Readers of this blog in its prior incarnation may remember the periodic feature “Meet Your Militia“, a series of informal interviews with players. That features continues now as “Renegade Recon”, since my original title (“Reconnoiter Your Renegades!”) was met with firm disapproval. Whatever, haters. So! Let’s do this thing.
Confession: when I first learned that we were having a breakaway banner made (one of those big vinyl things that people are supposed to burst through in dramatic fashion), I didn’t like the idea at all. I felt like with our beyond-limited budget, there were lots of higher-priority things…but mostly I kinda thought it would make us look like pompous jerks. There’s a line between confident and cocky, and I felt like this could easily appear to be over that line. But hey – not my call, and not a big enough deal to make a fuss about.
At the first game, I spent pretty much the entire time working and saw almost nothing of the game itself. But I wanted to watch my team take the field for the first time in this crazy improbable and did I mention crazy season, so I walked to where I could see the field. A few people were holding that goofy breakaway banner and I cringed a little inside. I expected a swarm of Renegades to descend on the banner, but instead, one player ran out alone. I was on the other end of the field and didn’t recognize her immediately – I actually had to check our roster to see who it was: Sue Quimby.
Sue Quimby? This was not one of our rock star players. This was not one of the 2015 season captains. This was not someone who had played for Boston throughout our illustrious career as a powerhouse team. This was a redacted -year-old suburban mom of two who hadn’t stepped onto a football field in over a decade. I processed that for a moment, and as I watched her leap through the Renegades banner and lead the team onto the field, all my apprehension turned to admiration. Sending Sue Quimby out in this role was the first public statement made by the Boston Renegades; I asked a good friend of mine on the team to give me some background on how that came about:
Sue was decided on because she played forever ago with the [New England] Storm. She left, got married, had two kids and came back. She broke her nose at practice and came back. Had a calf tear and came back. We figured, who better to represent what we are all about?
There’s a lot that’s really hard about this season, and there’s a lot that I wish were different. But as I watched Sue take the field, followed by so many amazing players, I thought Holy crap – we’re doing this. WE’RE doing this. This is us. This is who I want us to be.
In a bitterly ironic turn of events, after working so hard to get back on the field after so many years, Sue badly injured her knee in the game against Central Maryland and will be on the sidelines for the foreseeable future. But I am convinced that football isn’t done with Sue yet, even if her participation doesn’t look like what she thought it would be. On that note, let’s meet the woman that the Renegades chose to represent them as they introduced themselves to the world.
Before you started practice with the Renegades earlier this year, when was the last time you played tackle football? When did you decide to come back to it, and why?
Sue, in the very first season of the very first women’s tackle football team in the Boston area.Before the Renegades this year, I played in 2003 for the New England Storm out of Medford. I had planned on playing again the following year but the team disbanded and then life got in the way – I was working for two different police departments putting in long hours, I got married, and then I started having babies. I thought my playing days were over. Last fall my son started playing tackle football and I caught the fever again. I wanted to be out on the field like he was! In knew it would be tough to juggle everything, but nothing worth while in life comes easy!
You have a son and a daughter, and I believe they are both playing flag football. Are their teams co-ed or single gender? How do you perceive people’s attitudes about girls playing football now?
Both my kids play flag football in a co-ed league. At times, my six year old daughter was the only girl at the U6 level. Thankfully, she doesn’t care! Also thankfully, I see lots of girls playing in the older divisions. I think today there is a lot more acceptance for girls in any sport. But there is still negative feedback out there which is sad. I still hear little boys say to each other, “That team has a GIRL,” when they see my daughter out there. Its sad. Of course she just does her job and scores touchdowns and pulls flags so she thinks that is all funny! Which is perfect. I love telling the story about when I played in an after school flag football league when I was 11 (so we are talking 1984ish). There were no adult coaches, we just played and a teacher supervised. Sue & family.My good friend (a boy) was the team captain. I repeatedly asked him if I could be one of the two allowed “rushers” and go after the opposing QB. He kept ignoring me and finally said in the huddle, “Sue, girls don’t play football!” I was crushed! How could my good friend doubt me! So that next play I hung back in the secondary, watched the QB and picked off the pass and ran it back the length of the field for a touchdown. My friend apologized immediately, “I guess girls DO play football!” I think girls and women are just always going to have to prove themselves. But that’s ok, we are up to the task!
What did you learn (about yourself or about others) by coming back to play football? What did you learn after your injury?
