Tag: hockey

Brainiac On Banjo: Freedom of Sports

Brainiac On Banjo: Freedom of Sports

“Blood on the ice ran down through the years, the king of the goons with a box for a throne. A thousand stitches and broken bones, he never lost a fight on his icy patrol.” From Hit Somebody, written by Warren Zevon and Mitch Albom.

Yale’s 1st Football Team; Walter Camp 2nd across upper left

I’ve long possessed a go-to line when I want to leave a party or a large dinner filled with people too normal to engage in my pop culture passions. I tell them I find football to be boring.

Not stupid, not dangerous, not big-tummied people who paint themselves up because getting a ginormous tattoo probably is lethal. Nope. Simply boring. People are at first incredulous, but they quickly succumb to the creepiness inherent in my sincerity. “Boring?” They respond… or “Boring? Really?” if they are among the more erudite.

I inform them I’m a hockey fan, and the area around me thins out. Those who are hockey fans as well might shoot me a kind look of support. Hockey is a very fast, very high impact game played by professional monsters too young to have a fear of death yet too well-employed to have all of their teeth. Even in what looks like a likely blowout, the fate of a game can switch in the last three minutes.

In comparison, football is, to me, little more than a large hunch of well-built apemen slamming into each other for one minute and then wandering around for five minutes discussing what happened. My first paying gig at wordsmithing was as a prep sports writer, and even then I had a hard time covering football. Continue reading “Brainiac On Banjo: Freedom of Sports” →

Brainiac On Banjo: I’m Gonna Get A Lotta Shit For This…

Life’s a football game, as every chump and champ knows. We don’t touch, we collide, till we’re worn out inside. We’re kicking each other, right where it hurts, setting up the big play, and trying to score. — “Football” written by Iggy Pop, Whitey Kirst, and Whitney Kirst.

Art by Jack Davis

Yeah, I know I’m going to get a lot of shit for this, but the worst thing that ever happened to America is football.

OK. Breathe into a paper bag for a minute and then read my explanation.

As George Carlin told us back in 1975 during the very first episode of Saturday Night Live, and I excerpt, “football has hitting, clipping, spearing, piling on, personal fouls, late hitting and unnecessary roughness. Football is played in any kind of weather: rain, snow, sleet, hail, fog. In football, you can be sure that at least twenty-seven times you’re capable of taking the life of a fellow human being. In football the object is for the quarterback, also known as the field general, to be on target with his aerial assault, riddling the defense by hitting his receivers with deadly accuracy in spite of the blitz, even if he has to use shotgun. With short bullet passes and long bombs, he marches his troops into enemy territory, balancing this aerial assault with a sustained ground attack that punches holes in the forward wall of the enemy’s defensive line.”

Art by Jack Davis

Fine. That’s the sport of football. Compared to the way the rest of the world plays their football, very few people actually get killed. Except in Canada, where they play a different game of football altogether and they are very polite, once they get outside of a hockey arena. But the culture of American football — and that’s the last time I’ll use that adjective with respect to sport — well, that’s a whole different thing. It is much more dangerous. Continue reading “Brainiac On Banjo: I’m Gonna Get A Lotta Shit For This…” →

Weird Scenes Inside the Gold Mind  #098: A Truly Honorable American

Weird Scenes Inside the Gold Mind #098: A Truly Honorable American

The goalie committed, Buddy picked his spot / Twenty years of waiting went into that shot / The fans jumped up, the Finn jumped too / And coldcocked Buddy on his follow through / The big man crumbled but he felt all right / ‘Cause the last thing he saw / was the flashing red light / He saw that heavenly light — Warren Zevon, Hit Somebody!, 2002

Statue of General Black Hawk

You may have heard that the Washington Redskins football team finally moved to change its name a mere 72 years after its founding as the Boston Braves. They played in the same park as the baseball team of the same name. When they moved to the hallowed confines of Fenway Park, they changed their name to the Boston Redskins and took that with them to Washington, DC four years later.

That would be 1937, so the response “Well, it’s about time” is way too late. The term “redskins” is and always has been an offensive term, particularly to those people who, quite frankly, should be America’s landlords.

This is going to upset some of my liberal friends, but I don’t feel the same way about the names “Indians,” “Braves,” or “Chiefs,” et al. These names are not inherently bigoted. Yes, it is a fact that there aren’t a hell of a lot of Indians employed by professional sports teams outside of India. Then again, there aren’t a lot of lions, tigers and bears earning their livings in such fashion either… any more. Continue reading “Weird Scenes Inside the Gold Mind #098: A Truly Honorable American” →