Why sports makes me sad now

 The Eagles are 2-0. The Phillies are likely going to the playoffs. The Sixers have the reigning MVP. I have just enough time and scratch to see the games that I really want to see.

So why am I not writing about sports, liking them quite so much, and just dealing with The Sad far too much?

Listicle!

1) Fantasy sports. Let's face it, folks: these have ruined sports irrevocably, and that comes from someone who has played them since you kept stats with a pen and paper and mailed standings to people. But like the dismissed hot water in a pot, a slow degradation is still a degradation. So much coverage of games isn't about game, but numbers -- and, well, bored with it. No one cares about your fantasy team but you, and if your team isn't great, it's just a reason for sad. A reason you can't stop caring about, but really, probably, should, and the main reason for the second item on our list.

2) No one has any patience or faith. The Eagles have gotten very lucky with turnovers, haven't shown good play calling, and are clearly not on the level that they were last year. And at this time last year (because the Minnesota game last year was on a Monday), they weren't either.

The NFL season is too long and too important, and injuries matter more than nearly any other factor. Philly finished their week 2 game with street meat in the secondary against the best WR in the league, but since QB Jalen Hurts is beloved for reasons and not looking like the guy who played the position last year, we're going to pule until we get what we want, as if puling ever, really... gets you what you want. Tiresome. The people gripping about the team this year seem like they are more gripping about their QB1 and WR1 (Hurts and Brown) not playing up to statistical expectations. Beyond tiresome. 

3) The Sixers. The end of the last Sixers season didn't just, as usual, make me want to not watch any more of the Sixers. It also made me not want to watch any more of the NBA.

This is a league that's impossible to officiate, where the game looks like statistical analysis of three pointers or dunks has made every other shot obsolete, and superstars routinely game the system to be de facto GMs. It's also one where Boston is better then Philadelphia, and almost always has been, and the team is trying to destroy a neighborhood to build a new and unnecessary arena in a minority residential area, further worsening affordable housing. It's also one that is being held hostage -- again -- by a star player who can't show up in the playoffs and does not want to play for the team. Oh, and they are also owned by people who have became incredibly more wealthy from their relatively incompetent ownership of the team. 

Who needs more of this in their lives?

4) Rich people. The older I get, the more I'm convinced that (a) I'm never going to have financial comfort or independence, (b) no one is every going to care about that but me, and (c) rich people really need to be reminded that guillotines exist and should be paramount in their minds, especially if they don't pay their goddamn taxes like, well, all of us in camps A and B. Every owner of a team is a rich person, the vast majority of which come from legacies of wealth, and a legacy of wealth also means your ancestors probably did many people wrong and let you grow up in a world where that kind of thing isn't just expected, but encouraged.

So. I'm spending my time and money watching and writing about the activities of rich and unsympathetic people distracting us all from the very real things that we need to do to prevent the mass deaths of most of the world's population from climate change. And with football, there's also brain trauma and death, while you watch what the comic actor and former NFL player Terry Crews call "prison with money." Go team.

5) The unsympathetic people aren't just the owners. Players often inflict not just politics, but politics based on thougtlessness, narcissicism and grievance on the public and remind me that the freedom to speak one's mind doesn't mean you, well, have one. And I suppose better out than in and it's good to know who the idiots are, but the temptation to join the Shut Up and Play crowd, all while really not wanting to join the Shut Up and Play crowd... who are also, well, terrible.

Want to feel kinship with the fan base? Don't listen to sports radio, read the comments, or go to games, because you'll likely be subject to their terrible opinions. You might also have ones of your own, of course.

I know, I know, I'm just being a crank and letting personal issues that have me on tilt from other areas of my life ruin this... but if you had your life to live again and knew all that you knew now, would you choose to be a sports fan? It takes a lot of time, costs a lot of money, and doesn't really give you great bang for your buck. My adult children aren't fans, and I don't care or feel like this has held them back. 

So if you wouldn't choose to do it again, why choose to do it now? Because inertia, because structure, because the absence of them wouldn't actually make my life better, or get anyone to take climate change or taxation of the obscenely wealthy more seriously or effectively. 

I'm complicit. So are you.

Yay, team!