When I came back to playing this year, the biggest thing I learned was that there are some AMAZING female football players around here! The calibre of play is above and beyond what I remembered. These women on the Renegades are serious! And they are not just physically talented, but they really know the game and all its nuances. I am totally impressed!
What is something that’s made you feel supported as a football player?
There are a few ways that I feel supported as a football player. The first are the amazing women who took over this team this winter and made the season happen for us. They have put in so much effort into getting us on the field! Then there are all the coaches. These men and women are awesome and show such a huge dedication to their players. Finally, all the support I received from the players, coaches, and owners after all my injuries has been amazing. I have always just showed up at work outs and practices, through the injuries, despite all of my family and work committments because I felt like that is what was expected of all players. I was surprised when people took notice of this. It really made me feel appreciated.
What is something you’d like to see happen that would make you feel more supported?
I would just love for the sport of womens football to grow and thrive. Getting more fans and publicity of course would be great, but we don’t play for any kind of notoriaty. We play because we love the sport. Unfortunately, its not like playing basketball where you can join a pick up league or running where you can sign up for local road races. Football requires a LOT of people and a lot of time practicing together – a true team sport. It requires a lot of organization and money. Financial support is what is needed most.
You’re the producer of a major Hollywood movie about the 2015 Boston Renegades season. What’s the theme song?
Bastille, Pompeii. “But if you close your eyes/Does it almost feel like/Nothing changed at all?”
A lot has changed, but when we keep on winning, has anything really changed? When Sue Quimby’s your mom, can you possibly be anything but awesome?
So hey! The landscape’s changed a bit since I talked to you all last, huh? If you have no idea what happened with the team in the offseason — well, if you have no idea, the hell are you doing reading this blog? Creeper. But the ten-second backstory is that there was the Boston Militia, right? And they were huge and awesome and had better funding than any other team. And then right before practices were supposed to start for this season, that funding was all LATER, SUCKAS! and dumped the team in the trashbin with no nothing.
I think they honestly thought that that would be the end of the team. I’d be curious to know if they had any idea how much people would pull together in order to make this season happen…well, not THAT curious ’cause I don’t want to talk to those goobers. But I do wonder. Anyway, you know what happened next – it’s all in this video right here, which we made with crappy sound and amateur editing and all the love in the world. The team — the real part of the team, not the write-the-checks part of the team — looked around at the trashbin and said, fuck this. We got games to play, Let’s get to work.
As such, I have decided that the motto of this Renegades season is:
2015: Less Money, More Awesome.
There are a few ways in which this motto may not be 100% accurate, but it still beat out the other contenders:
2015: The Season We Pulled Out of Our Ass
2015: Fake It ’til You Make It
2015: The Season Where I’m Not Supposed to Call redacted a Douchecanoe
Important update: I’m keeping my name. “Renegade Cheerleader” is fucking badass, don’t get me wrong, and as that’s technically what I am, I have moved the blog to this domain and updated branding as applicable. (I’m sure there are little format-y things that I still need to fix on this site on account of the move, by the way, so if you’re reading through old posts and something looks like ass, there’s a 80% chance it’s just ’cause I haven’t updated all the code.)
However, in practical conversation I will remain Militia Cheerleader (MC). There are a few reasons for this; one is that I can’t stand this cola. Another is that I’m from Boston and to me, my Renegade Cheerleader initials sound like this. But mostly, it’s just that MC’s my name. It’s who I’ve been from the start and I like it and also I’m old and tired and can’t remember new things that well. So I apologize if it’s weird, but that’s what I’m doing.
So the Boston Renegades take the field tonight for the first time as the Renegades, but to call this a new team is simply inaccurate. I know that lots and lots of people thought that the only reason the Militia won all the time was because they had money. And I saw that the reaction from other teams (and even in other sports) to stories like this was overwhelmingly “Oh, cry me a river, no one else is funded by a billionaire either and we make it work.” Is this accurate in a technical sense? Yes. Is it accurate in the true meaning of the statement? SO MUCH NO.
You didn’t do what we’re doing. No one has. When teams first form, they are small. You’re like 16 people and you get your asses handed to you and everyone expects that and that’s fine. Then you grow a little the next year, and you get more fans, and you get more visibility, and over time you gain traction and size and support. Or maybe you make the decision to splinter from an existing team, and you do so with your eyes open, choosing to go that route.
