More Pointless Dialogue: Watching Sports

"Turn this shit off," I say.

"Why?"

"I can't stand to listen to these assholes. They don' know what the fuck they're talkin' about."

"Dude," he says, "there's nothing else on."

"Anything's better than this shit. I just can't stand the little smartass commentary after every fuckin' play."

"It's ESPN. They're supposed to do that."

"I don't give a crap," I say. "These fuckin' guys piss me off with that shit."

"Why?"

"'Cause they're fuckin' idiots, that's why."

"So turn the sound down, asshole."

"You think either one of these two little pricks knows what it feels like to get hit like that?" I ask. "I mean, what the fuck? Where do they get off makin' little fuckin' comments like that?"

"That's what they get paid for."

"Listen. My thing about sports is that guys like that have no fucking idea what it feels like to get hit by one of those guys, so it pisses me off when they start mouthin' off about it."

"What the fuck do you care?" he asks.

"I don't, but it goes back to what I'm always sayin' about people not havin' a clue about what it takes to be a professional athlete."

"Like you do?"

"Yeah, I do. You know damned fuckin' well I spent a lotta years gettin' my ass kicked by guys who eventually did."

"So?"

"So," I say, "sports are brutal. You know what it's like, even in non-contact sports like basketball? Go on a court with some NBA guys and see what that's like. It's like the court ain't even big enough."

"What does that have to do with ESPN?"

"It means you don't know your ass from your elbow until you've been there at least once. Tried to hit a major league fastball. Tried to tackle an NFL running back. Squared off with a real fighter. You don't know. Do you have any fuckin' idea how much force these guys produce?"

"I can imagine," he says.

"Yeah. You can imagine. But you don't know. You've got no fuckin' clue how fast these guys can move from a stopped position into moving full speed, and how much that fuckin' hurts when you're the guy gets nailed by it."

"So? It's entertainment."

"No, it's bullshit. Think about what Byron Leftwich did in college, playin' that fuckin' game on a broken leg. You know how hard that shit is to do on two good legs? And yeah, sure, it's a heartwarming story to see a guy lead the team down the field on a broken leg, but a broken leg fuckin' hurts, dude. You wouldn'ta wanted to be him, trust me."

"Yeah," he says, "but now he's makin' ten million a year, so he should be able to take it if some little wiseass on ESPN cracks a few jokes about him."

"Okay, well, now you're gettin' off into how much money they make, which definitely gives people the right to give these guys some crap."

"See?"

"See, what?" I ask. "I didn't say I agreed with it. You see a guy get in a boxing ring and get knocked the fuck out, and it still bothers me to see some little pencilneck fuck with glasses on bein' all snide about it. I know it's a fuckin' cliche, but you know what? Get your pussy ass in the ring yourself and see what that feels like, y'know?"

"I agree with that."

"How can you not? I mean, you remember how it was when I was playin', right? I was a big, bad motherfucker, and yet I still went out and got my ass kicked more often than I didn't, right?"

"Sometimes," he replies.

"Seriously, though. You guys looked at me, back then, and said, 'This guy's freakin' huge, and he does nothing but train, and I can't imagine anyone being any better,' but there were still tons of guys out there who ran me over like a fuckin' freight train."

"I never really said that, but okay. Have your moment."

"And you know why that surprised everyone? When I didn't go out and just maul people?"

"'Cause you sucked?"

"No," I reply. "It's 'cause none of you ever played at that level, so I was your only point of reference, and you had no idea what else was out there. So when some guy came out and put me on rollerskates, it was a shock, because people who never played just don't know. You can't."

"This why you drink so much?" he asks.

"Probably."

"You're a bitter, bitter man."

"At least," I reply, "I ain't a smartass pussy. I'd rather fuckin' be broke."