Signs We Are Near The End Of Civilization: The Indianapolis Colts Now Have Sensitivity Training Classes For Fans
Thanks to the Indianapolis Colts, we have yet another solid gold example of the further hypocritical pussification of America.
The following sentence gives us the “pussification” part.
The Colts pre-season starts this weekend. There are some new security policies in place but one thing remains the same. Behaving badly at Lucas Oil Stadium can get you booted and banned from returning.
That may be true, but it seems there is a wide gulf in the definition of “unruly behavior.”
It’s people who are unruly, yelling, screaming, standing up in front of you and getting obnoxious, the normal stuff that happens when people drink too much.
OK, football fans.. if I were to ask 10,000 of you which team has fans who get completely out of control, the number who said “the Colts” would be somewhere between “zero” and “are you fucking kidding me?” This stupid-ass article even admits that.
While Colts fans are known for being among the best-behaved in the league, some do get out of control. According to the Capital Improvement Board, which runs Lucas Oil Stadium, last season 64 fans were ejected from the stadium with nine arrested.
Let’s run those numbers, shall we? Between the exhibition and regular seasons, the Colts had ten home games in 2012. The capacity of Lucas Oil Stadium is 67,000 fans. That means the number fans that were kicked out equals .00095% of the total. That’s less than 7 total per game. That means the Indianapolis Police Department could transport all of them with one full-size van. Let’s contrast that with Philadelphia, where the conversation about how big to build the in-stadium jail at Lincoln Financial Field took such a dominant position in the construction planning they fucking forgot to put in drinking fountains. The Eagles literally had to hand out bottled water while that problem was fixed. Think about that for a moment…in a stadium in a city where the fans are notorious for throwing batteries, they gave them two-pound bottles of water which could cave your skull right in when tossed from the upper deck.
What’s the biggest problem they have in Indianapolis? Did somebody throw a Steak N’ Shake wrapper? For those of you who don’t know, let me describe the typical Colts’ fan to you. Take the whining nature of a Minnesota Viking fan, combine it with the football knowledge of an Amazonian tribesman, sprinkle in some slavish idolatry for Tony “Bat-Boy” Dungy, and cover it all with a 6XL Peyton Manning Denver Broncos jersey hiding at least three sets of those giant, blue-veined, unisex rain-gutter titties they all have and you are pretty much there. The sports talk radio station in Indianapolis is the only one where you can actually hear somebody getting the Heimlich Manuever live on the air and nobody seems surprised.
Let’s face it. Of course Colts’ fans are well-behaved, because 90% of them get winded answering the phone. The average female Colts’ fan has more Chins than a Shanghai phone book, and the average male Colts’ fan hasn’t seen his own junk in so long he couldn’t find it with an Earthquake Rescue Team and the sonar from “Hunt From Red October.” What the fuck are these people going to do? Sweat aggressively? Run over your toe with their Hoverround?
That’s only the first problem with this bullshit. Now for the hypocritical part.
The very same Colts franchise which is crying about unruly fans is the very same one who feeds them and gets them piss-drunk. That’s right…the Colts control all the concessions at Lucas Oil Field, which means you can forget about them ever getting rid of beer sales even though they are crying about alcohol creating part of their non-existent “unruly” fan problem. In other words, this is all a giant smoke-screen because the Colts will never give up the 100% profit share they get from beer sales.
So, why would the Colts a) cry about a problem that doetn’t exist and b) create something as patently stupid as a “fan conduct course?” Let’s see if you can figure that out as we walk through this.
As they were escorted out, they were given a letter outlining the Colts “fan conduct class.” It’s a four-hour online course which fans kicked out of a game must pay $75 to take and pass if they wish to attend future games at the stadium.
Larry Hall, Vice President of Ticket Operations and Guest Services for the Colts, explained, “We want everyone to have a good time, but never at someone else’s expense. So if someone uses foul language or excessive alcohol that would be against the fan code of conduct.
While Hall said this year it’s now an NFL best practice, the Colts were one of the original teams to adopt the rule. He said the course covers everything from alcohol abuse and stadium policies to stress management and communication skills.
“In the end it’s meant to be an educational process in which they come away with a better understanding of their behavior and how it affects others trying to enjoy the game,” Hall said.
Did you pick up on it yet? There’s a distinct reason why the Colts are doing this. If you don’t have it yet, try another few lines from the original article.
Fans attending the Colts camp in Anderson were surprised to hear about the course, but mostly supportive.
Carol Simpson said, “I think it’s really fair, to keep it safe and especially with families.”
