Josh Q. Public:  Too much information.  Running through my brain.  Too much information.  Driving me insane.  -The Police

Public Service Announcement:  Ok, here we go!  Like the San Pedro Beach Bums always say, “Football, you bet.”  It’s everywhere.  It’s on Deadspin.  It’s on The Big Lead.  It’s on the World Wide Leader.  You just can’t shake it.  I gotta tell ya, I don’t like this.  I don’t like this bit.  I don’t like that I even know about this.  Oh, how I long for the good old days.  Boy the way Glen Miller played.  Songs that made the hit parade.  Guys like us we had it made.  Those were the days.  They certainly were.  I long for the days that this would never have even hit my radar.  In those days, unless it was on the local sports or George Michael’s Sports Machine or This Week in Baseball, it didn’t happen.  In those days, unless Don Gillis, who wrote the blueprint for local sports casting in Boston told me about it, I didn’t want to know about it.  He didn’t tell me about it.  Unless George Michael, the great grandaddy of the highlight show, showed it, I didn’t want to see it.  He didn’t show it.  Unless I got a “How about that?”, from Mel Allen it did not happen.  I liked it better that way.  A kinder gentler America.  A simpler America.  Now, with the Worldwide Leader and endless blogs throughout Al Gore’s internet we are subjected to this nonsense more and more.  Sure.  There were blips on the radar.  There was Pele, Franz Beckenbauer, Carlos Alberto, Giorgio Chinaglia and the Cosmos.  There was little Freddy Adu.  There was Beckham coming to Los Angeles.  At least that was American Soccer.  Now we have to endure European Soccer too?  Count me out.  I can’t take it anymore.  Mob mentality.  Hooliganism at its best.  No brains of their own.  As soon as the World Cup comes around, jackbooted fans everywhere, wrap themselves around their flag and commence to destroy everything in sight.  Ya ya, soccer is the most popular sport in the world.  So what?  Big Macs are more popular than prime rib.  Which one are you going to eat?  And not for nothing, that’s the only justification soccer apologists can come up with.  They never talk about the excitement.  How could they?  Where are the bone crushing hits?  Where are the three sixty slam bam thank you ma’am jams?  Where is the ever loving long ball?  What the Brazilians see as the “beautiful game” is painfully dull and boring.  Where’s the intensity?  Where’s the action, Jackson?  Every highlight I happen to catch on ESPN shows someone almost scoring a goal.  Almost.  That’s what happens in these games, a lot of almosts.  It’s almost a sport.  I’m not saying what those cats do with their feet and their heads isn’t remarkable.  Juggling four chain saws is pretty gosh darn remarkable too, I’m just saying.  Can’t we hear more about the Red Sox 20-5 record in friendly confines of Fenway Park?  Can’t we hear more about Joe Torre and the suicide squeeze?  Can’t we hear more about Penguins/Red Wings?  Celtics/Pistons?  Lakers/Spurs?  Do we have to hear about this?  It’s just un-American.

Public Spectacle:

Peace out homies.  Six two and Even!