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Pop Culture Mess: Sports Wrap-up

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brushed past me. Before the noise died down I slipped through the door and stood before them. The din grew higher momentarily before my eyes told them to sit down, shut up, and listen.

“You’re just boys. Pathetic little boys. Scared. This isn’t a game. This is war. That’s not a football team out there, it’s the VC. It’s Charlie. You’re gonna go into their village, you’re gonna rape their women, you’re gonna kill their babies!” These kids were scared. I had em. “You’re gonna do whatever you have to do to win this war!”

I turned to one kid, looked like the kicker,”You, you little puke, do you use steroids?”

“No sir, no!” he stammered.

“Why the hell not? You wanna be a fuckin loser?” I looked over at Coach Carroll; he had wet himself.

I kept it up for the next five minutes. When I finished, I looked the team over. It’s amazing how much they had grown in the past few minutes. I knew they were ready.

“Okay, guys, teamwork and sportsmanship on three.”

It’s impossible to describe the sense of pride I felt watching those kids perform on the field of battle. Facing an opponent so strong, the mighty Vandals from the University of Idaho, those brave young men, children really, fought and scratched toward their collective destiny. The ultimate result: USC 38 Idaho 10. Only in Hollywood.

I walked out of the stadium, my feet barely touching the ground, and nearly ran over K-Ro.

“What up, bro?” I asked.

“Forget the restaurant opening,” he said, “it’s not happening. Mike Vick’s in jail.”

“Why?”

“Police found a body on his property,” he said, “it was Snoop Dogg.”

“Mother of God!” I said.