Not Sports: Speech at my mother's surprise birthday party

Good evening. I’m Dave, Joyce’s youngest child, and I’m going to do one of my favorite things – talk about my mother. For about 10 minutes. First off, let me congratulate you for being here tonight. My mother does not suffer fools. She may work for them, serve them drinks, deal with them in customer service, and parent them on occasion… but suffer them? No. So, good on you for making it into the room. It’s no small accomplishment.

Look around. No one, except Mom, knows everyone else. That is a testament to just how remarkable, fluid, and *useful* she is. This is a person who has never stopped growing or adding value as a friend, parent, sibling, coworker or neighbor. There is always something more to do, a way to be better, think differently, consider something new. This is what we all get for knowing Joyce. The knowledge that more is possible, more is desirable, and you deserve it. Because you know her, and because you can be like her.

Every child thinks their mom is special, but I have proof. Every time I had a serious relationship that ended… the woman who was leaving asked about my mom. Some still do – decades later. I may or may not have been a good boyfriend, fiancé, or husband… but man alive, did they ever want to keep the mom. That’s because everyone wants more of her in their life. Who among us can say the same?

Why is my mother this way? I have theories. First, that she took exactly what she needed from her parents. Can you tell a story, never settle, and be completely comfortable in your own skin? That’s her father. Can you listen, put your own needs on hold, and make the ones you love know that you care and are rooting for them? That’s her mother. Can you keep moving forward and avoid apologies, complaints, or excuses while keeping what’s really important in focus? That’s my mom. And my role model.

Being a role model can take many forms. One of the more infamous stories of my childhood is sharing a bed with my brother as a small child, and wetting the bed… right into his ear. Which led my brother to, quite understandably, to react with profanity unbecoming of a 12-year-old,  leading my mother to investigate… and then fall down laughing when she got the story.  Now, think about what she *could* have done. She could have punished my brother, or me, or both of us. She could have taken it out on the entire family for costing her sleep at a time when she probably wasn’t getting any. She could have been consumed with worry about either of us and escalated it.  None of that worked as well as laughter. She made a great choice. She usually does.

Something else you should know about my mom – she lets me get away with a lot, including making everything about her right now, because I’m the youngest. And when I was a little kid, we lived in the suburbs with a backyard, which meant we had a place where pets could happen. Whether the pets were random dogs from my grandfather’s job sites, turtles repatriated from the woods, a sado-masochistic rabbit – there were pets. Also, for a summer, a duck that thought it was a rooster. If you want to know how all of these things found themselves in a rented backyard, ask Joyce. 

Here’s the point: all of the pets were healthy and well fed. In a house with three kids, with a garden. We had clean dishes without a dishwasher, meals without a microwave, with school lunches packed and laundry done, all from a single parent that worked until the bars closed and beyond. If you are wondering how that happened… you aren’t alone. It happened because she made it happen.

Do a small thought exercise for me. Imagine that every part of you – your physical realities and mental abilities, where you fell in the demographic and gender spectrum, what parts of you work the way they should or how you want them to, etc. – was something you had to pay for in a yearly subscription. How much would you pay to keep what you have? How much would you pay to get an upgrade? 

The reason I ask: we are all of us, every one of us who is above the ground, privileged. We live lives with the comforts of kings, with astounding technology in our literal pockets. We live so much longer than we used to.  We don’t appreciate it. We are all, actually, privileged. Especially everyone here tonight, because we all know my mom. The best of us share the fruits of our privilege. My mother shares her remarkable work ethic, her standards of living, her attention to detail. She doesn’t make you feel like you owe her, because it’s not about her sacrifice. It’s about her refusal to live without excellence, and her insistence on sharing and providing..

What else did she share and provide? Vacations. Cars. Sports equipment. Books. Fine meals, at home and out. Cable television and home computers and stereo systems and concert tickets and… seriously, Mom, how?

What she has shared didn’t *always* work out. There was the drive back to school in a rented car that we thought would be safer to drive in bad conditions. Nope. Mom and I spun about three full rotations on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, each of us telling the other that it was going to be fine just fine until we finally came to rest on the guardrail, miraculously without serious damage to our car or anyone else… and then just drove the rest of the way. Hours more, in the same storm and black ice. Because, well, we had to.

