The Enemies List Presents: The End Of The Hate
Posted on | March 28, 2010 | No Comments
Hola, folks. Your old pal DMtShooter from Five Tool Tool, here for the very last time. (Sniff.) It turns out that being a wildly unpopular blogger in my own site will also make you a wildly unpopular blogger somewhere else. Plus, I insist on being paid my weight in boullion, because Shooter likes his soup, and let’s face it — Ethan’s not made of soup.
But it’s also something of a relief, Dear Mostly Theoretical Reader. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to come up with video clips of things to hate every week? OK, not hard at all, really. But since we’re at the end of the run here, I thought I’d go out with things I actually love.
5) Fight Songs.
There are very few things at this time to really make me want to go to a stadium. Everything costs too much, I see the game better from my house, the parking and timewaste is off the charts, and there’s always a very good chance that you are going to see a bad game, where you could just switch off to something more interesting at home.
But then there’s the singing. This happens when my favorite laundry scores a touchdown at home.
When 70K+ people all sing the same song, it’s pretty cool, really. It’s something you can’t get anywhere else; it makes you feel that you are part of something greater. And if your team doesn’t have a fight song, and you don’t know what it’s like to do the dumb thing with your whole heart and bellow out the words? I just feel sorry for you, really.
4) The Bull S*** Chant.
Is there anything that makes you feel more naughty, Sports Fan, then when the whole crowd gets into it with the zebras? That delightful little moment of wondering if things are going to get ugly (OK, uglier), that slow fade into simmering impotent rage… that relief that a riot isn’t going to break out, and then that regret that a riot isn’t going to break out. This clip is, you will be shocked to learn, not quite safe for work, really.
Oh, and I thoroughly realize that loving this and hating it in the same moment, depending on whether or not I’ve brought my kid to the game, makes me a raging hypocrite. It’s still fun to chant.
3) The Haka.
I don’t know, or care, what they are saying. I don’t know, or care, about their sport. I’m certain that there’s some Maori tribe in New Zealand that sees their heritage as sullied from this. All I know is that when I look at their opponents during this clip, especially when they get to the throat slashing, and they look like they are going to soil themselves? I know that’s awesome.
Every sport should have this, and the fact that just about every sport in America would prohibit it as unsportsmanlike conduct and/or taunting… is why we are slowly losing our place as the best nation in the world, people. In the country I grew up in, we’d have taken this thing, bastardized it beyond recognition, and sold it back to the indigenous people that made it for a profit.
2) Mascot Fights.
Furry freaks throwing down as if they were athletes, rather than closet cases and failed jocks? I’m there. I’m so there. It’s just about the only thing these people can do to amuse me, but Lord, it never fails to amuse.
Bonus points in this clip for the Stanford Tree mascot throwing down, because that’s not exactly a costume that lends itself to pugilism.
1) Cheerleader Fail.
Once upon a time, I was a Sixers’ season ticket holder, which meant that I spent 20 games watching some of the best players in the world… and the Sixers. (It was the Era of Doug Moe and Shawn Bradley. Let’s just say my timing wasn’t very good, and leave it at that.) So for 20 games a year, from very high up seats, I’d watch the cheer squad do their thing.
I have never been a guy who is into cheerleaders; it’s just not my thing, really. But what the hell, they are athletic women in tight clothes; there should be something here for me, right? So I did everything possible to work up something of interest. I focused on one member of the squad. I tuned out the usually hateful music. I ignored the crepe paper on her hands, or the dead-eyed glaze in her eyes. And… nothing. So be it. Moving on.
And then the Internet happened, and Cheerleader Fail entered my life. And yours as well.
Now, we all have hope. Now, we all have a reason to watch… for the hope, however faint, that one of these people will kick each other in the face. And if I’ve learned nothing else in all of my years on the planet, it’s this: you’ve got to have hope. Especially for cheerleaders to kick each other. In the face.
Fellow haters, I’m off like a prom dress. I’m sure we’ll meet again… some sunny day.
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