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Archive for April, 2009

And calling them “boundary dancers” does not make it better.  At all.

There are other, real, issues with the Indian Premier League, and they have all been debated at length by people who actually know lots of things about cricket.  I know some things about cricket, but not nearly as much as Jonathan Agnew.

I do know that cricket should never, ever have cheerleaders.  Indeed, I am fairly certain that no sports should have cheerleaders, but long custom has made me numb to them in American football.

Cheerleaders are stupid.  They do not lead cheers.  I think I have actually never been in a situation where the crowd joins in when the cheerleaders begin to cheer–and I have often been in the opposite situation.  This is because the cheers that cheerleaders lead (supposedly) are carefully designed to be awkward and asinine and have idiotic hand motions.  The crowd and band (should there be one) are perfectly capable of starting their own, rhythmic, reasonable cheers.

Cheerleading is also not a sport.  I don’t care that they go to competitions.  If they want to do that, they can dance.  Actually dance.  Not climb into pyramids and drop each other.  Not stand emptily on the sidelines in a short skirt, failing to understand what’s happening in the game.

If we’re going to have cheerleaders, I would like the pathetic men who really enjoy them to admit that a better moniker would be “scantily clad women at whom society says it is okay for me to look.”  I suppose “cheerleader” has become shorthand for that, and I realize that most or all men don’t object, but the ones for whom cheerleaders actually affect their enjoyment of the game need help.

Do you like sports or not?  If you do, you really don’t need cheerleaders.  If you don’t, leave.

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Cute!  And apparently successful at this time.

Cute! And apparently successful at this time.

He is of course hotter when he scores goals, as he just did against FC Porto (boo, Porto).

Unfortunately he is also a wuss.  Everyone remembers how he was sort of maybe totally responsible for Wayne Rooney’s sending-off in the 2006 World Cup, and some of us are still a tiny bit bitter, but those certainly don’t include me, and also he dives like a machine.

He is also really good at what he does.  And I don’t mean just his talent for simulation, which is impressive.  It’s easy to forget when hateful footballers are actually good (Anderson Deco, I am talking to you, you cheating jackass).  It is a sore trial to those of us who admire integrity and goals.  One understands gamesmanship.  One may still condemn weasels.

So he’s a weasel.  But he was also World Footballer of the Year, and not just because he plays for a great club and is nice-looking.  And I guess if Wayne Rooney has forgiven him, I can too.

I have selected for your delectation what I am fairly certain is the manliest photo of Cristiano Ronaldo that exists in the whole world.  He is not making a whiny face, he has not done something totally insane with his hair, and he is clothed in clothes that he did not himself choose.  You should be grateful.

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By driving drunk!  GAH!

Let’s say you’re a normal person.  You want to want to get drunk.  I understand.  Now let’s say you can’t just walk to the bar, party, or other alcohol dispensing location.  That’s poor planning on your part, but again, I understand.  The good news is, you still have options.  Depending on where you live, there might be buses or trains, and probably even cabs.  You’re probably not drinking alone, so maybe a friend will let you crash at his place.  Maybe he’ll even be sober and drive you home.  I know, it’s a pain if you’re from the middle of nowhere, but it’s worth the effort to not drive drunk, because, you know, you might KILL SOMEONE.

Okay, now let’s say you’re a professional athlete.  And not like some crappy middle reliever making the MLB league minimum.  No, you’re someone we’ve all heard of.  Someone who would make the news if he incurred some kind of traffic violation.  If I’ve heard of you, you clearly have giant piles of money.  You can live fifty miles from the bar, and still pay your limo driver to drive you there, sit in the car twiddling his thumbs for six hours, and then drive you home.  Or even to a hooker’s place.  You do not have the can’t-walk-no-bus-no-train-no-cab-no-sober-friends problem.  So is it really that hard to not KILL SOMEONE?

And stop beating women too.

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