Her husband Scott Simpson agreed. “The days of the 1960s and 1970s macho fan are over and football has really spread out its fan base.”
Janice Houghton added, “It sounds beneficial. When you have people that don’t use common sense and respond in suitable ways, they might need some help.”
If you haven’t’ figured it out by now, I’ll just tell you. The Bryan Stow incident scared the shit of out of every major-league sports owner, but not enough to where they did anything that would make a difference. Their need to “do something” while making sure to not touch the profits leads to shit like “sensitivity training.” This is the product of group-think between incompetent lawyers and brain-dead executives in an exercise that marries “The Emperor Is Naked” scenarios with classic “having cake and eating it too” mentality.
You can have all the “sensitivity training” you want and it won’t change anything. The best salesman in any company will always get away with grabbing the ass of any secretary he wants because he makes money. The same applies to stadium concessions. They are always going to sell beer because the money they make it too good even after paying off for the occasional incident. “Sensitivity training” is just a way of saying “Gee, we know we have a problem, and we are sure trying to solve it by doing just about anything but the one thing we know would stop the problem.”
I’m not enough of a Pollyanna to think the top salesman will ever get fired for a little game of “grab-ass,”, and I’m not naive enough to think stadium concessions will ever stop selling alcohol. But telling me that “sensitivity training” will solve these issues is like pissing on my foot and telling me it’s is raining. The problem is that this is yet another story that shows that this country has far too many people who think it only rains on their foot.
So, here I am channel-surfing on July 4th, the birthday of the greatest nation on earth, and what do I see? An unmistakable sign that the future of this country is a dark and barbarous place that hopefully I won’t live to see. In a country which already has a rampant obesity problem, we are celebrating a national holiday by watching a bunch of guys attempt to eat their weight in hot dogs.
Think about that for a minute.
First of all, aren’t we as a nation fucking fat enough? Just for purposes of full disclosure, I’m part of that problem. I will admit that I am a middle-aged guy who is bigger around the middle than he should be, but there was a day when I decided that needed to change. Over the last couple of years, I’ve made it a point to make sure there is 40 pounds less of me. Now don’t get me wrong, this isn’t going to be one of those preachy-ass “mommy blogs” about how I’m only feeding my family quinoa and organic soybeans. Fuck that noise. As a matter of fact, the really ironic part is as I’m writing a blog pointing out the completely fucked-up nature of a hot-dog eating contest, Mrs. Dubsism is grilling bratwursts for lunch.
That’s right. Despite my objection to this bacchanalian orgy of cylindrical meat, I too love a collection of meat-like substances loaded with nitrates and shoved into a tube. Why? Because I’m a goddamn American, that’s why. I don’t give a shit what kind of animal it was; if you grind it, spice it, and shove it in a casing, I’m there. But you know what? When you start sweating pork grease and your pulse becomes more erratic than the drummer in a high-school garage band, it is time to dial it back.
Seriously, just go to any supermarket in America and see how many people you see who are roughly the size of a Ford F-150. Look at how many people you see who are so fucking fat they get winded driving their motorized shopping cart. I saw a guy the other day who was so corpulent he needed to use elastic bandages to keep the skin on his legs from exploding. Then look at the shit they buy. Better yet, look at how they buy it.
One of the things that drives me absolutely fucking crazy is when I have to listen to this bullshit about “hungry” people in this country. This country is floating on food, and the fact that we’ve made eating a sport only proves that. Doubt that? When you are at the supermarket counting the truck-sized people, make a note of how full of food those giant buildings are. Then note how many trucks there are behind it bringing even more food. Then, to top it off, make note of how many of those human beachballs are filling their motorized shopping carts with absolute shit, then paying for it with some sort of welfare. Add it all up, and it becomes clear that we don’t have a hunger problem in this country, we have an epidemic of bad decision-making.
Yeah, I know right now, some bleeding-heart asshole out there is getting ready to tell me all about malnutrition in America and claim some wholly unprovable statistic. Not too long ago, I saw such a bit on a local news program, and every single one of the people they claimed were “suffering from hunger” and depended on a food bank all weighed at least 300 pounds. Besides, you can always buy a giant bag of potatoes for four bucks.
For comparison, let’s look at a place where there is real hunger. Pick your favorite third-world country; you know the kind where they are telling me they can feed some poor kid on only cents per day. Now, those people look hungry; they’ve got ribs sticking out and they have flies walking on their faces. You simply cannot look hungry with part of a McNugget stuck in your neck fat.
