Becks, Barry, Benoit, Bikes and Vick

I’m astonished at the sports pages these days. I know pro sports is all about the Benjamins and hardly about the competition, but aren’t things getting out of hand?

Let’s start with Becks and Posh. Does anyone really believe that bringing Beckham to LaLa Land is going to suddenly convert all of redneck America into avid soccer fans? Whoever it was that thought there might be justification for writing a $33 MILLION check to this guy in anticipation of future revenues for American soccer teams had to be ingesting some sort of illegal pharmaceuticals.

We’ve had soccer in America for decades. It’s the game suburban kids play on Saturday mornings in large grassy fields behind the mega-mall surrounded by Stepford moms in gas-guzzling behemoths. It teaches “teamwork” and sportsmanship and it’s very inexpensive compared to Pop Warner Football or Little League Baseball. You don’t need a lot of equipment or uniforms. Simple shorts, T-shirts and shoes are pretty much it. Oh, yeah, you need one of those black and white volleyball things too. It’s perfect for the ultra-lib set because you don’t have a lot of contact or bruising. Nobody scores very often, so there’s not a lot of damage to self-esteem by keeping score. And, the chubby kid can play goalie so he doesn’t need to run around too much.

But beyond tiring the brats out for the weekend, nobody really cares much about soccer. They didn’t forty years ago, they didn’t twenty years ago and they don’t today. Watching a bunch of guys run around a pasture for ninety minutes without hitting each other or scoring isn’t exciting television for us. Having a referee in short pants hand out little colored cards for infractions and writing a name down in a notebook is nowhere near as exciting as third-and-long with fourteen seconds to play and a four point deficit. It doesn’t have the visceral joy of seeing a power play in the third period as your star center is in the penalty box with blood streaming down his face. No, there’s not much appeal to soccer in America.

So, we’ve got this big paycheck for Becks and Posh. We’ve got a TV special for Posh to coo about life in America and we’ve got dinner parties for the couple hosted by Tom-Kat and all of the Hollyweird glitterati. Then we’ve got THE game, but poor Becks has got a sore ankle—didn’t they do a physical on this clown like an NFL team would for an aging quarterback? Becks plays ten minutes, the game is lost one-zip and there’s reinforcement that this isn’t going to be the Next-Big-Thing in American sports.

Meanwhile in San Francisco we’ve got the Bonds watch. There’s this Hulkamaniac, all bulked up on clear and cream and human growth hormone, waddling to the plate to swat a ball out of the park and break a record for career home runs set by a gentleman without the aid of chemicals using only his God-given talent a few decades ago. Frankly, I don’t care. Bonds can hit a million home runs and the record will always be tainted. Give me Ruth and Aaron. Hell, give me Pete Rose.

Could all sports be headed the way of pro wrestling? Until a few weeks ago we thought it was simply escapist entertainment. But, how harmless can it be when the plot for the show revolved around the chairman of the “sport” being supposedly murdered in a bombing that blew up his white stretch limo? Is this what we want to teach our kids? Reality intruded and real people got killed when one of the stars in an alleged “roid-rage” incident wiped out his wife, kids and himself. Hardly the role-modeling we should want for our ten year olds whether the fiction or the real life drama.

We could seek escape by turning to Europe where the Tour de France is wending its way through the countryside. No Lance Armstrong this year, so we find it hard to cheer for a Yank particularly after last year’s discredited victor. Each day we see who wears the yellow jersey and get new allegations of doping. Isn’t there any place that’s going to teach us that fair play, hard work, dedication and grit will get us through life? What does sport teach us these days?

Maybe basketball? Ooopss. Nope. How can you trust a sport played by seven foot oddities and controlled by referees with a couple of large riding on the outcome against the spread? Probably reinforces your kid’s distrust of authority and unwillingness to submit to justice.

At least there’s football. All we need to confirm our faith is for the NFL to summarily suspend Michael Vick for his disgusting after-hours activities at his mansion. Don’t start with that “innocent until proven guilty” business. That’s about the law, this is about the reputation of the sport. If the league is to be consistent in their expressed determination to bring responsibility back it must act against Vick, a franchise player, as it has against the secondary collection of thugs and miscreants it has fined and suspended so far. One can only hope.