(cache) Slang Editorial :: Never Underestimate The Value Of A Holla'

Friday, May 08, 2009
On Manny Being Banny ....Or, FUCK YOU.

"Dam manny ramirez, come on man Agggggggggh, agggggggh,agggggh"

--THE_REAL_SHAQ, about 12 hours ago from TwitterBerry

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Boo, Manny. Boo. You fucking asshole.

The Ken Caminitis and Matt Lawtons of the world sadden me, but at least I can understand--and in some twisted way, emphasize with them; in a tough game, where every tiny bit counts, they just want to keep a footing for themselves in the only world in which they've learned how to live.

But Manny, you of the golden swing, you are a greedy coward. You make me want to scream. You, and Barry Bonds, and Alex Rodriguez, and Roger Clemens--it was never enough that you were among the best in the game. You would not stop until there was no question. Some might admire this thirst to rise above, but I am sickened by it, by you. Barry, Roger, I believe at least that the two of you played many seasons in the 80s and early 90s before getting into steroids--and over these points you won four MVP awards and three Cy Youngs. What the fuck? That was not enough for you?

The worst part, again, is the mass culpability. Our mass culpability. To LeBron James' onslaught and devastation of the NBA, we are all witnesses--and to accepting the lies, thievery, and bullshit of major league cheaters, we are ALL guilty. All of us except the kids of the 90s who were just happy that you jerks had quit your petty squabbling enough to play a fucking World Series again. Those poor kids, who fell in love with Sammy Sosa, or Mark McGwire, or Jeff Bagwell (yeah, said it), Juan Gonzalez, a million others. Brady Anderson, you cheat, you inspired a million kids who wanted someone to root for besides the superstars. And you fucked them. Who's next? Chipper Jones? (god, please... please, no) John Smoltz? Ken Griffey, Jr.?*** Randy Johnson? Pedro?

Really, at this point, it just doesn't matter who did and didn't do steroids. We all did. Bud Selig, who, like a Washington politician ruling lobbyists and yet living in fear of them, did nothing but cast a blind eye as muscles bulked and heads (and pimples) popped. DUDE YOU RUN THE MOST TALKATIVE YET SECRETIVE SPORTS LEAGUE IN THE COUNTRY. OF COURSE YOU KNEW WHAT WAS GOING ON.

What kills me most is the lying triumvirate of atheletes, executives and sports writers, all collectively lying or refusing to believe what they knew was really going on for the sake of their next home run, their next dollar, their next tight lede. Fuck all of you dicks.

And then, fuck all of us for LOVING IT. We loved the longball. We loved 11-7 scores. We loved the 9Ks per 9 ratios. We loved the storylines!! Matt Williams and Griffey in '94, Brady Anderson, the quad-headed Rockies in '96/'97, McGwire and Sosa in '98. We loved it all. The Mariners won 116 games in 2001, even more than the fabled Yankees in '98, but does anyone seem to remember it? Partially because they didn't win the World Series but also partially because it was the first season in ten years without Randy J, Griffey, or ARod. No pumped up stars--other than new freak of Japan, Ichiro--and therefore few memories. We loved it all despite seeing thin men big, big men huge, and even some thin men huge. We saw what we wanted to believe.

The world, honestly, is not filled with surprises. Things happen by chance, yes, but most of that chance has a percentage of possibility attached to it based on the cold principles of natural reality. David Eckstein does not, as a rule, hit 30 home runs in a season. He just can't, because he is who he is. We knew this was true about Brady Anderson too, but we turned away. Also, old people, as a rule, do not outplay the post-kid vets. And yet there was Barry Bonds at age 36 hitting 73 HRs, 24 more than he'd ever hit before. And middling no-pop vets do not suddenly become middle-of-the-order threats after they turn 30. 90 years of baseball told us that this was true and yet there was Jay Bell, Steve Finley, and Luis Gonzalez, telling us otherwise.

So fuck it. We saw what we wanted to believe. C'est la fucking vie. Because this is America. WE LIKE CHEATERS. We actually LOVE THEM. Or rather, we like cheaters who succeed in cheating. What we do not like are cheaters who fail, cheaters for whom the game is up. We loved the cheaters on Wall Street and in the real estate markets in the late 90s and early 00s when they were making dollars because we loved their fly action and dreamt of having some of our own someday too. Those systems didn't collapse because some great diligence and intolerance of cheating finally brought down the bad guys; they just collapsed because the cheaters stopped cheating well. And then when it collapsed, we swarmed upon the cheaters like locusts, in hopes that a swifter move on our own behalf condemning their wrongs might save us from the real judgements of god soon to come. Our own guilt pulsed like a great heart beating louder and louder as the head-filling sound of crime began to subside; and lest we hear it too deeply and freeze in our tracks, we acted, pouncing on the public record of guilt to rape it loudly enough until we were satisfied that it was distracting enough for us to go on ignoring everything else that was still wrong, that is still wrong.

This is NOT a tale of bleakness and woe. It's just an observation on who we are and who we are afraid to be. The steroids story is so much the same story as the housing market story that it floors me. As Americans, our hunger for more, bigger, and better--which brings us both good and terrible achievement--is such that we blind ourselves from seeing not just that which is immediately in front of us, but everything that lies ahead.

This is how we as Americans live, and I don't know if there's anything we can or should do it about it. But understand that the toll is heavy, and that one day, as a nation, we will pay the price. The day will come when our blindness finally becomes so overpowering that we will not be able to see that we have walked into a room of hungry bandits, and we are not only too frail to hold them off from plundering our resources, but too blind to even know that we need to. And then, new powers will be born, and we sink to the bottom (quickly or slowly) while they rise above.

Or something like that.

NOTES/LOVAGE:
*** - Literally the only home run hitter I'm sure never took steroids is Fred McGriff, my beloved Crime Dog, who it seemed had the tragedy (or perhaps, in hindsight, good fortune) of peaking right before the "development of the extended power game" in baseball. Fred who in 1989 and 1992 led his league in HRs with 36 and 35 over the fence. When was the last time someone led either league with no more than 35 HR? Yep. I stand by you, Fred, forever and always, and I will never forget the Blue Jays, your torrential Summer '93, the Summer '94 that was taken from you, or you holding our Braves down in '95 when they finally put it all together for the Series. And most of all, I will never forget having the opportunity to see you hit that final home run for Tampa Bay in San Diego in June 2004. You will always be my classy, understated hero.

Labels: basketball, deprarious, empty promises, FAIL, fucktactics, thoughts

posted by Nihilist Loves Hate, Hates Everything at 5/08/2009 12:41:00 AM 0 comments

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