My mom does what she has to do, and the only person in the world who can tell her what she has to do is… her. You can convince her of a lot in this world, and she has a remarkably open mind, but once a decision is made and there is work to be done, work will be done. And if there is a task that has to be done, and my mother is involved, it gets done. If there’s Joyce, a task, and a wall, it’s a really bad day to be the wall.

About college – my mom didn’t make me go. What she made me do was listen to her when she told me that she didn’t care what I did for a living, so long as I loved it. I loved writing about sports, money be damned. Mom supported that every step of the way, buying groceries and providing transportation, excusing my absences during summers and holidays while I focused on the task, and supporting me as I mailed hundreds of letters, begging for a sports writing job, during a recession. When that failed and I had loans to pay, Mom didn’t make me feel bad about my “wasted” degrees. So, I worked as a temp and made music, and discovered that I loved making music more than writing about sports. Mom showed up at more of those gigs than some of my band mates. Never a word about wasting my life, talents, etc. Same thing through a number of jobs at startups. Never a moment of judgment. Never a word about how I should have gotten a business degree instead or gone back for my masters. 

In short, my mother trusts her children to do what’s right for their own lives. She raised grownups. God bless her. There aren’t enough of us around.

One more story. Over 15 years ago, some of her co-workers asked her to join a fantasy football league. Mom had never done any nerd betting before – she focused on the real stuff, which is to say picking teams against the spread – but she went along with them. Then gave me a call to be her co-owner. We crushed the league, so much so that when we got to the championship game, the guy we were playing against asked for a chop before the game. It wasn’t my money, so not my call – but Mom? Flat no. Couldn’t have been prouder. (And yeah, our guys got hurt and we lost. It happens.) Mom pursues excellence. She does not settle for less. Takes her shot, doesn’t whine if it doesn’t go her way. Grown up. Mom later joined my fantasy football league and has her own team. She’s also won it. I haven’t. I tell that to people all the time, because why not brag about my mom?

So, in summation, please join me in raising a glass to one of the best people that any of us will ever know on this, a round number. There will be many, many more, because the world does not want less of her, and she does not want less of it. If, for no other reason, than to keep kicking my ass in fantasy football. 

To Joyce!

Hospice Baseball

Not a well attended hospice for reasons

 

So, some words about the Oakland A's, how badly MLB has screwed the pooch, and why anyone who is making light of this is a terrible human being who I hope gets the kind of cancer that makes other people point at them and laugh while they die. Because that's kind of what's happening here.

Sports in this country has always been a terrible bargain foisted on people before they were old enough to know better, and if you'd like to draw a corollary between that and religion, I won't stop you. Nearly every new stadium project has been a case of clear theft, and every team that decided to throw games through "load management" or tanking for draft position -- including several that I root for! -- have engaged in grift. T'was ever thus, and if you don't want to pay grifters from time to time, you can't watch sports, now or likely ever. Perhaps in a future where there is promotion and relegation, massive reforms, retributive taxation on the generational wealth that was created by past theft, and so on, you might get there. But you won't.

Or, shorter, we'e all marks, have always been marks, will always be marks. But there are limits.

And that's how we get to the Oakland A's, a baseball team that exists only because MLB requires each franchise to play games, rather than just forfeit them. They are on course to have one of the worst records in modern history, are owned by an owner that has more or less defined moral hazard in our time, and employ only the cheapest players they can find. If any of these players are seen as useful to any other team, they are sent to them straightaway, especially if they might be in the major leagues long enough to earn more than a union-mandated minimum salary. Their stadium is in disrepair because LOL that might cost money, and they will remain this way until they move to some other location.

Some people, somehow, seem to think it's all well and good to blame the city of Oakland for this. They should have engaged in the grift more, you see. They didn't play ball with the current grifter who owns the team. Their fan base is too small, despite the fact that they went to the stadium in disrepair in large numbers when the team was seeming to make an effort to win games.

This is, of course, exactly what happened to Miami not too long ago, and Montreal not very long before that, because (drum roll) it works. If you own a major league team in any sport and aren't going to make an ungodly amount of money when you sell the team to the next mafiaso, you are a freaking unicorn of stupid, but that's besides the point.

