Playing To The Death

In college, I wrote a paper on violence in sports. It was for one of my sport “theory” classes (Sport Psychology, Principles of Coaching, I don’t quite remember) but in the paper, I discussed parents gone wild, the jail in the old Veterans Stadium for unruly fans, hockey goons and soccer hooligans. Players against players, fans against fans, fans against players; it’s a never ending battle. According to reports yesterday, an Iraqi player was shot dead on the field as he was about to kick what could’ve been a game tying goal. In most of the world, football is life. I’m not condoning the senseless murder at all, but this was coming, at some point at some stadium. The Iraqi national team doesn’t even live or practice in Iraq for security reasons. Is this just Iraq’s problem? I don’t think so. 


I’ll be rooting for Nigeria and Jamaica as well as my adopted nations of Italy, Brazil and Argentina in the World Cup 2010. South Africa will host. I wonder what sort of security measures they will implement. With the world watching, will everyone be on their best behavior or is the world stage the time to act out or “make a statement”? In Beijing this past summer, there are folks who never made it home when all they wanted to do was witness dramatic Olympic moments. Those unfortunate deaths weren’t the work of terrorists, neither was the incident in Iraq. In recent years, focus has been on thwarting terrorism and rightly so, but we can’t forget the passionate, enraged little guy who can cause big problems.

Chivalry Don't Like Bitches

Chivalry is not dead. Chivalry just doesn’t like bitches. How can a woman expect a man to be polite and gracious when all she does is roll her eyes, believes she’s undeserving or acts like the words “thank” and “you” aren’t part of her vocabulary? Nice girls get doors held open for them, don’t pay for dinner or drinks, get door-to-door chauffeur service and receive genuine compliments. I’m all about equality of the sexes but I’m a woman and I like when a man takes charge and takes care of me. That does not mean I want him to control me or possess me (I wouldn’t put up with that anyway and that’s not love) but when their natural paternal instincts kick in, I relish it. Just that protective way they put their arm on the back of your chair (after they’ve pushed it in for you) or are quick to stand up for you and kick someone’s ass when they find out someone made you cry or pissed you off (Joey Tribbiani from Friends).


I hope my first born is a boy. That way if I get a daughter second, she’ll have a big brother. I know full well most men want to protect and provide for a woman; a deserving woman. Although I’m liberal, I do fall into the traditional female gender role around a traditionally masculine man – he’s good with his hands (or at least tries or doesn’t balk at the idea of hiring someone to do the job for him), handles all the pest infestations that send me running and screeching like a girl, has hobbies I’ll never understand yet appreciate, watches me like a piece of meat when I’m walking around the house, presses his body behind mine while I’m in the kitchen….pretty much 24/7 foreplay is what I mean. And I will fill his belly with some fine food with a smile.