Nerds on Sports

Since I’m a no-good, unimaginative hack, I am going to take the same questions Serpico answered, and answer them myself. This isn’t the first time I’ve done something like this. But before I get into the letters, I have to get something off of my chest.

The New York Football Giants are a terrible football team. Ever since Serpico was a wee lad, the giants have been terrible. Remember in 1995 when the Patriots were terrible. They were a 6-10 team, but the Giants were worse — 5-11. Or how about 1997 when both the Patriots and the Giants won their respective divisions. The Giants were worse due to losing in the wild card round.

All I’m saying is that Serpico doesn’t like terrible teams — He actually stopped caring about baseball when the Yankees didn’t have the best record in baseball this year. How can I prove it? He had to email me on the deadline to fix his fantasy baseball lineup for a playoffs week. So I have an answer for Serpico: Follow the Patriots. You are a fair weather fan and we all know it. Just find the biggest band wagon, grab your instrument, and hop on.

Now for the actual questions. Read more »

“So, Bill, I was thinking about getting some [favorite NFL Team] Season Tickets.”

“Oh yeah, Rob, that sounds amazing. What a great idea. Eight games worth of excitement in [favorite NFL Team's home stadium], getting first crack at playoff seats, great parking. Yeah, awesome. Just, you know, let me know in thirty years when you actually get them. Christ, why the flying hell would you want to put yourself on a seventy thousand person waiting list just so that your unborn son can inherit your place in line when you die? I sure hope you like getting a letter every year from [the owner of favorite NFL Team] saying that you moved up five spots and are only a few decades away. If you need me, I’ll be watching the games in my warm living room. What an idiot.”

*thirty years later*

“They finally came, Bill. They’re finally here. I will be going to the [favorite NFL Team's new home stadium, built in 2025 and sponsored by a multi-planetary corporation] for every home game from now on!”

“I can’t believe it, Rob. The wait just flew by. Hey, want any company.”

“Go to hell, Bill. Enjoy the games from your living room.” Read more »

I can’t help but feel like Col. Kurtz, having journeyed these final 17 games into the dreadful jungle, the gnarled heart of darkness, only to find the inescapable truth that there is no prize, no joy, indeed nothing but horror in the end. Here, horror that a team filled with promise should implode so thoroughly; horror that a cadre of players in a superstitious sport would…not…shut…up; horror that the season is truly, completely, and chillingly over on October 1.

I don’t think I have anything particularly clever or meaningful to add to the conversation surrounding the 2007 Mets’ unseemly demise, but neither did the local tabloids. Nobody could, really, because this kind of collective numbed silence invites only further silence. Pictures of dejected fans, splashy oh-cruel-world headlines, and calls for the head of Willie Randolph are just so much noise in the ether. The silence is blistering.

The horror is all that remains.

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