An angry letter I wrote to the world this morning, inspired by the gajillions of people that crammed into Chicago for a rally:
Dear Blackhawks fans,
Just because you have waited a tortured, arduous THREE YEARS since your team's last championship doesn't give you the right to be a gaggle of gooseshits.
Honestly, it doesn't even feel like you're doing this for the love of hockey, it feels like you're just acting like a bag of dicks because you think Chicagoans are supposed to act like a bag of dicks. This isn't a cock measuring contest, it's a celebration. This is about pride and love and a battle well fought.
I used to love sports. Did you know that? LOVE. Never was athletic, but I tried as hard as I could to be the best that I could. It was fun. I loved hockey, I loved baseball. I used to follow horse racing religiously. Lately nostalgia's been working overtime and I'm thinking I should get back into racing, but...it can be incredibly depressing. When an average of 1200 horses are euthanized on the track each year due to injury, probably cuz they're all jacked up on painkillers so they keep running even after they shatter their own bones - I mean, that's what made me stop watching in the first place. Hell, that's why Luck was cancelled. People kept on murdering horses out of mercy.
Then again, the danger makes it exciting. Exciting and terrifying and depressing.
Whatever, so at one point everything switched in my brain and I stopped caring about sports. At one point sports became a burden instead of a hobby. Don't remember when. But at one point everything stopped being fun.
DON'T THINK I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO FEEL JOY.
But this? Crazy fans running around this city in a wasted stupor because you think you're supposed to? This isn't joy. This is a mockery of it. This is just a bunch of fucking clowns walking around douching each other and then arguing about whether they're better at douching than all the other doucheclowns.
Am I so jaded, or are they so deluded?
I guess it's inevitable that I would change. I'm not talking about the old days, I'm talking about what it takes to feel joy.
Last week, Jessica and I just took a ten-day road trip through eight states. Someday we will talk about how much I loved South Dakota. I think, this summer, I'm going to do a post a week about things I love.
We stopped at a place called Pioneer Village, a museum of America's history and rapid industrialization, fashioned by adventurist and plastics mogul Harold Warp who is, officially, my new hero.
Pre-Pioneer Village, we drove and discussed humanity's priorities and how they've shifted throughout the ages between third and second and first world nations. In the past humans felt differently about death because they were surrounded by it - we died at a younger age, most people killed animals routinely for food, etc. Progress and industry shifted first world humanity's priorities completely: survival is no longer a need. It's an interest. The immediate question is not "how will we live?" it's "do we like how we live?"
The next day we detoured from our route for a few hours over to Pioneer Village, where we were introduced to Harold Warp, Colossal Collector, and hanging above our heads was a sign with a Warp quote that I will now totally paraphrase because I can't exactly remember it -
Man first fights for the right to survive,
then the right to create art,
then the right for power.
Which is what I was trying to say but way better.
When I was younger, sports were art. For me, of course. I can't speak for the world. This isn't a hokey, "back in my day things meant something" post, because today IS my day, as are all the days after and before, from birth to death, so that saying makes no sense. But I've grown as a person, and my perception has changed.
So again: When I was younger, sports were art.
Now that I see them as a quest for power, I've lost interest. I don't give a shit who wins. I just want to marvel at a thought well-created, an action well-executed.
And that is why all you fucking Blackhawks fans annoyed the fuck out of me this morning.