The election post

We're all on pins and needles right now because it's the eve of election day (alternate title: "The Most Important Election Ever-Ever-Ever") so the Blob has decided to take you away from all that.

Sorta. Kinda. Well, maybe.

No, as we wait to see if some form of sanity returns to America, or if our Mad King prevails again for four more years of fun, frivolity and crazy people in pickup trucks, the Blob thought he'd tell you who and what he's voting for. But not in the way you're thinking.

(Vis-a-vis the way you're thinking: I voted already. Three weeks ago. And you already know who I voted for, even though I'm not going to tell you.)

(Hint: I like sanity.)

But I digress.

The voting I'm talking about involves my long career as a sportswriter, and stuff I would vote for if they put it on a ballot. It doesn't exactly amount to a political philosophy or a party platform, unless a lot of the boards in it are loose. It's just some stuff I found I liked, or didn't, in my 38 years on the job.

For instance, I vote the death penalty for anyone who utters the words "Boy, looks like we're headed for overtime" in a pressbox. (See also: The guy in the pressbox who says "Boy, this game is moving right along" in the sixth inning/third quarter/second half)

I vote for Boiler Dogs over Domer Dogs, and the chili at Notre Dame, and the porkburgers at Churubusco. And the butterfly pork sandwiches on Pork Day at Purdue.

I vote for gates at high school football fields to be no higher than eight feet, because it was all I could do to scale the eight-foot gate at Heritage High School when I got locked in one night.

I vote it's entirely acceptable to hiss "Noonan! Miss it!" in the pressbox when a kicker is lining up a potential game-tying field goal with two seconds left on the clock, or if a basketball player is on the line with free throws to tie in the same situation. 

I vote for whatever TV exec came up with the idea of 9 p.m. starts for college basketball games to be beaten briskly about the head and neck with Flintstone-sized clubs.

I vote, for President, for whoever came up with the Brees Box at Purdue. It got us quotes from Drew Brees on the field immediately after a game, instead of having to wait an hour for the notoriously dithering star to emerge from the locker room.

I vote for more flyovers of B-17 bombers and P-51 Mustangs at the Indianapolis 500 -- the coolest 500 flyover in the four decades I covered the race.

I vote for Media Day at the Super Bowl to actually be Media Day. No clowns on unicycles, weirdos in superhero costumes or people conducting interviews with sock puppets allowed.

I vote for more Mike Leach postgames, and fewer Bill Belichick postgames. For more Tony Stewarts, and fewer "The Bardahl Little Debbie Snack Cakes Kleenex Chevy was super today." For more plain old Rose-Orange-Sugar-Cotton Bowls, and fewer Chicken Joint/Huge Soulless Loan Sharking Institution/What The Hell Is A Vrbo bowls.

I vote for sane deadlines, no blank screens staring back at you on said deadlines, and brilliant ledes on command for all my brethren still fighting the good fight out there.

I salute you, ladies and gentlemen. Write good.