|
Aquarian
Weekly 1/30/02
REALITY CHECK
GREMLINS
IN THE TOY DEPARTMENT
I
am no longer officially counted among the sporting press. It's
been almost a calendar year since my credentials in the sports
world elapsed with the sudden halt of a Westchester radio gig,
and aside from the occasional perusal of sports pages, rabid gambling
on pro football and an impromptu sports trivia fest on New Year's
Eve, I have been woefully out of the loop. So in the interest
of not allowing certain chickens to fly the proverbial coop, I
shall use this week's space to vent the foul odors emanating from
the toy department.
Firstly,
Mike Tyson should be shackled to a spinning platform in the middle
of some designated town square like Hugo's Hunchback. He is a
freak of nature, a grunting slum ogre, whom the citizens of this
nation apparently cannot get enough of; so the money boys keep
parading his pathetic savagery out of moth balls every quarter
for a taste.
Meanwhile,
his raping and pillaging zooms merrily along under the radar.
This is the same radar that saw fit to strip the great Muhammad
Ali of his title for protesting an abomination halfway across
the globe. Military fiascos over women's rights; sounds about
right for the boxing elite.
Boxing
needs Tyson. Otherwise, it is a dead sport. The financial gluttony
of pay-per-farce has rendered its faceless participants to fringe
characters that only insiders and diseased gamblers have any use
for. But Tyson is different. However tired his "angry street punk"
act becomes, people still pay to see the madman implode under
the weight of his own transparent sanity, or perhaps, there is
the hope he might test the limits of an already sadistic exhibition.
|
Mike
Tyson should be shackled to a spinning platform in the middle
of some designated town square like Hugo's Hunchback.
|
Every
time Tyson turns a press conference into a prison riot, he titillates
our darker side. Certainly, it is human nature to coddle a warped
fascination of the villain. Tyson exploits this social malady
quite well. We marvel at his anti-social, violent nature, and
choose to blame it all on the brutality of his profession. All
the while, Tyson serves our primal need for the grotesque, the
sports version of the Elephant Man.
And
it warms my heart to see the "boxing people", the snuff pimps
of sport, become self-righteous every time Tyson explodes, as
evidenced earlier this week at another of their meaningless media
events. Even though they know full well that as long as Tyson
is the fire-breathing dragon to whatever dupe in shining armor
they put in front of him, he will take the lowest road possible.
But
mayhem makes good headlines and highlights, two things the realm
of big-time sports must rely on for readers and ratings and sexy
stories for smart-ass commentators and grizzled scribes to paint
into instant calamity.
This
makes it all the more curious that many of the same sensationalists
who fill the quota of sports journalism do not spend more time
carving up the evil empire known as Major League Baseball.
It
seems defacto, commissioner, Bud Selig, architect of the assassination
of the 1994 baseball season, with its convenient alliances, backroom
payoffs and empty promises, has been at it again.
This
glorified con man wants baseball fans to buy the idea that the
contracting of teams from this miserably bloated league is some
kind of charity solution to the drunken spree of spending that
has gone on under the guise of an atavistic anti-trust exemption
for a quarter century.
Who
is swallowing this incredible sack of horseshit?
The owners expanded a league they claimed was careening toward
bankruptcy time and again for two decades, diluting the talent
and screwing up the competitive nature of a gorgeous game to pay
for their self-inflicted wounds. Now entire franchises are being
shifted around like plastic hotels on a monopoly board, while
cities and politicians and judges and fans clamor and sue and
lobby to save baseball from leaving their respective towns.
As
a result, the 2002 season will begin with lame-duck teams, franchises
with no ownership, glaring conflicts of interest and no concrete
bargaining agreement. Only about six to ten teams have the funds
to compete under the current structure, no one wants to play in
Canada, Disney couldn't turn a fucking profit in Hollywood and
I could swear I heard some sick bastard suggest they put another
team in the District of Columbia.
Finally,
I need to get something straight about the National Football League's
stance on the arbitrary nature of this Instant Replay stuff.
Wasn't
this supposed remove controversy from the game?
CBS
analyst, Phil Simms told me last year that he thought the whole
thing was too ambiguous for its own good, that there are too many
instances where no one understands its parameters; not the coaches,
the fans, the media, or most importantly, the officials.
The
league challenged the officials by ramming technology down their
throats as a glaring second-guess machine, and then placated them
with loopholes to circumvent its authority by coming up with new
and exciting ways to void its use.
Despite
the fact that this abomination saved me cash last week, what happened
to the Oakland Raiders in New England last Saturday night is a
tragic. The officials compromised the entire structure of the
play-off system, and not a soul had a clue why, least of all my
pal, Simms, who was standing in the frozen booth extolling the
victorious Raiders while the anonymous Replay Official was changing
the outcome.
The
truth is the league is buoyed by the gambling culture; although
anyone with any power would be loath to admit it. Hey, the league
was tired of hearing that slow and incompetent officials were
deciding the "integrity" of the game. There are photo finishes
in horse racing, right? Instant Replay was supposed cure all of
that.
Instead
it has ground the game to a halt at key moments, put the already
overwhelmed officials on the hot seat and sucked the life out
of fairness by silly explanations, archaic rule interpretations
and the always popular "inadvertent whistle".
Makes
you wish Vince Lombardi could be standing in the snow to listen
to that dog crap. Now that would be worth the wait.
Reality
Check | Pop Culture | Politics
| Sports | Music
|