Monday, August 22, 2011

Feeding the Beast

It's that time of the year again. I promised myself, this year I wouldn't buy in. I wouldn't invest myself into something I have zero control over, and from which I receive no real benefit. I told myself I would invest my time and money into being creative, or advancing my craft. I said that my energy should be spent on my lovely wife, or my friends. Not this dark, ever tormenting demon that awakens around this time every year. But I failed. I'm weak. So now, all I'm beginning to think about is Football.
I blame my favorite player. Phillip Rivers. I was doing great till I watched him and the San Diego Chargers offense roll 89 yards for a score against the Seahawks last week. Yeah, it's a meaningless preseason game, but damn, they looked great. Big pass to VJax. Quick dump off to 35. Touchdown. Up until the moment they took the field, I had been committed to being non committal. I felt that if the NFL was so intent on alienating fans and trying to squeeze every last dime from the people who feed they're massive coffers, then they should go fuck themselves.
The lockout pissed me off. I refuse to buy into this "Millionaire vs Billionaire" argument. It's bullshit. The VAST majority of NFL players will not take home a million dollars this year. They will get cut in camp. They will play out the contract they signed as rookies, and hope they don't suffer a catastrophic injury and play well enough to make the big bucks in 4-5 years. The owners on the other hand, are ALL BILLIONAIRES. They control the rights to some of the most expensive property in the land. We, the fans and regular citizens, build them new stadiums with our tax money. They are insured on every level. They are making more money off their franchises than ever before. "Fuck em." I said. "They want to jerk me around, they can't have my money." Conviction. Until #17 lobbed one of his jedi warlock passes into the man mountain Vincent Jackson waiting arms for a 40+ yard gain.
Now I'm finished. I really didn't have a chance. I've already drafted my first fantasy team and will draft at least 2 more. The NFL knows it's a beast that has it's teeth already sunk into my DNA. It will never die, it can only sleep.
The dragons awake, it's hungry, and it wants all of my fucking gold.