Bash Brothers 2012
Bash Brothers 2012
starships were meant to fly
and touch the sky
People ask me how I can be a hardcore fan of a pro sports team. They can’t process the devotion of a professional sports fan, because we’re just cheering for laundry, right? Not some tradition-steeped money-printing golden pyramid of virtuousness like a big time university. It’s hard to explain to them, but I can tell you.
See, I love you Detroit, and you’re right, I’ve never even lived there. I did grow up in your shadow – that far-ranging auto industry shadow – that fed my family and my friends families and everything in our town to a large extent. We didn’t soar as high as you did and our fall was faster, sooner, harder.
We traveled to you, but we weren’t exactly tourists. We were students. Our families took us to the Corner and we drove down deserted downtown streets, and we asked where the people were at. We didn’t understand why it wasn’t like trips to Chicago, with families crowding the avenues and bright, shining storefronts. The elders talked about how it used to be and we wondered what happened and over the years we learned. Your boarded up businesses taught us about the real race issues in America, the ones they gloss over in middle school history. We researched riots and politics and you planted the seed that drives our politics today – whichever way you lean.
And at the heart of those trips was the Corner. It smelled, looked and felt like the harness raceway back home. Instead of half-person jockeys in carts there were beer vendors and peanuts, panhandlers and Travis Fryman. It was the time you got to stay up til 1 AM with no consequences and see a city a night.
What I like about you, Detroit, is that you’re honest in your lies. When you have the worst professional football roster in history, you lose every god damned game. If you can’t hit a ball inside but can’t bring yourself to lay off, you swing at three straight pitches in the dirt. When the taxes can’t pay for the promises, you let the buildings rot in full view. If you need money, you ask. It isn’t always honorable and it’s rarely pretty but it’s not hidden. It’s there for the world.
What I love about you, though, is that when you’re good you don’t hide it. You break 9 tackles in one run, catch touchdown passes in triple coverage, win basketball championships scoring less than football teams, inflict grave bodily harm on quarterbacks, throw 101 in the 8th, crack jokes at first, play hunches and tinker with the lineup, build monster cars that make grown men weep 40 years later, manufacture an army to save Europe, and build a giant statue of a fist – because – Fuck You, that’s why.
They are going to spend a lot of time this weekend talking about your troubles and how these freak athletes are going to save you and people will bat around their theories of revitalization. But you don’t need a savior. You don’t need a superhero or a light rail or a new bridge. None of that is going to “save” anything. You need people that believe, wherever they are, and you need smart, talented people that work. Your teams aren’t you – they are now the ideal you strive for. Talented machines built by patient architects. The equals of anyone they meet on the field.
You aren’t the American underdog, or the realization of the American dream, or the American Paris, or the symbol of the broken American promises – you are America, every triumph and failure. And you’ll always be more than just laundry to me.
I’m not sure what’s gone wrong with the internets lately. People just don’t want to post anymore. Historical things are happening in this country while MICH is making headlines in all the right ways, but no one has a word to share about it. At least not in E-POST form. Why come? I at least have a reason not to post on the reg. My post are generally lacking facts or proper engrish, I don’t deny dat shiat. But if nobody on the WLA makes a post, then it’s up to CHIPS to keep “everything is terrible” in full stride. I figured I would do a quick re-cap of what’s been going on since D-MO decided to go pro and achieve dream.
RIP: Robert Tractor Traylor, big dude with a big heart. Also lots of family members. Sad way to go.
Congrats: Lloyd Jonathan Carr. Made it to the College Football Hall of fame. I somewhat regret cheering on his impeccable “way to lose” after seeing a team just straight up lose in legitimate fashion. Still don’t understand punting at the 35. Why come no points, Lloyd?
