I need to be a sports writer
Sports writers must have it made. These have to be the most pampered people in the universe. They must spend their entire lives being waited on hand and foot, and being entertained, and eating only the best foods, and living in paradise, because it has to be such a huge step down going to the Super Bowl.
One of the reasons I started this blog was the media's reaction to the Super Bowl in J'ville last year. I wanted a place to rant about it. In my usual procrastination though, it was March before I did anything about it and by then, the Super Bowl was long gone. The media was going to parties, eating fresh shrimp and playing golf at Sawgrass and you'd have thought they were sent to hell from the bitching and moaning and whining being done. This was the most awful place in the world. What was the NFL thinking? There weren't enough five star hotel rooms within a two minute walk of the stadium and the (free) shrimp was cold, and so was the (free) scotch, and I had to pull out my windbreaker because it rained, and I had to take a cab for a 20 minute drive to find a dry cleaner to get the garlic butter off my sport coat, and that cab driver spoke with a southern accent so I couldn't understand him, and...on and on and on.
Now it's Detroit's turn, and again the whiners are out in force. It's cold, and I had to get a hotel room in another county, and my shorts are too tight, and I ordered medium rare, and where's my Cristal, and...damn.
Tony Kornheiser (and the other cronies like you). I want to be you. Super Bowl week, people are bending over backward (and forward) to make you happy, and for you to still be that miserable, the other 50 weeks of the year, your life must be amazing.
One of the reasons I started this blog was the media's reaction to the Super Bowl in J'ville last year. I wanted a place to rant about it. In my usual procrastination though, it was March before I did anything about it and by then, the Super Bowl was long gone. The media was going to parties, eating fresh shrimp and playing golf at Sawgrass and you'd have thought they were sent to hell from the bitching and moaning and whining being done. This was the most awful place in the world. What was the NFL thinking? There weren't enough five star hotel rooms within a two minute walk of the stadium and the (free) shrimp was cold, and so was the (free) scotch, and I had to pull out my windbreaker because it rained, and I had to take a cab for a 20 minute drive to find a dry cleaner to get the garlic butter off my sport coat, and that cab driver spoke with a southern accent so I couldn't understand him, and...on and on and on.
Now it's Detroit's turn, and again the whiners are out in force. It's cold, and I had to get a hotel room in another county, and my shorts are too tight, and I ordered medium rare, and where's my Cristal, and...damn.
Tony Kornheiser (and the other cronies like you). I want to be you. Super Bowl week, people are bending over backward (and forward) to make you happy, and for you to still be that miserable, the other 50 weeks of the year, your life must be amazing.
John put this out here at 9:34 AM
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