The Boston Renegades did not get to start as a little fledgling bird team, prepared to grow into a badass eagle over time. No, the Renegades team pretty much sprung forth fully grown from the head of Zeus with a mighty battle cry of “AAAAAHHHHH LET’S GET 50 PEOPLE TO FOUR CITIES IN FIVE WEEKS WITH ONLY TWO HOME GAMES, BITCHES!” It’s a little different. Yes, everyone else is self-funded too. But no one else started a season with a full roster, zero cash, a bullshit schedule and only a few months to fundraise. We weren’t even allowed to keep the team’s name.
This isn’t about me wanting sympathy. This is about me appreciating what it has taken to even get this team out on the field tonight. It’s been so much work, you guys — and it’s been so awesome to watch and to be a part of. I spend a lot of time worrying about stuff ’cause I’m me, but in the middle of a bunch of what-ifs the other day, something occurred to me: those dudes who peace’d out and ditched the team in January? They looked at this season and got scared. These people with virtually unlimited resources GAVE UP. They couldn’t make it happen.
We’re making it happen.
It might be ugly and difficult and it may not always be what we want. But when I watch this team step out onto the field in a few hours…in that moment, they will have already won.
Now, we’ve got games to play. Let’s get to work.
P.S. Tiny Coach — who is almost four!! — seems to have inherited his mother’s tendency towards insomnia, especially when anxious about something. Last night he woke up around midnight and found me at my laptop doing last-minute prep work for the game today. “Mama,” he said with absolutely sincere concern, “What if the Booball Aunties need to pee?”
For a Japanese translation of this introduction, please click here. Many thanks to my friend Catherine for taking the time to do that; it’s greatly appreciated. Niko chose to answer her interview questions in English, so her answers appear below as they were written.
This is the first Meet Your Militia that I have ever begun with an apology, but it’s necessary. Niko sent me back the responses to her interview questions days ago, but every time I sat down to write this introduction, I found myself unable to do it. The words wouldn’t come and I didn’t know why. So I read and re-read the articles that told her story, like this one. And I thought. And I didn’t write.
And then I pulled up old Youtube footage of Super Bowl XXXII, the 1998 game that was such a catalyst for Niko. I watched Terrell Davis talk about that game fifteen years later. And I thought. And I still didn’t write.
And then for some reason, as I was looking through game photos to find ones for this post, I suddenly knew why I was having so much trouble writing it. If there’s something I don’t really care about, I can write about it pretty easily (’cause who cares?). If it IS something that I care about, I can usually write about it pretty easily because I have a lot to say about it. But if it’s something that I really care about, deeply and strongly and in my heart, any words I try to use are not enough. It feels like I’m not doing the subject justice.
So apparently the way I deal with that is to read internet articles and watch Youtube until I get over myself and start talking, which I am doing now. (more…)
Now, if THAT’S not the smile of a confident coach, I don’t know what is.Tiny Coach is down the Cape again with my mom today; they got on the road at seven in the morning. I didn’t get a chance to ask him before he left if he had anything to say to his Militia aunties before their big game, so I sent a text to my mother asking her to ask him if he had any good luck or inspirational messages that I could pass on. This is what I got back:
“About sitting.”
Take THAT, Vince Lombardi.
In addition to that pearl of wisdom, however, I have compiled a brief list of additional life lessons from the 3-and-under set that may be of help to you in today’s epic matchup:
If you’re using something and someone else takes it away without asking, go get it back.
If something is too heavy for you to move by yourself, get some friends to help you move it.
If you need something, ask for it with your words and your signs.
Sometimes you just need a timeout.
If you’re outside, you can use your outside voice.
Now is what matters. Not before and after. Just right now.
No matter what, at the end of the day, you get to have a bottle.
I can already feel the excitement of this game like electricity in my body. (Granted, some of that may be partially attributable to the fact that I’m still on a bunch of pain meds after having outpatient surgery on Thursday, but I’m pretty sure I’d feel like that anyway.)
Kick ass and stay safe, my friends. Oh – and even if you don’t think you have to go potty, you should probably try anyway before you get all your outside clothes on.
OK, so a little more than a year ago I wrote this post, which contained the following:
Here’s a recent conversation between Backseat Coach and me regarding upcoming games (certain sensitive information has been removed for security reasons):
Me: Do you ever worry about what would happen if redacted ? I mean, what if someone just redacted ?
BSC: Nah. If redacted , then redacted would totally redacted .
Me: Ooh! You think so?
BSC: redacted yeah, I do.
Courtesy of the Freedom of Information Act and also the It Totally Doesn’t Matter Anymore Act, here is the original, uncensored conversation:
Me: Do you ever worry about what would happen if Whit got hurt? I mean, what if someone just fuckin’ broke her leg or something?
