For anyone that peruses Deadspin, you may’ve seen my list of things for which I am thankful over there yesterday. It was supposed to come out in paragraphs and such, but sometimes shit just doesn’t go right. This is how it was supposed to read:
As a kid growing up in a town with only one sport, I was forced to find my allegiances elsewhere. Sure, Miami’s got the Dolphins — the greatest football team. They take the ball from goal to goal… eh, never mind — but my dad was a Jets fan, and that shit wouldn’t fly. So, I thought long and hard, and eventually decided to just pick teams at random. This is how it wound up:
Needless to say, the 90’s beat the shit outta’ me. Jeffrey Maier kneed me in the stomach, Eugene Robinson punched me in the face and the Detroit Red Wings kept delivering the swift kick to the nuts to finish me off. John Starks took his shots, too, but — wait for it — they all missed. After Y2K, I learned to appreciate a 40% winning percentage, because, well, that was about as good as it would get. Michael Vick, Isiah Thomas, the Post-Cal Ripken Era and the departure of every single recognizable member of the Hawks (The Wings? Serioulsy, Chris?) left me in ruins. I’ve been completely tormented. Until now. This year it’s different. I have reason to be hopeful. And thankful. Here is the Smoot list:
Jonathan Toews, Patrick Kane, 25 points and second place in the division. Ever since Roenick and Amonte left, this team hasn’t felt right. Finally, I feel like there’s an upside.
Anyone but Isiah. While the Knicks are still a terribly crappy team disguised as a merely mediocre one, there is hope. Not because I believe LeBron is coming, or that the new regime has a firm grasp on things. Nope. Addition by subtraction, and that suicidal fuck skull is finally out. The least you could’ve done was get that one right, jackass.
Matt Ryan and whatever glue-like substance Roddy White is applying to his hands. I really did like Michael Vick. And maybe it was false hope. Maybe it was delusion. But I’m over it now. Roddy White can finally catch, and Ryan isn’t skipping the ball 7 yards in front of him. See you on the Lions next year, Mike.
The Florida Marlins. This year, I finally caved and traded in my American League team for the hometown, NL East dog. And they didn’t disappoint. Truthfully, I never even think about the O’s anymore. It was like dating a girl for 3 years, dumping her, meeting someone new and then realizing that you were living a lie the entire time you were with the other girl. Oh, and the sex is better.
Deadspin. Because none of my guy friends give a shit about sports. Last year, during a suicide pool conversation, my roommate actually said to me, “The NFL season is 13 weeks long, right?” He fucking won. I hate him. I love you guys.
Finally, I’m grateful for the Female Smoot. She puts up with me, and that, in itself, is an amazing feat.
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