By now, you are asking just what the hell does this have to do with competitive eating? There’s another comparison that answers that question. Logic would dictate that a guy who make a living eating 60 hot dogs would know all about the benefits of elastic-waist pants? Seriously, how can one be involved in a sport which keeps statistics like “dogs per minute” and not weigh as much as an NFL offensive line?
You’re going to have to follow me close on this one. First, keep in mind these guys clearly aren’t eating because they are hungry of all; they eat because there’s money in it. Better yet, they aren’t eating any of that quinoa-soybean shit either. These guys are making a living gutting tacos, pizza, and all the other processed death stuff you see the scooter set buying. But if you see these competitive-gorgefests, you can’t help but notice the professional eaters aren’t aren’t morbidly obese; in fact several of them appeared to be in pretty damn good shape.
When you put it all together, it spells doom for America. Not only have we turned a basic survival instinct into competitive sport, we have a nation full of people who are eating at a professional level and not getting paid for it. Worse yet, these amateur face-stuffers aren’t even any good at it; i’st an eating “fail” if you can eat 60 hot dogs and somebody still thinks you are hungry.
Happy Birthday, America! Enjoy it while you still can.
Signs We Are Near the End Of Civilization: They Are Teaching Your Kids To Masturbate with a Tetherball Pole
I’ll admit, it is really only the mention of tetherball that provides even the loosest tie to the world of sports, but if there were ever a sign that we are hurtling toward the apocalypse, this HAS to be it.
Let’s be honest. The American approach to sex education has throughout history has been incredibly puritanical. Hell, I can remember when I was a kid how controversial the Judy Blume book Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret was because it (gasp) discussed menstruation. But what authors Joani Blank and Marcia Quackenbush have done with their collaborative work A Kids First Book About Sex blows waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay past that.
Mrs. Dubsism is a fan of “The Walking Dead,” which before she exposed me to that show, I thought was a term to describe Jacksonville Jaguars. Little did I know that joke would lead to the discovery of real NFL zombies. From The Big Lead:
Hines Ward will appear on an episode of AMC’s The Walking Dead as a zombie. Ward played football at Georgia with Robert “IronE” Singleton who played T-Dog on the show. Ward said he enjoyed it, but apparently it was a harrowing experience.
“Just being in makeup preparing me for my role was cool. I actually scared myself when I looked in the mirror for the first time after.”
Now for the only question that matters – Who kills the bitch-ass zombie version of Hines Ward? I’m going with Carl.
Yeah, Carl is a psychotic little shit, but Darrell is a killing machine.
Yeah, you read that headline right. There’s a breeder making accusations that somebody is raping their horses.
Before you read any further, ask yourself a question. When you read a story like this, isn’t the first thing that pops into your head something like “WTF? Where in the hell would something like this happen.” Then you think, as always, it has to be either Wisconsin or Florida.
An owner and breeder of world-class miniature horses in Florida is hoping video surveillance footage will help identify the person suspected of sexually assaulting several of her horses and killing her watchdog.
First of all, you know you aren’t shocked this is happening in Florida. Secondly, notice how the dead watchdiog only gets mentioned as an after-thought. At least that gives us something else for which we can blame Michael Vick.
“Since May, we have had someone come into our barn on several occasions in the middle of the night and take our miniature show horses and sexually attack them.”
On Sunday, [Abby] Conder got her first glimpse of the apparent perpetrator when she reviewed video footage from inside her barn recorded earlier that morning.
“Someone’s got to know this man,” Conder said. “He’s been in this area at least eight months now. These are babies I have raised and it’s affected them psychologically. It’s hard to get in a stall with them and I can’t get near their rear ends to put a harness on them.”
Yeah, you just read that. Admit it, when you read the word “babies,” you thought about making a “Jerry Sandusky” joke. Don’t even try to deny it…and you know the line about “getting near their rear ends” made coffee shoot out of your nose.
Conder said she has filed seven reports with the Marion County Sheriff’s Office and the agency has offered little assistance in catching the person responsible. “The police come out, take a report and go away. They don’t help us,” Conder said. “The officer said we had to get this person on film. He said, ‘If you get them on film, it will help us identify him.’ So we bought a night-vision camera and put it in the barn. I checked it every day and nothing. Then, on Sunday morning, there he was in the barn.”
Conder…said she was excited to finally have the image, but dismayed after she met with a deputy with the sheriff’s office.
“I called the police and said I had him on film,” she said. “They came out, did a little report and I offered them the film. They said, ‘No, we can’t use that for anything.’ They said what I would need to do is find out when he is in the barn, catch him and call them.”
