I was in your office last week and I overheard this conversation between two co-workers:
“We smoked them last night”
“They did a great job running, but we just couldn’t punch through their defense”
“You’re right; we lost that game because he can’t coach. Next year they need to focus on their back office and not on our franchise guy”
“You played a great game, congrats on the ‘W’!”
Confused? Both of these guys walked away thinking the conversation was transparent. In reality, one guy was talking about his kid’s debate team and the other was talking about an amateur jai alai match played in 1992.
More heart attacks occur on Monday than any other day of the week (We site sources here at skiingingjeans.com). I once flipped through the pamphlet “Diabetes and You,” so I am qualified to tell you that listening to conversations like the one above is the primary reason you will end up in the supine position on a gurney headed to the hospital. Your brain overloads with so many synapses firing to attempt to understand the ill-connected pronouns that your heart implodes. On the way to the hospital, some nineteen-year-old, pre-med EMT trying to become the next Doogie Howser will break your ribs doing chest compressions while slipping you the tongue as he treats you like a Resusci Anne doll. This near death experience is much more enjoyable than listening to Chuck tell you how he threw for 350 yards, went 12-15 from the line, scored an empty net goal, and held Derek Jeter to only one hit over the weekend.
At the hospital, you will probably overhear two doctors having a similar, pronoun filled conversation that you just had with your co-worker. You will fall into another cardiac arrest and the staff will run for the defibrillator. They will yell “Clear!” and bring you back to life like Mark Ruffalo in Just Like Heaven. Please note the medical team doesn’t yell, “You get clear,” “We got clearance,” or “They need to get clear so y’all can blast him.” They just yell “clear.” No pronouns are used and it is crystal clear, right?
Newsflash: You are not on the team.
If “your” team wins the championship and you do not receive a trophy, ring or other item that will later be hawked on eBay when you’re headed for bankruptcy, you are not on the team. Yes, the owner, the players, and the groundskeeper all say, “fans are a part of the team.” That is marketing 101.
Aside from the fact that you are not on the team’s payroll, the logic of claiming any type of ownership is bewildering. Next time you’re at the ballet try to catch yourself saying, “We almost stuck the landing in the third act, but that fall probably cost us the rest of the season.” In both cases, sports and ballet, you are the consumer. You expect to be entertained for the money you pay for a ticket, but don’t expect any fanfare for you when they do well.
No sane person will venture outside to get the newspaper with wind chill levels reaching sixty below zero. However, lunatics, using ice picks to break up frozen beers while losing fingers due to frostbite, will gladly fork over $150 a ticket to watch twenty-two meatheads play catch in an arctic blast.
“Being a Packers fan is in your blood, hereditary even.”
In your blood? Flight or fight is in your blood. Wisdom teeth are in your blood. Brown hair and brown eyes are in your blood. Cheering for a sport created a hundred years ago is not an evolutionary feat. Until hockey players grow gills and live underwater, sports are still a fad in the annals of man.
Save yourself a trip to the hospital for cardiac arrest and keep your fingers intact by avoiding pronoun abuse.