Today marks the worst day of the year.
And no, this is not the Anniversary of when the Backstreet Boys released a mix album with New Kids on the Block, however that piece of music is a shame to humanity in itself.
For full effect, download “Tubthumper” by Chumbawamba and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post.
Today is honestly the most pathetic, most gruesome, most dull-inspired day that we are all forced to endure every single year. Today feels worse than getting a canker on the roof of your mouth after eating nine bowls of Cap’n Crunch. It’s the day when using sandpaper as deodorant feels better than watching what Sportscenter is airing 24 hours a day. It’s a day when true sporting events die, and we all have to try and stomach the hot days of summer with the joke of a game known as baseball.
Ugggh, I think I might join a quilting club to make the days pass by it’s that stale. Can somebody please buy me some fabric?
If you have paid attention to any form of media coverage online, on your TV, or on that little device that vibrates in your pocket, you may be familiar with last night being Game 7 of the NBA Finals between the San Antonio Spurs and the opponent that shall not be named. It was a great contest with a certain team being crowned the champion, a slew of champagne bottles being uncorked left and right, and a 6’9” 245-lb. behemoth of a creature saying that he couldn’t wait to go to Disneyland.
But after the festivities had stopped and the elationary cigarettes had fizzled out, we all had to face the fact that we would now have baseball forced down our throats for the next three months. And not just one boring type of baseball, all boring types of baseball. I’m talking Major Leagues, minor leagues, NCAA championships, Pan-Am challenges, Little League World Series, everything. Yes that’s right, we are so bored in the summer we have the number one sports broadcasting network do around the clock coverage of a team who think girls still have cooties.
Announcer: “As you can see, Johnny Cartwright is a heck of a pitcher for the team from Hampton, Virginia. He’s got a slider you wouldn’t believe.”
Color Commentator: “You’re right, and Johnny just got an “A” on his spelling test and has a pet frog named Optimus Prime, this kid is a dandy.”
And you wonder why I think the sports world has lost its luster in the summertime?
By the way, have I mentioned that as of today, June 21, 2013, the Major League Baseball season has only played 71 games? Yeah, that’s right, 71 games. They’ve been playing for over two months now and haven’t even reached the halfway point. True story. Major League Baseball plays 162 games a year. That’s nine innings of crotch-sniffing, dirt-smudging, signal-calling boredom that the American public is forced to endure every single summer. Baseball to me is worse than being strapped down in a hair salon and forced to watch a looping Sham-Wow infomercial. It’s a crime I tell ya.
The sad part is that there is nothing we can do about it. The rest of professional sports in this country have all died out, crowning champions left and right, and have all moved on with their preparations for the upcoming seasons which can’t start soon enough. Meanwhile the rest of us are obligated to deal with a bunch of grown men wearing makeshift Halloween costumes playing a game evolved from cricket. There is nothing else in the sports world worth wasting any more time and energy on.
Wait, what’s that? The Stanley Cup playoffs aren’t finished? You mean the real sports year isn’t over just yet? Never mind then. Cancel my reservation with the quilting club