Do you know why the cops aren’t a big hurry to help this woman and her horses? I’m not even sure having sex with a horse is even illegal in Florida. Don’t laugh, in Wisconsin it was legal to have sex with a corpse until 2008.
That why shit like this always happens there or in Florida.
If you want to get a long and pointless discussion started, just bring up the subject of internet bullying. One of the things that makes that argument pointless is that it ignores real bullying, and to ignore real bullying is to ignore the occasionally hilarious stories it produces, like this one from the Ventura County Star,
A former New Mexico high school basketball player fed up with bully has filed his own lawsuit against two former teammates who he said put urine in his hair gel.
In a lawsuit filed recently in New Mexico’s 13th Judicial District, Rio Rancho High School senior Wake Gardner claimed that fellow basketball players Carlos Sanchez and Christopher Gutierrez played the prank against him last April after a series of bullying episodes.
The lawsuit said the boys also threw urine on his clothing and other gear inside his gym locker.
I guess these bullies really pissed this guy off, eh? Oh, stop your groaning. You knew it had to be said. Besides, if you don’t want to see worse jokes, you’d better stop reading right here.
Let’s just go with the “urine in the hair gel angle.” Lucky it was just urine, or we’d have some sort of “Something About Mary” angle on our hands.
Then there’s the whole bit about dousing the guy’s clothes in urine. That’s just a piss-poor excuse for a prank.
Not to mention, what sort of sick bastard puts pee on other people’s stuff? The sort of guys who will have distinct problems with “pee-don’t pee” boundaries later in life.
Don’t even be the guy who writes a comment about how bullying is a serious problem. I know that, which is why there are a bazillion other websites for that. Certainly don’t be the guy who writes a comment telling me how much this post is in poor taste. I know that too, which is exactly why I wrote it. You can never pass up the opportunity to make fun of exceptionally stupid stuff. But most importantly, don’t be “that guy” because you were warned, and nothing pisses me off more than people who ignore warnings.
See, you’ve been warned again…
Signs We Are Near The End Of Civilization: When Tragedy Gets Sports Used As A Pulpit For Failed Politics
Obviously, this piece is being written in the aftermath of the horrific event at Sandy Hook Elementary School. Before I go anywhere with this, I’m going to quote fellow Sports Blog Movement member Patrick Young who really encapsulated this terrible tragedy in relevance to a sports blog as well as I think it can be done.
Like many people, I have been deeply troubled by what happened in Newtown, CT this past Friday. Obviously not as much as the residents of the town, and certainly not nearly as much as the victims’ families, but my heart truly breaks every time I think about that tragedy for more than a second. I have found it difficult to force myself to write about anything as trivial as sports, and writing about the tragedy itself is not something I can accomplish. I simply do not have the words.
To the residents of Newtown, Connecticut, and specifically the victims’ families, you have my unending sympathy. If there was anything I could ever do to help you in this time of grief, I would do it without question. May God grant you peace and understanding.
But unlike Young’s eloquent words, I happen to see a relationship between what happened both in the Jovan Belcher situation and at Sandy Hook because in no time at all, both of them were used by people to advance a political agenda, and sports were used as a conduit to do so.
Having said that, it is time for a disclaimer. The following opinions are those of J-Dub, and do not necessarily reflect those of Patrick Young or any other member of Sports Blog Movement. In other words, if what you are about to read pisses you off, take it up with J-Dub and nobody else.
I admit I’ve been fighting this battle for decades now. But I also know it’s a losing battle. As the business of sport has swelled to gargantuan proportions, it has to pay the bills somehow.
I don’t watch NASCAR, so I really don’t give a shit about the fact their cars and racing suit look like a patchwork quilt your grandmother would make, if she made it out of corporate logos. English soccer teams have had sponsors on their kits for yeas now, and I’m fine with that.
But for some reason, I have resisted the commercialization of American sports, but I’ve let myself live with certain concession to the commercial gods. I know the legnedary Vin Scully perfected the art of the in-game plug before I was even born (“Let’s take time out from that triple play to talk about Farmer John’s pure pork sausage”). I don’t like stadiums having corporate naming rights, but I live with it since that money helps build and maintain some really great facilities. I made myself at peace with the Nike logo on football jerseys because they kept it low-key. Hell, I even thought the “AT&T Call To The Bullpen” was kind of clever.
But, what is happening at George Mason University is where I’m drawing the line. I cannot accept the selling of actual game events. Now at Mason, everytime a Patriot cager hits a three-point shot, the arena announcer is contractually obligated to say “a Jim McCay Chevrolet three.”
