
Matthew Stafford, an untested rookie quarterback, is drafted number one by the NFL’s Detroit Lions and signs a guaranteed 43 million dollar contract.
Manny Ramirez, star outfielder for the Los Angeles Dodgers, test the waters of free agency, but returns to the Dodgers to sign a two year, 25 million dollar a year contract. He took less than he wanted because he knew the current economic crisis would limit his pay scale.
The New York Yankees recently opened a new stadium that cost nearly a billion dollars to build. The Dallas Cowboys are in the works to build a stadium that will cost well over that amount.
This is it. The signs of Armageddon. The last of days. American society has completely lost it’s burger chomping, Wii playing, American Idol watching mind.
Are we comfortable, as a culture, that sports figures; players, agents and owners, make hundreds, even thousands of times more than our teachers, than our social workers, than our police and firefighters, than our soldiers in harms way?
I’m not. I’m angry to the point of projectile vomiting.
Hold it…I know what you hardcore fans will say, “Come on, Tony, it’s just
business. It’s what people want. It’s what the market will bear.” Well take that bullshit argument, wrap it in a taco and shove it up till it says “hi-dee-ho” to your colon.
We can’t keep rationalizing every flaw in our society that makes a profit as “just business.”
Corporations pollute the water and air...
It’s just business.Gas guzzling SUVs are flooded on to the market, even though we have a dangerous dependency on foreign oil…
It’s just business.Wall Street greed merchants nearly bury the nation in bad vapor loans…
It’s just business.We have to realize that our culture; arts, entertainment, social life and sports, are a mirror to our real selves. They represent who we are as a country—not our politicians, not our flag or our marble monuments…our
culture says who we really are. Our arts are disappearing. Theater and ballet companies are closing their doors. Museums are going under.
But an average player in Major League Baseball makes over 3 million dollars a year.So take a look in that mirror. Look hard. We seem comfortable, even entertained by obscenely massive salaries being thrown around for hormonally freakish nut-scratchers, ball-dunkers and tight ends. And we’ll pay top dollar for the best seats and 20 bucks for a beer and a brat. But God forbid we should raise property taxes a few dollars month to improve our schools?
Let the public outrage begin!Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate sports. I was an avid Packer fan growing up and still have a mild interest. Although I’d much rather play a sport than watch it. (We only get so many nice days up here in Da’ Great White North.) But enough is enough.
Back in the day, guys like Unitas and DiMaggio and Havlicek played for the love of the game. Sure, they made a pretty good salary doing it. They made a decent living. But they felt fortunate to be making that living playing a game that they loved. And they would have done it for free.
Today’s athletes have developed a twisted sense of privilege and obligation. They act like they’re owed the big payday. They’re whole self-esteem revolves around it. And they’ll stomp their feet and throw a fit if they don’t get it.
“He’s making more than me? But I’m better than he is! I want more! I know I signed a contract last year, but I’m sitting out until you pay me more than him! Whaaaaa!!!!”And, like bad parents who spoil their offspring, we give it to them. They drink and drive and we give it to them. They abuse their spouses and we give it to them. They stab people in strip clubs and we give it to them. They can exhibit all that is bad in human nature; greed, selfishness, brutality… and we give it to them. Michael Vick is serving time for supporting a barbaric dog fighting ring. But you can bet that when he gets out we’ll give it to him.
I had the great displeasure of living in Milwaukee when they were proposing that massive domed turd called Miller Park. You know, the 600 million dollar, single sport stadium with a faulty retractable roof? The one guys died making? The one that Milwaukee and surrounding county taxpayers were going to be footing half the bill for? Without a public referendum?
How obscene is that? The local, sports loving politicians and business owners (with the help of ol’ Bud Selig, who no doubt made a pretty penny himself on the deal) shoved through this abomination and we were going to be responsible for half of it whether we liked baseball or not. With no say in the matter whatsoever.
The projected amount in tax payer dollars for Miller Park, when all is said and done, will be over 400 million dollars. Let that sit in the back of your mind for a moment…
400 million. A major city with a faltering school system, high crime, crumbling infrastructure and under-funded public services, and we decide a ball park is a better investment. Are we mouth breathing morons or what?
The argument was made that Miller Park would bring tons of new revenue into the area. Revenue from what? Brat and peanut sales and parking fees?
And as a last slap in the face, Miller Brewing steps in, shells out 20 million and gets to name it Miller Park. Wait a minute. 400 million vs 20 million. We paid more. Why isn’t it called “The Peoples Park of Milwaukee?” Seems only fair. Miller even got luxury skyboxes out of the deal. Seems like an extravagance for a company that makes a beer that tastes like watered down cat urine.
Which is why, when they had the much ballyhooed ribbon cutting ceremony, I made a personal vow: I will never, never ever, never ever ever ever ever NEVER SET FOOT INTO MILLER PARK AS LONG AS I BREATHE GOD’S AIR!!! I don’t care if there’s a million in gold ingots waiting for me on the pitchers mound. I don’t care if my life and livelihood depends on it. I don’t care if Jehovah himself is gonna come down for a visit and a first row, third base side seat is reserved for me. I will never, ever go in.
I think it’s time to look in that mirror. I think it’s time to stare down these greedy sports stars and agents and owners and make like Nancy Reagan and just say no.
I’m Anthony Wood. I’m angry. And I have no gall bladder.