheers, MCBias.
Dear Amanda,
Hi! I'm really excited for your photoshoot!!! That's great! I'm a swimmer too at my high school, but I am not even CLOSE to being as good as you! And now you're showing the boys that us swimmers are hotties too. You go girl! But I'm a little confused. You did this to show people what an athlete's body looks like, right? I thought your shoot was going to be really cool because of that! No airbrushing or anything. You know, you'd show people what it looks like to be FIERCE and FINE even if you have birthmarks! But, um...your photoshoot skin looks perfect. Where are the scars? Where is the weird tan from the goggles for swimming? It doesn't look like me at all. Oh well. Maybe I'll have perfect skin like that when I get older, and the boys will like me. For now, it's back to the pool. Can you sign my poster from the magazine and return it? Your fan, Michelle Bias.
Dear Future Kitchen Inhabitant Amanda,
I have to admit, you had me concerned. You female athletes and career women were ruining what Hef and thousands of men like him worked so hard for all these years. Women were making noises about "careers" and "taking care of myself" and "don't need men." But Hef didn't get that excellent taste in loungewear by doing nothing, uh-uh. Now, you women realize that "career" is just another step on the long road to becoming a sex object for males. Hef wins again! It's just another clever strategem in the War Between the Sexes. We've just modified the system so now it's "Sex Object and...Athlete" or "Sex Object and...Engineer" instead of just plain old "Sex Object"! Oh, it's cute to think that you're "empowered" by working for Hef, but I ask you, who is your boss? who is your audience? Why it is men, and men again. And if taking naked pictures of yourself is "empowering", why don't you do it for free? Belinda from Accounting still is not falling for my logic on this. Ah, Amanda, it's days like these that makes me happy to be the pig I am. Now, how about a little more skin next time? Perhaps a video?
Signed, Male Pig Bias.
And finally, a word from MC himself:
Dear Amanda. As if it wasn't hard enough already to convince people I liked the WNBA and women's volleyball as sports in their own right, now this. Thanks but no thanks for making sure to perpetuate the bias that women cannot be appreciated in their own right for what they do unless they are hot/sexy too. Cheers, MCBias.
Friday, May 25, 2007
An Offering to the Basketball Gods
Dear Basketball Gods,
Although in real life I hold to the tenets of monotheism, tonight I acknowledge you as slightly more than phantasmagorical beings and ask you to have pity on the Cleveland Cavaliers. To remind you of your previous punishment of the oppressed Cleveland peoples, I have enclosed a video clip of the 1993 NBA Playoff series, Game 4. You owe Lebron at least one cheap victory to make up for all the breaks you gave to your previous favorite #23. Signed, MCBias.
Note: I posted this Thursday around 8:05 PM; just making it Friday so that it shows up first on the post list.
Although in real life I hold to the tenets of monotheism, tonight I acknowledge you as slightly more than phantasmagorical beings and ask you to have pity on the Cleveland Cavaliers. To remind you of your previous punishment of the oppressed Cleveland peoples, I have enclosed a video clip of the 1993 NBA Playoff series, Game 4. You owe Lebron at least one cheap victory to make up for all the breaks you gave to your previous favorite #23. Signed, MCBias.
Note: I posted this Thursday around 8:05 PM; just making it Friday so that it shows up first on the post list.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
A Dear John Letter to Females who Love Sports
Dear Females who Love Sports,
It breaks my heart to say this. We've gone through a lot together, ever since those sweaty, happy days of full-contact basketball in middle school gym class. I've stalked, err, seen you at more sporting events than I can count, either playing or happily supporting your team. You have a special place in my heart, right up there with "Females who Share MCBias's Religious and Political Biases" and "Females of an Certain European Ethnicity".
But I believe the time has come for us to part. I don't know when the music (played, of course, by a collegiate marching band) stopped for me.
* Maybe it was the n-th time you hijacked my favorite sports sites with some less than witty innuendo or sloppy avatar of your cleavage that kept the witty commenters panting for pictures of you. Or, even worse, seducing sports blogger X (and Y, and Z) into quoting your less-than-amusing reports and chats on his blog. This stopped them from writing jokes to amuse me, and I had to get back to work sans humor boost.
* Maybe it was when your looks in the audience during the game became more talked about than the game itself. We both know that those looks are to be discreetly monitored by those blessed with excellent peripheral vision, not trumpeted by the announcers. Personally, Erin Andrews and Jenn Sterger were old news a year ago.
* Maybe it was when the ordinary members of your demographic took full advantage of the 10-1 ratio (and I'm being kind) of males to females at sporting events to convince guys that they were extraordinary. I do not come to your movie nights and fake passion for chick flicks, and neither should you come to my sporting event and claim lifelong devotion to the team whose colors match your eyes the best.
* Or maybe it was something like this (click to enlarge):
I have given you more than your share of my waking and thinking moments. (Note: waking does not imply thinking. But you knew that.) But when you mess with my love of sports to force me to pay attention to your ordinary self**, I can no longer adore you. Depart from my favorite sports blogs and events, and trouble them no more! Or, remain, but stop using sports as a means to an end (or my end, or anyone's end) instead of enjoying the game itself. By all means, have sports crushes. I'm not saying check your gender at the door. But please, spare us the public, distracting, desperate ploys for male attention.
Sincerely, MCBias.
**Dear Sue Bird and Lauren Jackson. I meant someone else. Thursday still good?
It breaks my heart to say this. We've gone through a lot together, ever since those sweaty, happy days of full-contact basketball in middle school gym class. I've stalked, err, seen you at more sporting events than I can count, either playing or happily supporting your team. You have a special place in my heart, right up there with "Females who Share MCBias's Religious and Political Biases" and "Females of an Certain European Ethnicity".
But I believe the time has come for us to part. I don't know when the music (played, of course, by a collegiate marching band) stopped for me.
* Maybe it was the n-th time you hijacked my favorite sports sites with some less than witty innuendo or sloppy avatar of your cleavage that kept the witty commenters panting for pictures of you. Or, even worse, seducing sports blogger X (and Y, and Z) into quoting your less-than-amusing reports and chats on his blog. This stopped them from writing jokes to amuse me, and I had to get back to work sans humor boost.
* Maybe it was when your looks in the audience during the game became more talked about than the game itself. We both know that those looks are to be discreetly monitored by those blessed with excellent peripheral vision, not trumpeted by the announcers. Personally, Erin Andrews and Jenn Sterger were old news a year ago.
* Maybe it was when the ordinary members of your demographic took full advantage of the 10-1 ratio (and I'm being kind) of males to females at sporting events to convince guys that they were extraordinary. I do not come to your movie nights and fake passion for chick flicks, and neither should you come to my sporting event and claim lifelong devotion to the team whose colors match your eyes the best.
* Or maybe it was something like this (click to enlarge):
I have given you more than your share of my waking and thinking moments. (Note: waking does not imply thinking. But you knew that.) But when you mess with my love of sports to force me to pay attention to your ordinary self**, I can no longer adore you. Depart from my favorite sports blogs and events, and trouble them no more! Or, remain, but stop using sports as a means to an end (or my end, or anyone's end) instead of enjoying the game itself. By all means, have sports crushes. I'm not saying check your gender at the door. But please, spare us the public, distracting, desperate ploys for male attention.
Sincerely, MCBias.
**Dear Sue Bird and Lauren Jackson. I meant someone else. Thursday still good?
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