Football No Mo'

 For the first time since about 1968 or so, I did not watch the Superbowl. I didn’t watch a  single NFL game all season, for that matter. Why not? ‘Cause it ain’t football anymore, especially after  this past year of COVID/take-a-knee/virtue signaling. It has morphed into some American/European soccer hybrid. With pads.

The wussification began with the three foot rule on wide receivers that Commissar Godawful imposed back, what, five, six years ago? They got rid of the horse collar. And blind side tackles. And anything else that resembled football. Now, if you look at the quarterback cross eyed you get a fifty yard penalty, loss of your next six touchdowns, half your salary taken, and your entire team goes to rehab. Which they’re usually in, anyway.

And then there’s all the baffling rules about a catch and a fumble and what the ground can, or cannot do, and challenges, with more red flags flying than a Chicom picnic, and you need an attorney and about ten minutes of review by the Supreme Court before you can call, or not call, a penalty. God help you if you take a step towards the quarterback while he’s posing back there and casually deciding which of his many untouchable receivers he can pitch to.

But, but, but...the game is now safer!

Safer? Safer! This is FOOTBALL!

Or it used to be. It’s a girly shadow of itself now, which I suppose is appropriate because today’s football players are girly shadows of their forerunners. Whining and simpering over social justice as they pocket unbelievable salaries to play a once-or-twice a week game that doesn’t even require them to have a real education. Which, based on the general inarticulateness and illogic, most of them don’t. They don’t even have to worry about getting hurt anymore. Especially if they’re a quarterback.

And if you think I’m going to watch a bunch of spoiled ingrates take a knee over something they can’t even explain while mouthing bumper sticker complaints about a country so terrible it gives halfwit pituitary cases like them a grand opportunity to make millions instead of working as a bouncer for their cousin’s illegal backyard bar, then no. Never again. Screw the NFL.

I’m going to watch golf, instead. At least it’s full contact.