So, to the media and fans of other teams who are looking forward to the A's being in a desert city with not enough water in a time of devastating climate change? Third finger, raised, while leaving. Oakland's fans aren't going to become San Francisco Giants fans, despite a lovely stadium existing just 15 traffic-choked miles away, because they no longer see MLB as a manageable grift, but a fatal one. And if you don't think that your local oliogarch would do you like this... well, maybe, though honestly there aren't more than a half dozen owners in all of sports that I would trust to do that, especially when there's money to be made. 

But how about their idiot children, or the next mafiaso?

Oakland's hospice could be your own. Choose your actions accordingly.

Seventy Grifters

 So... today's, um, basketball "game."

If you've been conned by a grifter once, that's on the grifter.

If it happens twice, that's maybe on you.

Three times?

You have to start to wonder if you *like* to be taken advantage of.

(By the way, this counts even if Boston goes on to win the championship. You tell me if they do; I'm done with the NBA for awhile. If my playoffs are watching Al Freaking Horford, Jimmy Butler after he got away, Jokic breaking through after he finally didn't win an MVP, and LeBron and the Laker fans for the 9 millionth time... I get it. Lakers-Celtics forever and it's Bill Simmons' world and we're just the idiots stepping on rakes.)

Blow this team up. Fire the coach. Toss the GM. Sell the team to owners that didn't hire all of these people. Play the young guys and lose 60+ games, it's better than this. Hell, move the team to Camden or Seattle for all I care right now.

I have too little time on this planet left to be grifted, over and over, by people who seem to care less about the games than I do. A lot less.

Don't go to their games anymore. Don't watch them on television. Don't give them an arena (dear God in heaven, don't do that). They are bad people, bad faith actors, and they've more or less made me stop liking the NBA. I feel stupid for watching today, and the only saving grace is I stopped watching sooner than usual.

Burn it down, or don't. Find another mark, you asshats. I'm out.

Overdue thoughts on the Sixers

Take it down, gentlemen

I haven't posted about sports for a while because money and time and the local sports teams have been doing well without me, but I had a night off and I'm catching up on some things. Here's some thoughts on the Sixers run so far.

> I don't know how to watch a Sixers playoff run when Doc Rivers is the best coach. Brooklyn was clearly overmatched, but Boston has 2 of the 3 best players on the floor, home court advantage and a far more athletic bench. They've turned all of that into a do-or-die road game tonight, mostly because their rookie coach couldn't call a timeout and draw up a play in the last seconds of overtime on Game 4. 

> I try not to get into Mo Men Tum and mental gyrations around What It All Means, but if you want to tell the narrative that Boston's guys are Cancun bound, I can't say you are wrong. They are also a .500 team at home in the playoffs, which is an amazing thing to say about a team that less than a week ago was the odds-on favorite to win the Championship.

> Game Five was pure porn for Sixer fans. Tyrese Maxey, the most adorable young player for this team in decades, broke out of a near series-long funk. Tobias Harris had the quinessential Tobias Harris game, where he sabotaged what should have been a big statistical breakout with foul trouble. Joel Embiid had a signature chasedown block, Danuel House came off the bench to provide transition buckets and athletic defense, and James Harden gave them what they needed when they needed it. Even the maddeningly slow half court offense and walk it up sets worked out. PJ Tucker is on the team to dispense Effective Angry Old Man Energy and hustle plays. They have the best won-loss record of any team in the playoffs. If they just get this one. they'll have home court for the rest of the year.

Now, they just have to do it again, at home, in front of a fan base that has seen them come up small in this moment so many times that we're all struggling to believe that this time is the time. I almost didn't want to post, for fear that my silence is the jinx. I haven't wanted to watch Heat-Knicks because it feels like Looking Ahead when they've still achieved, well, nothing. 

But they've been the much better team in 7 out of the last 8 quarters, and that's a lot of data. Every game he's played, Embiid has been better. Everyone just played a great game. They're at home. Al Horford suddenly turned into his actual age in the last game. There's only so many times Marcus Smart can grift a ref. Their coach went to Payton Pritchard for an offensive spark in Game 5, as if that was going to work. Their stars keep taking quarters off. They don't seem into it.

