The wacky world of sports
With respect for professional athletes at
an all-time low, and in light of this year’s lacklustre
year in sports (uh... Go Marlins!... what?), The Gazette looks
into its crystal ball to prognosticate the year ahead:
Kobe Bryant’s cell mate accuses him of rape: First,
the poor, maligned hoopster loses his shot at another championship,
and now this. Don’t worry, Kobe — the rest of your
millions will keep “Big Vic’s” settlement
paid long after he leaves jail.
Mike Tyson buys the Neverland Ranch: Jacko’s assured
us he’s not going back to Neverland, after it was tainted
by investigators. Once Iron Mike wins his lawsuit against Don
King he’ll use the spoils to climb the socio-economic
ladder. After all, even Tyson realizes great snacks are better
Slamkey: Faced with equally low TV ratings, the NHL and Slamball
join forces to create a new super-sport. Even after replacing
the boards with spring-loaded rubber mats and making Anna Kournikova
the first and only draft pick, the league only outlasts the
XFL by about four hours.
Michael Jordan retires... part IV: No. 23 decides to come
back, but having to keep buzzing the white stubble on his melon
becomes too much of a distraction to carry on. In an unrelated
story, people remember the Washington Wizards exist, but don’t
Gary Bettman completes his transformation into a troll: After
watering down the NHL’s talent pool and generally just
fucking up the sport, Bettman puts a new face on the league
executive. The NHL’s new sponsor... Hair Club for Men.
Remember Marv Albert?...
Don Cherry says something offensive: In addition to this,
water will be wet, the sun will rise tomorrow, grass will grow
and the Leafs won’t escape the first round...
New NFL touchdown celebrations: The Dirty Bird and the Throat-Slash
were good; the autograph and the cell phone were better; but
this year, prepare to be blown away. Prostitutes in the end
zone will completely burn the other team, changing the red
zone into the “red light zone,” with players like
Eugene Robinson suddenly inspired to score.
Joe Namath’s renaissance: Santa Claus is getting on
in years and who better to carry the sporting world through
future festive seasons than this “cheerful” Hall
of Famer? No apology necessary, Joe — you’ll always
have Super Bowl III.