A circus is something that is melded into a young child’s head the instant it is witnessed. I had flashbacks yesterday.
I always loved the circus. Looking back at my affection, it must have been because it is unique. There’s nothing like putting up giant tents only to march in gymnasts who have incredible dexterity and strength, and a bunch of trick trained wild animals. Entertaining.
Then there is the NBA. The players are the gymnasts, the owners and David Stern are the trick ponies. We have reached day 134 of the lockout and there are certainly MANY more sports news items I could be clicking away about, and we here at blfc will without a doubt write about them, but I can’t help but go on a slight rant. The following question is posed to everyone who has every worked very hard for their money:
If your livelihood were on the line, and your entire way of life was in jeopardy of changing, wouldn’t you work just as hard to maintain what you had and knew about your job as you did when you were actually performing said job? If you’re anything like me, yes you would.
Then we come to the Thursday meeting which occurred after a “marathon” twelve-hour session on Wednesday. Twelve hours is in no way, shape, or form a marathon as far as a job goes. My normal work day at my other job IS twelve hours. No one shakes their head and congratulates me, no mouths are dropped open, everyone just simply says “When are you here next?” or “See ya tomorrow.” The Friday meeting ended where they ended on all the other 133 days prior to that, agree to disagree, have a meeting to decide on another meeting. AND these assholes are taking Friday off too!
The next news to come from the podium of the cliché riddled NBA player and Union President Mr. Fisher, was that the players and owners have agreed to meet next week. Oh! Well, thank you so very much gentlemen! How gallant of you ALL!
“There’s not enough progress to get a deal done, that’s the disappointing part. We want to get back on the court.” – Derek Fisher
If my job were in limbo for the lack of a better word, I’d at the very least suggest that maybe, just maybe, we work….THROUGH THE WEEKEND! Of course God forbid we over work any of these milli-billi-on-airs. It would seem obscene to think that anyone should care enough to get something done so that most of your work year be preserved. No, they’d rather sit at a table on Monday staring at each other deciding who they’re going to jerk off next. They might as well choose wisely because they all have we the fans by the shaft and they’re jerking as vigorous and rhythmically as they can. I never thought I’d feel this way about a sport I once loved, even having lived through NFL lockouts and an MLB player’s strike.
Well go ahead. Take the weekend off. Keep working your circle jerk around the room. Next to no one cares anymore. Keep having your meetings, keep canceling more and more of the season. I’ll be at the circus.