BSC: Nah. If Zelee got hurt, then Asia would totally step up and kick ass.
Me: Ooh! You think so?
BSC: [Some curse word] yeah, I do.
And guess what? He was totally right. Last year, in the Militia’s eight regular season games, Asia rushed for a total of 298 yards, averaging 37 yards per game. And this year, Whit did get hurt in the first game, and what happened? In the FIVE regular season games, Asia rushed for 459 yards – an average of 92 yards per game. HOLY CRAP.
Who does that? Who says oh, looks like my team needs me, time to triple my friggin’ production, la la la? Not many people. But here’s one of them.
Describe for us the difference – if there is one – between plays as a running back and those where you’re returning kicks. Does it feel like the same thing? Do you prefer one to the other?
I would say the biggest difference between running the ball at back and running the ball on kick return is that at running back, my running route is almost predetermined. Ideally, I know where my blocks will be before the play starts. Whereas on kickoff, the defense is a little more unpredictable no matter how many times we practice it. I do love my position at running back, but to successfully achieve a touchdown on kick return is way more thrilling. I did that for the first time last season against the New York Sharks at the very start of the game. Aside from my first career touchdown and the game-winning two point conversion I scored against the Divas [which was effing awesome, by the way – mc] that caused the Militia to win our last regular season game by one point, that kick return TD is my favorite. I wish I could have run another one back this season, but teams don’t kick the ball in my direction much this year, heh.
When my body is tired of doing something, I sit down on my ass. When your body is tired of doing something, you do it for like two more hours. Can you articulate what it is that makes you push through the parts that are really hard?
There are some moments when our offense huddles and I can hear everyone, at all positions, breathing heavily and Cahill says “C’mon, we’re all tired, don’t quit on me now.” It’s things like this that zap me with a little bit more energy. There are other times – like in practice and during games when Whitney Zelee plays four quarters without a sub and she never complains and she never gets lazy…that in itself is inspiring. Lastly, during heavy conditioning practices, Coach is constantly yelling “The other team will get tired before we do!” So in short, when I get tired, I play for my teammates and I play for my coach because they count on me to do my job, so I try to complete my job regardless of being tired or hurt. Being a part of something great is rewarding just by contributing to the greatness. Quitting is hard when people depend on you, so when I get tired I remember that my teammates and coaches are counting on me.
The phenomenal two point conversion in DC that practically gave us all a heart attack.
What do you know now that you didn’t know when you started playing football? (Interpret that however you want.)
This is technically my fourth season, although I’m not sure if my first season counts because on the first play of my rookie season in Connecticut I fractured my tailbone and broke my hand; I ended my rookie season on the injured list. One of the things I know now that I wish I had known before is the importance of working hard in the offseason. Whitney Zelee shared a quote with me last year after she achieved 2,000 yards in the regular season: “Winners are made in the offseason.” I’ve worked harder during this post/pre-season than I ever did during any other and now I can proudly say I was awarded first team, all-conference runningback [in the 2014 WFA All-American Game]. When you’re constantly thinking of football, the game becomes slower on the field.
What is something that’s made you feel supported as a Militia player?
I feel most support from my teammates and coaches. I wouldn’t have made it past my rookie year if Coaches Robert Perryman and Donnie Williams hadn’t called to check up on me throughout the postseason. In fact, I thought about giving up football last season, but talented players like Whitney Zelee, Dorothy Donaldson and Allison Cahill believed I had the talent to become a great asset to the team if I chose to work harder. With such great players as those cheering me on and checking up on me during the offseason, I HAD to come back and give football another try. Don’t get me wrong; I love the support from the fans, my friends and my family but when the ladies I look up to – the ladies I bleed and sweat alongside with – recognize and support my efforts, it influences me in an impactful way.
What is something you’d like to see happen that would make you feel more supported?
Yeah, I don’t do stuff like this. #bleacherseats4lifeI would really like for women to start being paid for playing football. We make a lot of sacrifices to be able to play – not just Militia players but female tackle football players everywhere. I strongly believe that if women were paid to play football, the athletic level would increase. Let’s face it: playing semi-pro tackle football is pretty much a second job and some careers don’t allow time to train for and play football. Player’s name redacted has played this season with tears in her Achilles; currently player’s name redacted is choosing to complete her season with a torn ACL and a damaged meniscus. Nose guard Noriko Kokura – whom we call Niko – once told me: “We are football players; our bodies are different than men’s but we play with the same heart, the same passion for football.” We all make sacrifices to be a part of this game; it would be nice to be recognized for such.
