September 9th, 2005

Football Jersey

on stupid statistics...

why must the forces of nature conspire to make me hate everything I love? I want to like football, really I do. Football is one of the very few great joys left in my life. I don't ask for much. I just want to sit down and relax while drinking a beer and watching forty-some-odd guys beating the crap out of each other for a couple of hours. I don't think its too much to ask for.

But then there's the stats guy. Ok, I'm gonna be pretty upfront here. I know what its like to hate my job. My life in lot is sad. I am forced to go in every morning working the 9 to 5 and doing something I wasn't meant to do. In an ideal world, I'd be living God's plan for me. I've had an occasion to speak to God recently, and he told me that what he really wants for me is to be head of the Playboy empire. He wants Hef to pass the mansion and the business on to me and I'll sit around, picking playmates, editing articles, smoking a pipe, skinny dipping in the grotto and fucking the hell out of 7 buxom blondes with with a combined IQ of 35. I know it sounds glamorous, but really its not all that. Its a lot of hard work, but someone has to do it. God wants me to be that guy. Sadly, Hef isn't cooperating. The greedy bastard is just hanging onto his empire with a stranglehold. God says he's disappointed, but what can you do really?

So, instead I go throughout my daily depressing life. I work throughout the year with few great joys, really. Few things that make the monotony of my non-billionaire playboy existence tolerable. And one of those few things is the knowing that 21 of the 52 weeks in a year have football to watch (preseason and the Pro Bowl do not count as football). I depend on that. It keeps me sane. It keeps me from killing really a whole bunch of people that might irritate me in my day-to-day life.

And really my job isn't that bad. Its nowhere near as pointless as say being an NFL statistician. So believe me, sir, if you are reading this, I understand your frustration. I get it. I know you must do whatever you can to try and bring some semblance of meaning to your life. Really, trust me, I sympathize.

Yes, I know it must be hard knowing that you are not appreciated. Knowing that really, no one gives a damn about you. Your genius is not recognized. I get that. Really, I do. Show up at Happy Hour tomorrow and I'll buy you a fucking beer, ok? But what I do not need is for you to make up stats to amuse yourself at the cost of annoying me and detracting from my love of the game that would otherwise cause me to kill really a whole bunch of people.

"the patriots have 25 consecutive wins in home games when leading while entering the 4th quarter"

What the fuck is that? That's not a real stat? Who pays attention to that. And on the off chance that those numbers are even valid and that you were so bored to figure that out, what possibly makes you think that even a single person on the face of this godforsaken planet would give a damn? Is this suppose to enrich my life somehow? I don't think so. Basically it serves simply to irritate me.

So thankyou, Mr. NFL-stat-guy. Thank you for nothing. If you're going to take football from me, the very least you could do would be to supply the blondes.