ESPN Sportscenter: Horny Goat Weed back in Stock
Horny Goat Weed returns to the ESPN Sportscenter family…
Quienes tu Papa?
We all know a friend who has the cutest little dog; until that certain fuzzy pillow or furry squirrel toy appears…
The mere sight of their obsession (my neighbors pug knocks boots with a mini-football… no Barry White required) turns little “Puffermuffins” into a 12 pound ball of gyrating canine nookie, incapable of thought past that of R. Kelly at a senior prom.
As the moth returns to the flame, Tiger Woods Playing in the Masters returns a warm fuzzy leg for Sportscenter to madly hump. Like a crank addicted OCD case in the Dr. Drew files, the addiction AND obligatory self-loathing play out publicly; under the intense glare of the 242,914 kilowatt Sportscenter set. Even now in an era when “color” in sports generally describes benign things like the hideous nature of Miami Dolphins Aqua & Orange, the mere sight of a black guy hitting a ball with a stick appears to send ESPN into a “bom chicka wah wah” tizzy, rivaled only by that of a Bon Jovi groupie backstage on ecstasy.
So smitten is ESPN with all things Tiger Woods, you may actually think nobody else even teed it up at Augusta. Did they???
I Guess variety is not the spice of life...
As noted in a previous ESPN-OCD post, the editor who snuck a Padraig Harrington segment into Sportscenter (screen capture at left) was swiftly terminated with cause for grossly straying from Sportscenter’s mission statement. In clear violation of Policy & Procedure code (PP 947.2, subsection 6c) which clearly states: “If it bleeds or misdeeds it leads.” addendum A: a minimum of 89.2% of air time must be dedicated to drama involving the specific words “Tiger, Manny, A-rod, Favre, or Yankee-Sox” hereto collectively referred to as “the Precious.”
If Bob Beamon’s record Wasn’t Safe…
Long before Tiger parlayed flirting with the history of Nicklaus into a direct assualt on Chamberlain held territory, there was ESPN docudrama’ing his every range ball. Though ESPN was scooped that infamous night at the Woods mansion, catching wind of El Tigre taking aim at the Big Dipper while watching “When psycho chicks with 9-irons attack” on sister show TMZ.
The worst part of this, I actually come out of this liking Tiger more. You see I’ve wanted to hate him, and have for some time. It wasn’t him per se, its just that I’ve hated “prodigies” in general since “tennis mom” and Todd & Marv Marinovich entered our lexicon. Now we find out Tiger is simply fucking human. Tigers humanity will deprive me of my dislike. I crave the yang of genuine disdain to balance the ying of my rooting interests, even in chummy old golf. Could I really love the Raiders as much without the Nitrous Oxide like added intensity of detesting the Donkeys? Bring on the Biff Elway and Shanirat NOS baby.
We will leave it to you gentle readers how best to summarize the symbolism of the picture below. Bow-wow-wow-yippeee-oh-yippee-aye Tiger….
