EVEN after a night of sleep, I’m still irritated over last night’s Hall of Fame game being called off on account of paint on the ground still being wet. I was already not a fan of the “NFL Hall of Fame” screwing over football purists by becoming the “Tom Benson Hall of Fame”, but I was letting that slide because there would be football. But then that first corn cob in the cornhole was joined by the second corn cobb. It seemed by nights end that the only cob NOT in our collective ass was Kevin Kobb.
So Eagles fans, join me. Let’s all get together and check out the field at the Linc TOMORROW. Just to make sure that all the paint on the ground is nice and dry. Lord knows, the last thing we need is a cancellation of the game because players were afraid that their delicate “wittle tootsies” would slip on something wet.
In fact, let’s just cover the field in dried hay and sandpaper. Oh wait. That might constitute a fire risk. Or even scarier, the risk of a skinned knee!
Remember years ago when they banned dancing to keep from bruising the egos of players who had just sucked at their job? This is just more of that.
Half the time I don’t know what I’m watching anymore. Guys are running around in jewelry, wearing pink, or just full-on being Odell Beckham. I feel like a caveman when I realize that this current crop of game commentators are the last wave of guys who will remember what it was like before QB’s were covered in bubble-wrap prior to games, or the days when a “horse collar” was just called a tackle. (I know, I know, “and the movies were just a nickle…”)
I realize that I can’t protect the game from (Roger Goodell) the sort of (Roger Goodell) man who (Roger Goodell) wouldn’t have the slightest idea of what it means to have to bring down a charging 220 pound RB, or to rush back from injury to make sure his roster spot was still his roster spot. While I can’t protect the sport from that sort of person, I feel like I can at least protect Thursday’s game by making sure that the paint is dry.