Go Sixers.

So, this happened: my first royal flush in a live poker game

That's my K-Q suited pairing up so nicely with the board.

It also made me $420, because we've got a side pot set up to reward such things, and it hadn't paid off for over 16 months.

(Details of hand: I raised pre-flop, a small stack went all in, I called for not much more, and everyone at the table didn't see it was a Royal for a few seconds, because once the 4 hit, I had the hand won.)

It's a weird feeling to hit a hand like this in the middle of a tournament, and then just have the, you know, next hand happen because of course that's what happens. Life, and poker, is in progress, and while we stopped for a minute or two to take pictures and say Woo Hoo, there's really nothing more to be said. It happened. Next hand. 

Take your big win and your life achievement unlocked and be on your way..

A small but pointed question in re Ja Morant

For those of you who do not follow pro basketball... Ja Morant is the young star point guard for the Memphis Grizzlies. He's one of the 20 to 30 best basketball players on the planet (maybe), and fun as hell to watch due to astounding athleticism. 

He's also on personal leave in the aftermath of a leaked video from a strip club where he's seen handling a not terribly large gun. He might not play basketball again this year because of this, and seems to have accepted the idea that he needs therapy, and new ways to spend his time outside of sports. I suspect he's going to lose some endorsements, and Memphis, which had significant playoff hopes this year, may go down without their best player while this all gets sorted out.

Now, I don't particularly have an issue with this, though the unseemliness of media on What It All Means is a bit much. Long-time readers of the blog know my issues of Game and Not Game, as well as an earned suspicion of what Big Mouse sells as content. (Basically, it's got more than a little in common, in terms of reasons to doubt veracity, with Rupert Murdoch-owned properties. Moving on.)

But I do have one very large question...

Why isn't the NRA, and all of the other pro-2nd Amendment absolutists, telling everyone to leave Morant alone? Where are the protestors demanding to know why Morant doesn't have the right to constitutionally carry whatever makes him happy? 

Look at that photo on the right again. He's clearly happy.

(crickets)

Why, it's almost as if the 2nd Amendment is only a good and noble right that must be protected above and beyond all measures of sanity and common sense if the carrier of the weapon is... is... is...

Dammit, I forgot what Morant is. 

Besides a basketball player.

(crickets)

Justin Verlander? Aaron Rodgers? 

Mind taking a Colt 45 into a honkey tonk bar and giving us a data point or two?

Super Bowl: Game Notes

 > The NFL decided that the field at the Super Bowl should be painted and slippery as possible. Good move.

> First drive, like every other first drive in this playoff year. QB Jalen Hurts looking better than any other point, and WR Devonta Smith owning. I have no idea how you play defense against this team. It's wonderful.

> Kansas City's offense goes the length of the field, and QB Patrick Mahomes wasn't bothered during any of it. If you want to go back to trashing Jonathan Gannon and thinking the Eagle defense can't stop good QBs, yeah. Sheesh. Oh, and his ankle looks fine. Rut roh.

> A 10-yard penalty on a smoke screen, then a meh rushing play, weak sauce short pass and not enough pass protection. 3 and out against Mahomes is not advised.

> All day for Mahomes, TE Travis Kelce just absurdly open. KC fails on third and short, leading to K Harrison Butker smashing it off the upright from 42 yards. I'll take any stop I can get against this offense.

> Hurts hits WR AJ Brown for an absolute you aren't as good as us play, and it's Eagles 14, Chiefs 7. Wow.

> A three and out as CB James Bradberry cashes in his All-Pro card to get a call. PR Britain Covey isn't as fast as he thinks he is, so.

> Hurts thwarts a 3rd and 8 blitz and converts to WR Zach Pascal. Huge play, great play.

> So far, RB Kenneth Gainwell looks a lot better than nominal RB1 Miles Sanders.

> Eagles self-destruct on the sneak play with an Issac Seumalo, then Hurts fumbles on a bad keep idea for a return touchdown. That's the kind of mistakes that you just can't make against a good team in the playoffs. F***. Tie game.

