Movin’ on Down or How I Learned to Embrace My ESPNnesses
As a listener to late night radio, I’m familiar with UFO sightings, ghosts and the always popular Bigfoot. So when I see ESPN, first thing I think is: Hey! a whole network devoted to the paranormal. I found the local ESPN station and tuned in, settling back with some coffee for some good old X Files style talk.
After a few segments in which some guys who seemed to be older than college age, drooled all over some other old guy they gushingly called coach, I realized, much to my chagrin, this was NOT the Extra Sensory Perception Network! It was apparently a whole programming day, 7 days a week, dedicated to worshipping athletes and anybody ( part ) attached to them.
I might have skipped the part where the station I was listening to, used to be a place I was previously employed. But my bitterness has almost nothing to do with ESPN per se. It does have quite a bit to do with the kind of personality currently working in sports radio. Let it please the court to note here: I no longer have the energy to take on the rest of talk radio. Sports radio might be an easy target, but it’s a deserving one.
Several years ago during the Presidents Day holiday, I tuned into FOX Sports Radio. There was a host who was reviling Abraham Lincoln as a former slave holder. Now, I admit, I haven’t read every thing on Abe, but I was reasonably sure, whatever else he purportedly did regarding slavery, he never owned any. This was around the time some writer published some historical letters suggesting Lincoln was gay. All in all, Mr. Lincoln was having his worst year since 1865.
That’s when I started to be aware that most sports talk hosts were morons. One of my favorite things they do is add the suffix -ness to any word. Just recently one clown upped the ante. Count ’em: harshnessesses. And if one more doofus says pronounce–iation when attempting to pronounce the word pronunciation, I will go Jack Nicholson on his domus dumbass. Good golly Miss Molly, that’s just sheer stupidness!
I know a Bachelor’s degree ain’t what it used to be. You don’t need any more proof that a college education is no indication of smarts, than to know I’ve dated women with doctorates. It’s a pay grade now, just like other career paths, like the military and government. It’s the $ difference between favorite son and redheaded stepchild in the will.
So, an ex-jock with a BA from Notre Dame is the equivalent, well, of another ex-jock with a BA from say, Hooters U. Any day now, the next generation of sports-talk host will be former pro stars who left high school early to sign with the NBA and get huge shoe endorsement deals from Nike. The harshnessesses of their speech and opinions will be scarifying.
I fully expect one day to tune in to a sports talk show and hear the story of how President Lincoln Hayes lll ( post Mod Squad ) made the players free agents while dry cleaning magnate Tom ” Bill O’ Rights ” Jefferson ( he had red hair! ) sexed Weezy and never married her. Their son, Michael Jordan Jefferson however, rose above his traumatic childhood to a lucrative career in hoops and has a Lincoln Continental SUV in every color. AND, like he really needs the extra cake, a talk show in my old time slot.
MY ESPN would’ve seen it comin’! Did I mention stupidness?