This is Ebb Tide Weekend on the sports calendar, aka Thank God For The Winter Olympics, aka Hey, Look, Another NBA/NHL/College Buckets Game. The Big Roman Numeral is still a week away, so a lot of stuff hasn't happened yet.
No one's done the umpteenth feature on Joe Burrows's dog, or his sunglasses, or whether he's reached out to his doppelganger, Macauley Culkin. No one's gone to Detroit to ask the people who live there how they feel about Matthew Stafford playing in the Super Bowl. And no one's delved into the fascinating backstory of the backup right tackle for the Bengals and/or Rams.
It's a dead weekend, in other words. That's why the NFL, which desperately wants to divert attention from Brian Flores's racial discrimination suit and fresh evidence that Daniel Snyder and the Washington Commanders organization are a pack of slobbering horndogs, is presenting the Pro Bowl tomorrow in Las Vegas.
The Pro Bowl! Who's up for a little sort-of football to whet your appetite for the real football?
It's the greatest spectacle in groin-pull avoidance, the Pro Bowl is, but they've been playing it for 71 years, so it does have some history. I mean, who among us of a certain age doesn't have a few cherished Pro Bowl memories?
I know I do.
(A brief pause while I retrieve my cherished Pro Bowl memories)
(A longer pause)
(A really, really long pause)
(The sudden realization that it's now Monday morning and I still got nothin'. Plus this year's Pro Bowl is over and I don't know who won on account of I didn't watch it.)
(But don't tell me. I recorded it.)
("You did not," you just said)
Dang. Can't put anything past you folks.
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