TAS: Get ready . . . for iceskating
February 3, 1993
Well, football season is over.
Sorry to break the news to all the die-hard pigskin junkies out there . . . all the "big fans." It is time to put away the pork ridns and the onion dip. You must all find something else to do with yourselves on Sunday.
I realize that with the last tick of the clock in the last quarter of the Super Bowl your lives are rendered meaningless. I know that the shock of not seeing Terry Bradshaw pontificate about the offense is too much to bear, but you must be strong.
It certainly was a glorious ride through the gridiron this year, but now that is over and you must move on. If it makes you any happier, reflect back upon the greatest moments of Football '92.
For me, the greatest single accomplishment in pro football did not occur on the field or in the booth at all. It had to be that fat slob of a fan taht urged us all to watch the game of the week . (Sorry Wade, for leeching off of you.)
We all watched entranced as this hulk of oil outlined the next week's game. We were all intrigued by his occasional remarks about his mysterious wife. We all waited with baited breath to see what foode he would be eating next. We were all mesmerized.
What makes this such an amazing phenomenon is the fact that this guy breaks every male model stereotype in the book. I have seen a few beefcake calendars in my day (much to my chagrin) and I can say with more than usual Authority that this guy doesn not belong.
He is fat. His hair--what's left of it--is oily and disgusting. He is certainly overweight, and I for one would not want to see him hanging on my wall partially unclothed and looking at the camera suggestively.
No. I am disgusted by this guy, and therein lies the triumph. If a guy like this can make a name for hiself on television over the traditional male hunks then maybe TV is taking a turn for the better.
Maybe shows with substance, like the ill-fated Probe, starring Parker Stevenson will make its way back on the air. Maybe shows like Twin Peaks will survive if they promise to stay on task. It may be a television renaissance underway!
The days of shows like Baywatch may be numbered. Now those of us who actually liked Thirtysomething will get the last laugh. No more will we suffer through drivel such as Beverly Hills 90210 or Melrose Place. Realistic television will be in demand.
Yes, all you football fans, be proud of the football year that is fading from memory. It was a year of triumph.
And if any of you are still desperate for some sport to watch during the weekend, don't worry. Ice skating is always an exciting alternative.
Well, football season is over.
Sorry to break the news to all the die-hard pigskin junkies out there . . . all the "big fans." It is time to put away the pork ridns and the onion dip. You must all find something else to do with yourselves on Sunday.
I realize that with the last tick of the clock in the last quarter of the Super Bowl your lives are rendered meaningless. I know that the shock of not seeing Terry Bradshaw pontificate about the offense is too much to bear, but you must be strong.
It certainly was a glorious ride through the gridiron this year, but now that is over and you must move on. If it makes you any happier, reflect back upon the greatest moments of Football '92.
For me, the greatest single accomplishment in pro football did not occur on the field or in the booth at all. It had to be that fat slob of a fan taht urged us all to watch the game of the week . (Sorry Wade, for leeching off of you.)
We all watched entranced as this hulk of oil outlined the next week's game. We were all intrigued by his occasional remarks about his mysterious wife. We all waited with baited breath to see what foode he would be eating next. We were all mesmerized.
What makes this such an amazing phenomenon is the fact that this guy breaks every male model stereotype in the book. I have seen a few beefcake calendars in my day (much to my chagrin) and I can say with more than usual Authority that this guy doesn not belong.
He is fat. His hair--what's left of it--is oily and disgusting. He is certainly overweight, and I for one would not want to see him hanging on my wall partially unclothed and looking at the camera suggestively.
No. I am disgusted by this guy, and therein lies the triumph. If a guy like this can make a name for hiself on television over the traditional male hunks then maybe TV is taking a turn for the better.
Maybe shows with substance, like the ill-fated Probe, starring Parker Stevenson will make its way back on the air. Maybe shows like Twin Peaks will survive if they promise to stay on task. It may be a television renaissance underway!
The days of shows like Baywatch may be numbered. Now those of us who actually liked Thirtysomething will get the last laugh. No more will we suffer through drivel such as Beverly Hills 90210 or Melrose Place. Realistic television will be in demand.
Yes, all you football fans, be proud of the football year that is fading from memory. It was a year of triumph.
And if any of you are still desperate for some sport to watch during the weekend, don't worry. Ice skating is always an exciting alternative.
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posted by David at 2:20 PM
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