Thursday, November 10, 2011

I hate you, too!

See, I have a little brother who plays Div-1 college football.  This means that every Saturday for the past few months I have been able to click on the tv, tune in to a sports channel, and see my brother's handsome face.  This still blows my mind, and is simultaneously thrilling and surreal.  It is especially awesome since I haven't been able to see that handsome face in person since last Christmas.

Here is what isn't awesome: seeing Brother Handsome having a bad day.  A bad day in front of 60,000 physically present people and an untold number of tv viewers.  Seeing a coach screaming at Brother Handsome, seeing Brother Handsome sitting on the sidelines with face in hands and hearing the announcer describe repeatedly how Brother Handsome screwed up.  Or how about the headlines that follow in major newspapers nationwide?  Good news: Brother Handsome, your name is in almost every major newspaper you've ever heard of.  Bad news: they don't have nice things to say.

It is positively heart-breaking when this happens.  It is depressing for the whole family to see Brother Handsome's big dreams turn into this.  I have to remind myself that if losing a football game is the worst thing that happens to Brother Handsome then he'll have had a pretty charmed life.

Still it is sad.  And making voo-doo dolls for all those sports writers really digs into what little personal time I have left.  Which is why I finally had to step back and be at peace with the fact that when Brother Handsome has a bad week he's going to take crap for it.  I can maintain my pleasant and cheery demeanor those weeks by not reading any sports articles.  After all, unlike Brother Handsome, I don't have a field to take all my rage and aggression to.

What I cannot accept is the crap that is still dished out when he is, in fact, having a fantastic week.  When almost every major newspaper gives him the props he deserves but a few key publications still give him the most luke-warmish of praise, sprinkled with more back handed insults.

To those publications, to those sports writers, I have one thing to say: I will always have time for your voo doo dolls.

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