Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Let Me Tell You A Story

It’s a sports story- classic and patriotic: A gutty, ragtag group of American athletes venture into a dark, isolated land run by fanatical zealots. For the populace of this barren and backward place, allegiance to their sports team is simply an extension of the conformist hive-mentality that permeates their dull day to day existence. In this oppressed, benighted land the games aren’t just an athletic competition but a chance to demonstrate the superiority of their ideology over the foreign invaders’ concepts of “liberty” and “freedom.” For the young visitors, they will have to overcome a hostile environment, corrupt game officials, and their own personal demons and disagreements if they hope to win a victory for democracy and the American way!
This is what it means when the Lakers visit the Salt Lakeiban. The Lakers represent the Land of the Free- a place where you can drink a tequila shot out of the belly button of a stripper and spit the lime into Newport Bay. The Jazz represent Utahistan- a place where coffee and R-rated movies are smuggled across the desert like bibles into North Korea.

If you like to recall politicians like you’re calling an ex at 11:00pm on a Friday, the Lakers are your team. If you prefer to have your deacon tell you how to vote and what underwear to wear, you follow the Jazz. Worry that The Gays are going to pull you from your home and force you to marry one of them? You’re a Jazz fan! Worry that if your plane is forced to land at Provo, you’ll have to trade sexual favors to member of the VFW in order to get a drink? Bust out the Purple & Gold car flag!
But I digress.

You see my story has a happy ending. One of these days, after the Lakers get done beating the Jazz like Marie Osmond during her first marriage, I see Phil Jackson taking to center court with a microphone, surrounded by the hushed reverence and awe of thousands of Jazz fans. He’ll deliver a speech eerily reminiscent of the “We all can change” monologue from the end of Rocky IV, a translator conveniently close by to echo his words in whatever sort of language they speak there. Then, even the Snuggle Fabric Softener Bear Mascot Thing will be moved to deliver a standing slow clap. Sometime later, a visitor to Salt Lake will notice that the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Jesus portraits all over town have been altered to look just a little more like a certain aging hippy NBA coach. That will be a new dawn of freedom, my friends. And judging by the amount of pay-per-view porn they consume in Utah, it’ll be here sooner than you think.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

The radio flyer ATW's axles are greased, the lawn chairs packed, ice chest 409'd and sunblock is poised for the parade. 9th and Fig perhaps?
Bring your axe and we'll play some blues for the losers.

Paddyoski

THN said...

Wow. All of the prairie dogs are laying low for this one. Nobody wants a piece. Well done, Hatriot.

But when you get TBO out and running, that's a good thing. Not a bad thing. A good thing.

THN said...

BTW, my previous word dealie was Presse ... as in the freedom they would like to take away in Utah.

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