> On 4th and 5, draw by Hurts, keeps his feet, huge play. Even bigger, drawing an offsides on 4th and 2. Just your standard 75-yard right down your throat drive after the mistake. Eagle Fan chants MVP. 21-14 Green.

> Mahomes can't convert on a scramble and aggravates the ankle injury. Covey with a big return and this game is in a lot of flux. Eagles with timeouts, field position, and the chance to make it a 2-score game.

> Deep ball to Smith, replays, fantastic effort... and ruled a drop after enough time to start a million conspiracy theories. Should not have been changed.

> Hurts runs throw traffic to convert yet another sneak, this one with more damage. Another great play by Brown gets them close, but Gainwell is tackled in bounds to burn the last timeout. K Jake Elliot converts, and it's 24-14 Green, with 22 minutes of time of possession. Eagle Fan has a lot more to like than Chief Fan so far, but we're a long way from done.

> 5-minute knife through butter drive for Kansas City, and if Butker had hit the field goal, this game would be tied despite all of that time of possession. GAHHH.

> Terrible smoke screen, fumble, touchdown. If that isn't overturned, it's the second awful replay call of the game for the Chiefs, and a complete disaster. Overturned. Phew. Huge conversion on 3rd and 6 to TE Dallas Goedert. WR Quez Watkins doesn't pull in a great deep ball. It leads to a delay of game, then on 3rd and 14, it's a sideline ball to Goedert and another moment of where snapping the ball before the other team can challenge is completely subverted. Loving the refs in this game so, so much. It's fun when you don't have to challenge plays; it lets Andy Reid be a much better coach. Ruling stands, improbably.

> A ton of long clock by the Eagles offense in this game; suspect it wasn't all intentional. The drive stalls, Elliot converts, and it's 27-21. Drama. Goddamned drama. This much time of possession, you'd think the running game would have been more effective by now...

> Third quarter ends with easy running plays for the Chiefs to move the ball into Eagles territory. Not loving the defense at all today; no sacks, no turnovers, not nearly enough disruptive plays. Might need some to close the deal... but, um, nope. Reid totally schools Gannon, Chiefs take their first lead of the game, 28-27. Arizona might want to rethink that job offer; just inexcusable that a defense with this much fresh bodies and talent just never makes the offense uncomfortable.

> A 3 and out, a bad punt by P Arron Siposs, a huge return by Chiefs WR Kadarius Toney, and this game is going away with a quickness. Full blitz, walk in touchdown to an uncovered receiver. Gannon is completely exposed; 3 straight effortless touchdowns. Butker converts. Chiefs 35, Eagles 27, and unless Hurts wants to do everything and then play defense, this one's over.

> 46-yard pass to Smith, sneak, then Hurts smashes his way in for a 2-point conversion. Good lord, what a player. Now if he could only play defense. 35-all.

> Mahomes with the ankle sprints for a huge play. Sure. Why not. I feel like my laundry's best chance is to allow the touchdown quickly, have Kansas City kick the extra point, and expect Hurts to lead the team to another touchdown and 2-point conversion. Hard to win a game without a defense, folks.

> 5-yard marginal flag on 3rd and 9 ends the season. I have no idea why I watch football. Eagle defense tries to give up, but Jerrick MacKinnon is too smart for it, so the game is over. The most talented Eagle team in history loses on refs, defensive coordinator incompetence, and if you wonder why you bother to watch football, I don't blame you at all. Good night.

> Game ends on a pointless incompletion, and that's that. Moving on.

Super Bowl: Not Game Notes

 > "Lift Every Voice And Sing" is a dramatically better national anthem. Just switch it.

> Watching Dak Prescott get booed while accepting the Walter Payton Man of the Year charity award? High comedy. I love Eagle Fan, who has clearly turned this into an Eagles home game.

> I also enjoyed Fox cutting to Prescott looking like a hamster in a headlight during Sheryl Lee Ralph singing. Good look, Dak.

> Massive booing of the Chiefs. Muted stupid racist chant.

> Why Fox needed DJ Khaled to do some weird stripper hype intro, we'll never know. America! Love it or be puzzled by it!