Detroit Red Wing$: After going down 0-3 to the Shark$, the Wing$ made a valiant effort by forcing a game seven in one of the most highly watched “non-finals” series in NHL history. Just before they dropped the puck in game four, most everyone wanted to do is FIRE BABCOCK, BENCH HOWARD and START OSGOOD. Good thing they didn’t. Fun fact, both teams scored the same amount of goals in 7 games. Go ahead, double check it. It was fun to watch and it seemed to revitalize the whole “Hockey Town” vibe that Metro Detroit and Windsor have. Probably also sold a good amount of Hot & Ready’s too. FIRE ILLICH.
Detroit Tigers: In the spirit of FIRIING EVERYONE, the same goes for Leyland & DUMBrowski. 2 weeks ago, they were all FIRED. Let’s not forget about SENDING DOWN A-JAX. Now, after winning 9 out of 10 and seeing Justin Verlander throw his 2nd no-hitter, the ‘Ger$ are looking to win their division. Although, if they lose to the Red Sox again tonight, FIRE UP THOSE PINK SLIPS.
Lions: They drafted a receiver. HALOL. But I am looking forward to this season. If it happens. Book the Lions +4 over Tampa.
Pistons: Rumors have them setting up an interview with Jimmer Ferdette. HALOL.
MICH: I hear woman’s softball is doing rather well. Dave Brandon is tweeting up a storm about selling tickets at a 30% increase. The Basketball squadron continues to have some hype around future recruits. Glenn Robinson III is moving up the rankings and will hopefully help Beilein’s “ceiling” move up.
MICH FOOTBALL: Brady Hoke is punching other schools in the mouth in recruiting and it’s gotten M$U fans all sorts of butthurt. It’s been rather insane how fast he is picking up 2012 recruits in the state of MICH. Seven total so far with the addition today of Terry Richardson. All of those Seven have been offered by Michigan State, which is clearly leaving Mark Dantonio upset. At least that’s what his twitter account shows. Even the god of Spartan Slappys, Mike Valenti can’t help but make excuses about his coaches recruiting, or lack there of. Good times. Now this past winter isn’t feeling so badt, is it? Well. Maybe it still is for one fella.
Did I miss anything? Probably. At least we got a fresh post.
In light of his apology to Armando and the gracious response of Senor Galarraga, I’d like to mention that my violent feelings of murderous death rage have subsided over the past few hours. The post stands as a monument to the anger that once existed, replaced now by a silent, seething resentment toward this ugly motherfucker and his mistake. But I probably don’t wish painful death upon him. Probably.
According to my MLB profile, my name is Jim Joyce and I’ve been told I may be related to famous author James Joyce. That is appropriate, because he is dead, and I will also be soon. Assuming there is justice in this crazy, mixed-up world. But since I just committed armed robbery on Armando Galaragga’s dream, maybe there isn’t!
Now, I’ve seen the replay. And I’ve seen the end of the game. Sure, I got a rock hard erection from those boo’s raining down on me after I took out my spiked dildo (oh, you see, my penis was removed long ago because I had a dream of someday being a famous lounge singer and the small bulge made my skirt look awkward) and rammed it directly into the anus of every Tiger fan, every baseball fan, fuck, every sports fan watching TV or listening to the radio tonight. Because I am a fat, balding, pock-marked piece of shit with terrible facial hair decisions, I can’t allow you fucks to have a moment of earned glory. But that wasn’t QUITE ENOUGH, no sir, not for my coal black heart. I needed to argue with the players. I needed to assert my DOMINANCE as the UMPIRE no matter how blatantly fucking wrong I fucking was.
So, that my friends, is why I have an open invitation to the destitute and broken souls of Detroit to hunt me down, strip my clothes, beat me about the body with blunt objects, torch my skin with cigarettes, rip my tendons from the bone with infected utensils from grungy diners, choke me with their scabbed genitals, defecate on my crying body, drag my naked shit-covered near comatose body to the Spirit of Detroit, and nail me to a makeshift cross where I shall hang until the last drop of blood has finally fallen on to the unforgiving pavement of the hallowed Detroit streets.
I deserve this, because I am a terrible human being.