Unless you are a Vikings fan or Brett Favre’s wife, who cares that Favre signed with Minnesota?
It’s been over a decade since we have seen the younger, more agile Favre lifting the Lombardi Trophy above his head.
I get it. The man has grit. He has charisma. Guess what? He also has gray hair, a beat-up arm and pretty soon, an AARP card.
I understand he won three Most Valuable Player awards and holds numerous records, including the most consecutive starts by a quarterback in the NFL, but he was not even the greatest quarterback of his generation. Favre’s best years were during the previous Democratic administration, and that was 12 years ago.
“Take me out to the ball game, take me out with the crowd.”
Most people do not have a problem following Jack Norworth’s famous first two lines, but it’s when they’re finally with the crowd, that the trouble ensues. They lack proper ballgame etiquette. It is precisely this lack of etiquette that has prompted this column.
This is a most exciting time in the world of sports as another baseball season is underway, we witnessed the coronation of the 2009 NCAA men’s basketball champion last night and Tiger faces the possibility of his fifth green jacket this weekend. However, for some, these events fly under the radar and are overshadowed by “The Grandaddy of ‘Em All,” WrestleMania!
No, I am serious. According to Nielsen Media Research, 15 million viewers tune into the World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE) weekly television broadcasts. It is routinely cable television’s highest rated programming of the week.
This past Sunday night was equivalent to the Super Bowl or World Series for professional wrestling: WrestleMania XXV.
We are beginning to see them at every sporting event. They are the worst. Unfortunately, they are becoming the rule, not the exception. Next time the cameraman turns for a shot of the crowd, take a close look and you will see them. They are everywhere, usually in business casual attire, checking email on their blackberry while the rest of the crowd holds its collective breath until the final seconds wind off the clock.
In the wake of his 799th career victory on Saturday, Feb. 21, 2009, University of Connecticut head coach Jim Calhoun entered the post-game press conference. However, the topic of conversation was not the top-ranked Huskies’ 64-50 win over South Florida, or the coach’s fast-approaching milestone. Freelance journalist and political activist Ken Krayeske asked Calhoun about his $1.6 million salary in light of the state’s billion-dollar budget deficit. Republican Gov. Mary Jodi Rell has asked all state-employee unions for concessions and givebacks.
“Not a dime back,’’ Calhoun barked at Krayeske, regarding his salary.
It was perhaps the most memorable dunk contest of all time. The high-flying acrobatics of the two finalists set the stage for future generations. Michael Jordan and Dominique Wilkins each entered the final round of the 1988 contest with one dunk title already under their belts.
“Nique” had just brought the crowd to its feet with his final dunk of the night, a two-handed windmill slam from the right side of the basket, but the judges only awarded him a cumulative 45 points out of 50. Jordan would at least have an opportunity to defend his thrown as the incumbent dunk champion, in front of a raucous hometown crowd at the United Center.
This is embarrassing. I don’t quite know how to say this … I am a Yankees fan. Correction: I was a Yankee fan. I had been for quite some time. But, it is time to hang ‘em up. It is time to call it quits. Brett Favre, be damned, I am retiring from my endless pinstripe passion. Up until now, I have been waging an internal war concerning the stance I should take towards the boys from the Bronx. Last week proved to be the final straw.