> I missed the memo on why we needed three different songs about the country before playing a football game... but once more, Ammerica! Love it or be puzzled by it!

> Eagles head coach Nick Siriani, just weeping like a faucet. Win the game and we'll think that's fine, Nick. Otherwise... SUSPECT.

> Women fly military jets, too! Yay, woke military industrial complex!

> Menopause ads. DAMN WOKE AMURIKA.

> Harold Carmichael, flapping his arms. Yes, it's a home game.

> Eating avocados makes you naked. Don't eat avocados.

> E-Trade wants babies to be promiscuous. That sound you just heard was QAnon rising as one.

> Remy Martin requires me to listen to a weird motivational speech before drinking it. OK.

> Paramount spent 30 seconds on Sylvester Stallone sneezing. Good use of resources.

> I am out of touch. But Rihanna looks like a chaos muppet in that outfit.

> Michelob Ultra wants everyone to remember "Caddyshack." Why?

> Fine concert. Too many people will just remember it for whether or not the black female singer is pregnant. You can see what this says about our priorities.

> Electrified Jeeps cause animals to adopt human dance. This is why you should buy one.

> The biggest and wealthiest scumbags in the world were at the game, and Fox decided we needed to see them. Great.

> I like Pop Corners. I like Breaking Bad. Not sure why this needed mixing. Whatever.

> If I buy an electric truck, my penis won't work. OK.

> People who care about dogs should be eaten by wolves, because beer.

Grease the poles: The Eagles are going to the Super Bowl

 So I haven't been filling the sports blog very often for personal reasons, but I have been watching every minute of 2022-2023 Eagles football, obviously. Observations!

> I don't know how to handle a football team that consistently delivers blowouts in playoff games. I'm not sure that anyone does. Usually when you get to this stage, you get a close game. Not so much this team. 

> The Eagles have 88 rushing attempts in two playoff games. Porn, people, porn. And in the last two games, why they won't re-sign Miles Sanders, despite him being a very good football player, because Kenneth Gainwell will give them 80% of Miles for 20% of the cost.

> Both games were over in the first half. Most of their wins this year have been like that. Again, just not used to rooting for teams that do this.

> Usually when a football team signs a free agent, it's disappointing. Careers are short, players often are washed when they get to later contracts, and adjusting to new systems often drains the value out of a player. And then there's Hassan Reddick, who is having a pass rushing year that hasn't been seen in this laundry since the days of Peak Reggie White, and you forget all of that.

> When a team just boat races other teams, it has a way of just diminishing the opponent and making things seem easy. You could tell a narrative that this Niners roster was a paper tiger, with the winning streak coming against a lot of ordinary opponents, and that the NFC Championship Game might have been different had Niner QB Brock Purdy not gotten hurt. Which diminishes the defense that, well, injured him with intense pressure. You could also tell a narrative that the Giants were nice enough but frauds, and only got to the second round because the Vikings were also frauds.

But, well, you can only beat the teams you play. The Eagles are 15-1 this year in games started by their QB, and the only game with him where they lost was a fluke turnover fest. They won the division with the best record in football this year. 

This isn't a good team in a bad league. This is a dominant team in a great league. And if they can do it one more time, you can put them in a short list for Best Team Ever, Single Season Edition.

> The Super Bowl will be a home game for the Eagles in Arizona. Eagle Nation travels, has more money than Chiefs Fan, and will genuinely terrify the good people of Arizona. Pray for them.

> This will be the deepest Eagle team you ever see, because the QB is an MVP candidate playing on a second round pick contract. Hurts is going to get paid, and there's likely a half dozen starters that won't be here next September. They get a high pick, keep the wideouts, and have the best GM in the game. But it's kind of amazing, and a little poignant, that a team that should be favored to win the Super Bowl by a touchdown is probably already on the downside, and that's without even taking into account the way the league will pillage this coaching staff.

> Having watched Jalen Hurts for the entire year, he's not close to his real self right now. It also hasn't even come close to mattering. And if the offensive and defensive lines do what they did in the last two games, it won't matter then, either. Or do a whole lot to limit his next contract, because when your QB is an MVP candidate, under 24, and has the best work ethic in club history, you sign him. For whatever.

Grease the poles!