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WHO IS CHARLIE?
On an episode of TV's "South
Park," role model Cartman once warned everyone to "Watch
out for Charlie in the Trees."
And I like to think that'll set the tone for my Outsports.com
column. I like to think of myself as somewhat dangerous, or cunning,
but above the fray, watching down upon the sports scene like a
slimmed-down version of the Slice Blimp. Or the Fuji Film Blimp. Or
the Shamu the Killer Whale for Seaworld Blimp.
Only I'm not in a blimp. Nor am I a blimp. I'm not even in the
trees, in actuality. I'm just above it all.
You may be wondering: what's up with him? Why is he qualified to
write a sports column for the premier Web site for gay athletes and
athletic supporters? (Cheap pun, I know, but there are some thing's
that I'm just not above.)
Why am I qualified? Well, I will have you know that I am
experienced with all facets of the sports scene due to the fact that
I share my house with a dark, muscular, good-looking retired
athlete.
OK, so the retired athlete is a ex-racing greyhound that I adopted.
Greyhound racing is a sport. And he is cute as a button.
And to protect the reputation of my retired athlete life-partner,
you know, for the sake of all those potential endorsements, I write
about the sports scene under a nom de gay, Charlie - in the Trees.
E-mail
Charlie
Past Columns
Give
me Jeter over Cruise
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Foreskins, Deadskins,
R*dsk*ns. Whatever you call 'em, I hate 'em By
Charlie In The Trees
Special to Outsports.com
LAS VEGAS-Picture this. A
pro sports franchise. In the uniquely American sport that is the
true national pastime. They play their home games in the
crab-infested State of Maryland. They stocked their roster full of
expensive free agents, the remnants of players who, oh, maybe five
or six years ago would’ve been worth the money the team is paying
them.
They have a horribly obnoxious, meddlesome, loud-mouthed owner.
Yeah, the franchise still has a cornerstone player who’s been in
the League since, what, the turn of the previous century. Great
expectations. Great failure.
 I am talking about
the Washington R*dsk*ns. (Aside note: I can’t bring myself to
actually use the given name of sports franchise whose nickname is a
racial slur. In a world where relatively harmless mascots, such as
the Eastern Michigan Hurons and the Marquette Warriors, in the same
of political correctness, go the way of the New York Highlanders or
the Tennessee Oilers, I just don’t see how an actual racial slur
continues as sports nickname.)
Just like their baseball doppelgangers up I-95 in Camden Yards, the
R*dsk*ns will severely under-achieve. They will not be in the Super
Bowl. It will be a wonderful year to be a football fan. I really
dislike “The Skins.” I have for years.
Long before Superbrat Danny Snyder bought the team for that
formerly cadaverous (now merely a cadaver) womanizer Jack Kent
Cooke. The Joe Gibbs years were difficult to live through, but I
still burn a candle at the beginning of each football season in
loving tribute to Coach Richie Pettibone and that magical
first-to-worst season that ended the Gibbs era with a resounding
thud back in 1993.
I learned to hate the Deadskins back in 1983. I was visiting my
sister in Northern Virginia around Christmas. She was constantly
complaining about the R*dsk*ns back then. She called them
cry-babies. She claimed that they were always whining about the
officiating. I insisted they couldn’t be that bad and, besides,
she was biased because she was (and is) a huge Steelers fan.
So I’m visiting her. The playoffs are on. Washington beats
the L.A. Rams, 51-7. That’s bad enough. We then turn on the 6
o’clock news. The reporter is interviewing one of the players.
Dave Butz, I think. And he says: “We would’ve won even bigger if
the refs hadn’t made so many bad calls.”
Un-effin-believable.
First words out of his mouth. My sister was right. They were a bunch
of cry- babies. And I have never forgiven them for proving my sister
right. Of course, the Redskin-Peanuts won’t fail as miserably and
as completely as the Peter Angelos Orioles.
But anything short of the Super Bowl will be considered a
failure at Fed Ex Field. (Which is, incidentally, in the
crab-infested State of Maryland, in lovely Bowie. And Maryland
really is crab-infested. I honestly did catch crabs in the State of
Maryland several years ago and I’m not talking about the kind you
put in your California roll.)
So by their definition, the team is destined for failure. Go
Bucs! Go Rams!! Woo-hoo.
And who did the Redskin-Potatoes add this year? Bruce Smith? More
than a few years past his prime. Deion Sanders? Somehow, I just
don’t think the ageless Darrell Green was the problem last year.
(He’s been the cornerstone of this franchise since, what, the
George Allen days?)
What about surly Jeff George? Good investment, since Brad Johnson
isn’t likely to make it through another season healthy. But still
... Jeff George? For every team he’s quarterbacked, he not just a
cancer. He’s Ebola. Blood gushing from every pore. (Another aside:
a few years ago, I saw an interview on TV with Jeff George and he
had his infant son sitting on his lap. Even the George baby had that
same scowl on his face! Just like daddy! It was either hilarious or
frightening. Or both. Thin line, you know.)
The Superbrat isn’t going to able to buy himself a Super Bowl.
Teams don’t buy a championship through free agency. They can’t
even rent one. The best teams use the big name free agents to fill a
gap, or to add something on top of solid foundation.
That’s why I think Carl Pickens was a great addition for the
Titans and why James Stewart will have a monster year guiding Bobby
Ross, a healthy Charlie Batch, and the Detroit Lions into the
playoffs. (Final aside: for the Detroit Lions to make the playoffs,
I think that, each week, team owner William Clay Ford has to
threaten to fire Wayne Fontes if the Lions don’t immediately start
winning. He needs to rehire Wayne Fontes just to threaten to fire
him. Worked like a charm all through the ‘90's. He doesn’t need
to have Wayne coach or anything. Locker room attendant would work.
And you gotta think Wayne could use the job. Any job.)
The Foreskins, like the Baseball O’s, have built their franchise
on a foundation of old, rapidly aging free agents. They’ll make
the playoffs. They’ll probably win the division, unless the Eagles
are a team of destiny. But I don’t expect them to go very far. And
I expect to enjoy it.
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