But wait, there’s more…from the George Mason Athletics website:
Jim McKay Chevrolet 3-point T-shirt Toss
After every George Mason 3-point basket, three George Mason Basketball – Jim McKay Chevrolet t-shirts will be launched into the crowd, courtesy of Jim McKay Chevrolet. Additionally, you can keep track of the Patriots 3-point baskets by checking the McKay Chevrolet Shootin’ Threes banner on the railing below section 122.
Honestly, this hurts even more because I have a Mason connection. George Mason University is one of the fine institutions of higher learning that had the temerity to either kick me out or give me a diploma to get me the hell off their campus (I may still not be at liberty to disclose which due to some legal complications). Regardless, the point is to this day, I still have a soft spot for that 2006 G-Mas team which made that miracle run to the Final Four. That’s why it pains me that Mason has crossed this line.
But this isn’t about me turning this into a “Where are they now?” for Jai Lewis, Tony Skinn, and Folarin Campbell. This is about the continuing commercialization of sports, and the fact that George Mason represents the line I will not accept crossing. To that end, I know I’m waging a Quixotic campaign; this is going to continue no matter how many silly rants against it I publish. What this comes down to is that I refuse to let myself ask what’s next, because there are simply too many completely horrifying possibilities.
Today, we are going to learn how much pure sadism and hilarity can come from one sixteen-second video.
First of all, where does one find a school that would line up 9 boys heads down and their pre-pubescent taints exposed for prime soccer-ball damage? Not one of them seems to know what is coming; otherwise you might think they might put a hand or two over their little giblets.
Actually, that’s eight head down boys and one whose being a bit of a bitch. There’s always that one kid who just can’t play along, which is why he’s the one to keep your eye on in this clip.
Now comes the part that we can’t decide which is funnier…
- The fact this girl wails a soccer ball full-on at these boys from about six feet away
- The fact that she nails two taints, and still gets a full face shot out of the deal
- The stance on the kid still standing really makes you want him to get nailed
The sad part is some Phys. Ed. teacher somewhere is probably going to lose their job over this, which is too bad, because then we will never know why thses boys got lined up against the wall.
This is why the National Hockey League is screwed.
I’m a big hockey fan, and I know I’m missing the game, but I also know that if Commissioner Gary Bettman would work on settling this shit rather than worrying about the remnants of his reputation, they might actually be hockey being played.
Now, if you are a hockey fan, you are already pretty much fucked, because life sucks when your favorite sport is locked out. Can you imagine what would be happeing in this country if the NFL were cancelling regular-season games?
Now, imagine you are a hockey fan, your sport is locked-out, and you live in Columbus, Ohio. If you’ve never been to Columbus, picture Cleveland without the glamour. In other words, there’s only three things to do in Columbus:
- Watching the Columbus Blue Jackets lose
- Knob-Slobbing Urban Meyer (or whoever is currently cheating at Ohio State)
- Drinking to the point of brain damage
Bad things happen if you take away one of those three. The other night, Columbus Blue Jackets would have played the Vancouver Canucks. But since the NHL is having a labor-related hissy-fit, that didn’t happen. So what did all those desparate, drunken Blue Jackets do instead?
Apparently, the R Bar (How’s that for a clever name?), which also happens to be the Blue Jackets “home” bar, held an XBox simulation of the game that was supposed to be played. In other words, they found a way to get people to watch other people playing video games.
This can only mean Columbus is the most boring city in America.
Just picture it…all 237 “die-hard” Blue Jackets fans, slouched over what cheap-shit beer they drink in Columbus, watching a couple dudes play Xbox. Not only are they watching this, they are getting into it.
But wait, it gets better. It seems there is such precious little to do in Ohio’s capital city that the real Blue Jackets announcers showed up to call this psuedo-game. According to the video, the crowd went batshit when George Matthews and Bill Davidge showed up to call the Xbox simulation.
Seriously, watch the video. Remember that you are watching people watching two dudes playing a video game.
In a weird way, I feel the Blue Jackets fan’s pain. I miss the NHL too, and I’ve been to Columbus; I spent twenty years there one night. It’s not exactly an exciting place. If I lived there, I could totally see myself showing up for this event. After all, what the fuck else is there to do in Columbus on a Friday night? You can only kill yourself once…
The good news is that clearly Columbus loves the Blue Jackets. Of course they do, what the hell else do they have?
The best part: you that even thought this was a video game, the Blue Jackets probably still lost.