Also, HBO has a show that follows professional football players during their preseason so fans get to know the players in a more personal light; I would love to see the female semi-pro level get the same treatment. I think that if football fans saw all the work we put into football, we’d build a wider fan base because they’d be able to witness how serious we are about this sport.
Do you plan to keep defying all the haters who claim hashtags are played out? #becauseisuredo
#TeamRebel! I love Hashtags…I don’t even have Twitter but I hashtag all the time, even during text messages! And I don’t plan on stopping either.
[Scene: last night at the First Fan Family’s house]
MC: Did you see the promo pic for the game? BSC: I saw that there was one, but I didn’t really look at it. MC: Uh huh. Here, look at the awesomeness and tell me what you see. [hands laptop to BSC]
BSC: Whoa! Well… you got Brickhouse (retired). MC: Uh huh. BSC: You got Molly (retired). MC: Uh huh. BSC: You got… is Dot flipping us off? MC: I think so. I’m pretty sure Cahill is too, though, so maybe it’s a thing. BSC: #22? who? that’s? MC: #22’s Hollandberg1 now. BSC: But that’s [in PA announcer voice] Patty Hefferman (baby-retired). MC: Yeah. Why’s she so short, though? BSC: ‘Cause giant Cahill. MC: …throwing one of the two IWFL balls depicted in the WFA playoff promo. BSC: Awesome! Why didn’t I notice that? MC: I dunno. ‘Cause giant Cahill? BSC: [serious face] Wait a second.
[Stands on chair, gets stack of old Boston Militia program books. Flips through and stops at 2009.]
Click for full size awesomeness.BSC: Whoa ho! Looks like some serious recycling happened here. MC: Yeah, man! There’s the same Cahill, and Alpo, and Dot, and…Dot again. Huh. Double Dot. D to the fourth power. BSC: And yet they didn’t use Bri, right there, who actually IS still on the team. MC: Oh oh oh! The city! In the background! It’s the same! BSC: That’s what I was saying – they just recycled the same photo. MC: And had some art student recreate it in colored beans? BSC: That’s a photoshop filter, babe. MC: That’s a BEAN filter is what that is.
1That will only make sense if you saw my Facebook post about it. Sorry if you didn’t. Back to top
Some are amusing, like the time I was doing temp work for the state Public Health Association and sat down to assemble a mailing going out to six hundred people, then saw that whoever had printed the return address labels had left out a pretty crucial “L” in the organization’s name.
And some get all up in my face when I’m supposed to be doing other things. Like yesterday, for example, when the WFA updated their homepage with the following Conference Championship matchups:
Huh.
So all of a sudden, a whole bunch of people from a number of different teams all collectively freaked the fuck out. I like to think it drew us all closer, really. A little bonding moment of abject disbelief in the middle of the work day. Was this real? Had the bracket been changed? Was this part of a larger agenda? Where is Kansas City, anyway? And hadn’t teams already booked travel? Was San Diego expected to get their whole team up to Seattle and then out to Chicago and then potentially out to Chicago again, all within a few weeks? It’s the one that you’d think should be in Kansas but it’s not, right?
Oddly enough, I found myself being the one giving the league the benefit of the doubt. (I know – weird, right?) Not that we haven’t seen the WFA make bizarre and influential rules (and changes to rules) a number of times before, but in this case, I was going with “typo” over “we restructured the entire Conference system two games before the end of the season.”
Backseat Coach was with me on Team Typo, and he confirmed with the league that it was a design error and not a unilateral earth-shattering revamping of the final rounds of the playoffs.
So now this is up there:
Much better! Although the absence of any text in Chicago’s logo kind of makes it look like someone’s gonna light a bunch of footballs on fire and chuck ‘em at the Militia. (Whatever – you know The Ten would catch that shit anyway. And you know what else fears no flame as long as boiling water isn’t involved? Lobster claws. They’d be all over that.)
Which brings me to my next point. All the freaking out that people did here in Boston – that wasn’t because they didn’t want to play Chicago in the championship game. I think that would have been amazing. And when you play the same three or so teams all season, every season, new opponents are a very welcome thing so I think it would have been awesome to play Kansas City too.
The problem was the perceived last-minute change to something that people had already been mentally and physically preparing for in a major way. Like if your friend was all, come over tonight and we’ll watch The Avengers! And you get psyched for that and now you’re totally in the mood for some Marvel superhero awesomeness and you get to your friend’s house and they’re like OK! Here’s Finding Nemo! And you’re like WHAT THE SHIT WHERE IS SAM JACKSON IN AN EYEPATCH. It’s not that you don’t like Finding Nemo (turtles! Willem Dafoe as a fish!), it’s just that you were all set for something else and it’s jarring to have that changed.
