Weekly Hypothetical – Can Baseball Overtake The NFL?
My mother was diagnosed with shingles, recently. For those of you who don’t know, shingles is a rash that develops on the body and often results in extreme pain on and around the effected area. The disease is actually called Herpes Zoster, which means I will be able to extract some revenge once my mom is feeling better.
When I was a teenager, I had my share of zits and blemishes. Nothing major, just normal stuff. Whenever I went out in public with my mom, however, these zits became the subject of a heated debate.
Mom: Greg, what is that near your lip? Is that herpes?
Me: Mom! Don’t say that!
Mom: What? It’s nothing to be ashamed of, just herpes.
Me: It’s called a cold sore, mom, not herpes. And I don’t have one. It’s just a zit.
Mom: But IT IS HERPES! Cold sores are herpes simplex. YOU HAVE HERPES!
Me: MOM! Keep quiet!
Mom: I just want to know if you have herpes! Why should I keep quiet?
Me: BECAUSE EVERYONE IN THIS COUNTY NOW THINKS I HAVE A SEXUALLY TRANSMITTED DISEASE, DAMMIT!
Mom: Oh, don’t be ridiculous. It’s just a little herpes.
Me: I DON’T HAVE HERPES!
The crowd of smoking hot babes that has magically appeared: Look at that guy. He has herpes!
Me: Wonderful, thanks mom.
Mom: I don’t see what the big deal is.
Me: Oh, really? HEY MOM, HOW’S THAT WICKED CASE OF SYPHILIS COMING ALONG?
Mom: (frantic whisper) I do not have syphilis. Keep your voice down! I am so embarrassed!
Me: The prosecution rests.
So, you know, I’m gonna take that herpes zoster to the motherfucking bank!
Nice use of makeup, Miley, but you can't fool my mom: You have HERPES!
On to our weekly hypothetical, which comes from reader Frankalot who has apparently been hitting the prescription cough syrup again:
MLB? Or NFL? Why can’t MLB beat it out? (heh).
Thanks for the email, Frankalot. I’ll be sure to tell your ward attendant you somehow obtained internet access. Once translated to Human-speak, this is not a bad question. The NFL is undoubtedly the most popular sport in the United States, with our national past-time lagging behind. On the heels of what some people have claimed is one of the most exciting World Series of all time (and what I, as a Cubs fan, like to call a case of a bunch of syphilitic dog-rammers falling ass-end into a title) you have to wonder, what can baseball do to overtake the NFL and become the number one sport in America again?
Baseball has two problems, the first of which is that there is way, way too much of it. 162 regular season games, 20 or 30 pre-season games, and a minimum of 11 more games in the post-season for the ultimate winner. That means that during roughly 55% of your life, baseball is in season. And each game of that season takes as long as the Nixon presidency. This is because a baseball game is broken down like this:
- Pitcher staring at the catcher: 32%
- Batter stepping out of the batter’s box: 15%
- Batter fiddling with his nuts on national television: 23%
- Coach discussing vital matters with the pitcher such as whether or not the batter plays with his nuts a little too much, you know what I mean?: 17%
- Pitching change: 12%
- Actual baseball: 1%
This movie could have been 20 times longer, and it still would've been more interesting than baseball.
Ok, you want to make baseball appeal to non-comatose fans? 100 game seasons, and a rule mandating that each game be completed in two and a half hours or everyone has to make sweet, sweet love to the wrong end of a baseball bat.
The second problem is that baseball is for pussies. Now before you write me nasty emails telling me what a dick I am for saying that, and that you play baseball yourself, let me just say this: I understand where you’re coming from, Miss. But really, comparing baseball to football is like comparing hopscotch to competitive neck-snapping. There’s no comparison. And don’t give me this whole, “Baseball players fight too!” bullshit. Looky here:
You want to introduce the element of danger into baseball? Plant one hidden land mine in the outfield for each game. Allow runners to be tagged out with the ball or the bat. And let the pitchers choose one pitch during the game where they can throw a live hand grenade instead of a baseball. And for the love of god, please bring back Morganna:
Well, we can bring back Morganna, but only if she doesn’t have herpes.
Sorry, I have no useful input for sports stuff (Unless it’s a good sport, like basketball or boxing), so I skimmed. I’ve never heard of Morganna, but wow, look at those things bounce!
Hope your mom feels better soon.
Vesta, how well do you think you’re going to do on the quiz if you just skim?
Oh shit, there’s a quiz? Can I copy off you?
For you, Vesta, I’ll give you the answer key:
A
D
C
The War of 1812
Things that end in “ation”
pi times Your age
That’s what she said
I grok, You grok, He/She/It groks
Rectum? Damn near killed him!
All the money in my wallet.
My dear sir, I have two words that trump Professional football every time: Rally Monkey.
http://youtu.be/EmfE4KAZicY
and at 24 seconds: http://youtu.be/f2yKUpL1zVI
and at 35 seconds: http://youtu.be/NWZI9X5vbqU
Rally Monkey Forever.
Also Baseball is infinitely more interesting if you learn how to watch pitches, but Hockey trumps ALL!!!!
The Gods of WordPress are onto you, Juice. Instead of publishing your comment, it asked me to moderate it.
With you 100% on hockey. As for baseball, NOTHING beats drinking in the bleachers at Wrigley Field. NOTHING.
I saw that, you know OWP, more than 2 links and askimet’s panties bunch like its on a picnic with Sam Rubin in a Dress.
ps- I spent a summer being molested/trained by co workers in Chicago. I escaped in many an afternoon saying I was going to the law library and heading to Wrigley. BEST SUMMER AFTERNOONS EVER!
I’ve drank a fuckton of beer in every imaginable situation, and I’ve never encountered anything like the bleachers in Wrigley. For someone who has never been there, there is no describing it.
I see your baseball, and I raise you cricket…
5 days a single match can go for… and it can easily end in a fucking draw
Yeah, good call.
When I was in college (uh oh, one of those stories), a park we hung out in was home to that rarest of North American phenomenon: cricket. The people playing it were very friendly and would go out of their way to welcome spectators and explain the game. And it made zero sense. We were all clueless, and when it became apparent that this game would be going on all day, we left.
Then one time we all showed up on acid and stayed for 6 1/2 hours. We totally understood it (or so we thought) and gave them shit when they suspended the game in favor of resuming it the next day. They didn’t know whether to be happy that they finally had some fans, or scared because of the obvious freaks that were confronting them.