Some years ago, when I was both much younger and certain I’d never grow old, frail and crotchety, I vowed I’d never become one of those long-winded old geezers who spends his time perpetually muttering about how much better things were in the good old days, rambling on about his myriad medical issues to anyone who’ll listen, and perpetually yelling at random passers-by to “Get off my lawn!”
But that was then. This is now, and I need to vent.
Baseball’s postseason includes too many teams; getting to the World Series has become a virtual crapshoot. This year none of the three 100-win squads even got as far as their league’s championship series. Besides that, I’m sick of watching jewelry-laden, tattooed egotists gesturing to the heavens and mugging for the cameras while they showboat their way around the diamond after slugging a Superball wrapped in horsehide over the fence. Whatever happened to modestly circling the bases after a home run, getting patted on the rump by the third base coach, shaking hands with the next hitter, and then returning to the dugout without fanfare so the game could continue? Major League Baseball’s regular season has become just as meaningless as the National Basketball Association’s or the National Hockey League’s. Why should anyone pay the stratospheric prices required to see a bunch of callow, over-privileged millionaires play a silly regular season OR playoff game, anyway?
Speaking of sports, can anyone in the National Football League score a touchdown, recover a fumble, or intercept a pass without immediately going into a childish, poorly-choreographed celebratory routine with their fellow steroid monsters? My favorite player is whoever just gives the ball to the referee after he makes a big play, or more accurately, does what he’s being paid to do.
And when it comes to the “Hey, look at me!” set, athletes in other sports aren’t any better. I’ll respect any NBA player who can slam the ball through the hoop and then hustle back to the defensive end of the court without thumping his chest, unleashing a primal scream, or simultaneously trash-talking and pointing at the guy on the other team he just posterized. And don’t even get me started on those prima donna soccer players!
Another thing: kids today are lazy, spoiled, and entitled. They spend the day mesmerized by their phones, listening to ear-splitting, off-key cursing they call music, and chugging oddly-hued beverages with more caffeine in them than ten cups of coffee. No wonder the average high schooler has the attention span of a gnat! These teenage twerps leave campus at mid-day, then return at their leisure for club meetings, acting in the school play, or competing in interscholastic sports. And it’s all thanks to spineless, enabling school teachers and administrators. Kids come and go as they please because they’re driving Mom’s SUV, or the car their spineless, enabling parents provided for them. And they’re hypocrites, too. Anyone want to guess how many members of the Environmental Protection Club get to and from school via public transportation?
My vision is blurred. My hip keeps acting up. My neck is stiff. My back hurts all the time, and I get winded climbing the stairs. It hurts to sit. It hurts to stand. Lying down feels okay, but how am I supposed to make a living? Are there any companies offering competitive salaries and a decent benefits package for fulltime mattress testers?
What a relief it is getting all that off my chest. I feel spiritually cleansed. However, there is just one additional thing I’d like to say.
Get off my lawn.Andy Young
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