There’s one more thing here that bears mentioning. I think it says something about your management of a league when people see something patently absurd and actually find it plausible. This should have been in the Amusing Sports Typos category, like this one. Instead, it became more of a virtual vote of no confidence.
So I’ve been trying to figure out how to start this post for weeks now, and finally I was inspired by Tiny Coach’s new-found love of making up jokes. (NB: If those jokes ever expand to have actual punchlines, I will share them with you.) So here is the one I made up this morning:
Knock knock.
Who’s there? This bracket.
This bracket who? This bracket’s fucking broken and I hate it.
Ha ha! See, ’cause maybe if I pretend this whole thing is funny instead of an insulting abomination of a playoff system, I won’t be so angry all the time. (Ha ha! That part actually IS funny.) (more…)
I’m going to preface this post by saying that I hate that I have to even write it, but I would hate more for this issue not to be addressed directly. This is totally not what I wanted to be writing about right now. I wanted to be putting together something about the results of all of yesterday’s games, and what is and is not yet known about the playoff bracket and schedule. But I can’t until I take care of this. So let’s take care of this.
In the write-up about last night’s Boston/DC game that appeared on the DC Divas’ official Facebook page, it is stated that after their 29-28 victory, Boston gathered on their side of the field and at one point chanted “Whose house? Our house!”
This is true.
It is also stated that the Boston players did this because it was the “signature chant’ of a beloved coach of the Divas who passed away this offseason, and that this was done as an intentional mockery of him and DC’s dedication of this season to his memory.
This is wrong on so many levels that it makes me sick.
Here is a key piece of information that you won’t find in that write-up: in an effort to gain an advantage on a gameday forecast to be oppressively hot and sunny, the DC Divas informed Boston that they (DC) would be wearing their white away jerseys during the game. This meant that the Militia would need to wear their (darker, heavier) home jerseys, even though they were the traveling team.
So Boston did. And they won. And after the game, when they were gathered together in the endzone celebrating the win that earned them home field in the playoffs, a player suggested that since they were wearing their home jerseys, they must be at home already. And if they were at home, it must be their house! Whose house? Their house!
Obnoxious? Yeah, maybe. An intentional insult to the memory of a beloved coach? Absurd to the point of insult.
Each of the players who talked to me about this today were a bit incredulous at learning that DC assumed the whose house/our house chant was aimed at – and as such, belonged to – one specific DC coach. You know why? ‘Cause people do it everywhere. In virtually every sport. (I don’t feel the need to prove this, but if you have the ability and inclination to do a basic search of YouTube or Google, this will become immediately apparent.)
Here’s the thing. I don’t think that that piece was written with the intent of slandering the Boston Militia. I really don’t. But if you’re going to publicly accuse someone of openly mocking your grief over a lost loved one, you better goddamn well know what you’re talking about because that is not a small thing to say about someone, and that is some big fuel to throw on a fire that should have gone out the year before you tuned in.
But it’s easier to feel intentionally wronged than it is to deal directly with a one-point defeat in a game you came minutes away from winning.
I don’t often give a damn what people I don’t know think of me or the people I care about. I just have a limited supply of damns to give, and I don’t like using them up on people I’ll never meet. But this was over the line.
Last night I was hanging out with some of the players in the hotel lobby, and the talk inevitably turned to the playoffs. Someone asked if the well-known Chicago quarterback was back on the field after an injury sustained early in the season. “What was it that happened?” someone asked. “Torn ACL?” “Hairline fracture of the ukulele,” I responded.
I will own that particular mockery, especially since I think that if you can’t handle mockery at all, you maybe shouldn’t play the ukulele. I will own that manner of mockery. I actually think that sports in general may have been developed largely as an excuse for people to talk shit, and I am happy to carry on that storied tradition. And I think a lot of shit gets said behind locker room doors and in email chains and at practice, and that is what it is and it’s pretty universal.
But this morning, in an official, public statement issued by the DC organization, the Boston Militia were accused of a viciously inappropriate form of mockery. I’m intentionally not linking to the post, by the way – I honestly, truly don’t want anything else to grow there. I want it to end there, as it never should have started in the first place. But that misinterpretation was so ugly that I couldn’t let it end for me without saying something here, in my own space, so I did. And now I’m done.
