Christmas and New Years are too close together to separate. Likewise, The Super Bowl and a UNC v Duke BkB game should each merit its own separate post-mortem autopsy but we’re gonna combine them. Most autopsies ARE post-mortem.
Memo To: All high-profile public figures in sports, politics, business, entertainment or institutional administration.
Re: “Tweeting On Twitter”
Tweeting is best left to canaries, 14 year-old girls, convicts, nitwits and Kardashians. If you do not fit easily into one of those categories, DO NOT TWEET.
Consider this alternative. Soak your underwear in jet fuel and sit on a hot stove. There is very little upside and considerable downside to sitting on a hot stove in jet fuel soaked underwear… or tweeting. Either is a very silly thing for a responsible individual to do.
Don’t have any jet fuel? Then cram a rattlesnake down your pants and holler “Look At Me!”.
Pontificating one’s random impulses from a cyber-soap box in 140 character bursts is OK for an Internet Legend. Not so OK if you represent an organization of any size or perceived importance. Being like Joe Biden is NOT a lofty aspiration.
If one’s tweet is hailed as “bold” or “right on” by cross-eyed booger-eating loons, consider that a strong affirmation for canceling one’s Twitter account immediately.
A significant portion of my Wednesday was taken up by an innocent tweet from a friend of considerable good sense who innocently crammed a rattlesnake down his jet fuel-soaked fruit o’ the looms. Being surrounded by a herd of harumphing Democrats at the time may have accounted for the abject lapse of good sense.
At Day’s End, everyone I cared about was safe and sound other than a bruised ego. An ice bag and a stern lecture were delivered by Dr. BobLee – aka Internet Legend – aka Renown Crisis Manager / Authority on Foolish Behavior. Aside from that victory bonfire in West Derm, life as we know it resumed.
As the devilish bonfire spewed its flames into the West Derm sky, it was universally agreed that The Tweet did not approach the level of Heyman vs Brown, Henderson’s elbow or Capel’s Hail Mary. BTW: Is Kendall Marshall the Lost Capel Brother?
As for the game itself ….. a gallant but vain effort by Roy’s Boyz. The early champagne hopes of TarHeelNation dissolved under a net-ripping barrage by Nolan and Curry2. A football team is ultimately no better than its 3rd string offensive line, so too a basketball team’s success can be measured by the skills of the 7th, 8th and 9th players on its roster. When 50% of the roster are biscuit boys who can’t dunk without a mini-tramp, said team has no margin for error or cheap fouls …. nor much get-go in its reserve tank at the 8:00 mark.
Roy’s bench depth has taken Horace Grelley’s advice and “gone west”. In the long term – good. Short-term – not so good.
UNC Basketball 2011 is much better than feared just three weeks ago. But not nearly as good as always expected by an ever-demanding fan base.
Reflections on A Super Bowl:
No telling how many potential Doritos / VW / BudLight consumers tuned-in specifically to watch Christina Aguilera sing The National Anthem. Random guess are “darn few” and “statistically zero”. In its eternal quest to appeal to every nook & cranny of the American demographic mosaic, the NFL needlessly exposes itself to the shenanigans of oddball artists being oddball artists.
SOLUTION: Use US military choruses to sing TNA in a rotating annual schedule each year. Avoid skanky pop stars or at least save skanky pop stars for halftime.
The best case scenario with a skanky pop star is that his/her/it’s inevitable screw-up is not so disgusting that it totally overshadows the game. Ms Aguilera came close. Will Roger Goodell take my advice? Of course not. I will carry an “I told you so” in my pocket for next year’s annual skank embarrassment.
As for skanky pop-stars at halftime, I knew there was a group called Black-eyed Peas and their lead skank was some trollop named “Fergie”. I had no idea of any songs they sing. I still don’t. Adults go to the bathroom while fans of undecipherable noise pretend to enjoy the tumult and high decibel assault on the senses. Usher jumping over the BEPea into a split was nice.
The game was a “good-un” by any measure other than to a die-hard Steeler fan. Aaron Rodgers seems like a very nice adult athlete well-deserving of all his honors. That he is the Greatest QB in Football History de annum since Drew Brees is arguable. That Big Ben was immediately re-labeled a no-count disgusting perv for daring to not win is a bit harsh but such is sports in America in ‘11.
I am continually impressed by Steeler coach Mike Tomlin. What an incredibly level-headed leader of men. Imagine his success likelihood over the next decade. Imagine Mike Tomlin wearing a lampshade on his head and singing Mammy’s Little Baby Luvs Shortnin’ Bread. I can’t.
I’ve watched 1000s of football games and some/most of the 45 Super Bowls including SB2 in person. It dawned on me Sunday:
The precise skills of a top-level NFL QB are so incredibly awesome that we take them for granted.
97% of adult males cannot throw, heave, sling a football 30 yards. 98% of that 3% could not hit a bedsheet strung on a clothesline at 30 yards.
Imagine consistently throwing a football 30 yards thru a tire 8 out of 10 times.
Imagine if that tire is swinging and someone is standing in front of that swinging tire waving tennis racquets in both hands.
Imagine if you had to throw 8 of 10 balls 30 yards past the guy swinging the racquets and thru the swinging tire …. or the 100,000,000 watching you will say you are a bum.
Aaron Rodgers’ pass to Greg Jennings on Green Bay’s final drive was an impossible athletic feat for all concerned. It was IN-credible! Yes, Eli Manning’s stick-to-the-helmet pass was pretty awesome too. And a lot more over the years too.
A top tier PGA Tour player can take a one-iron and hit 20 of 25 golf balls into a 10’ circle from two and a half football fields away. I can’t hit a PGA Tour player with a one-iron from 5’ away. But, a PGA Tour player does not have to hit a one-iron into a 10’ circle …. within 2.5 seconds with total chaos taking place all around him.
With all due respect to any/all athletes performing at the top level of his/her sport …. A top NFL QB goes quail-hunting with a slingshot as 100,000 people are yelling at him to fail or fully expecting him to succeed.
Just an observation.
My Fave SB Commercials were: Little Darth Vader …. The Bridgestone Beaver …. House As Mean Joe Greene.