It really is all in the game; Political leanings don’t matter when it comes to football
OK, here’s the thing:
Unlike my friend Walt who, until very recently was a die-hard Patriots fan, I rooted for the Pats in the Super Bowl and was thrilled when they won.
All because of Donald Trump.
See, Walt is one of those people who decided that because three primo Patriots – Tom Brady, Bill Belichick and Robert Kraft – are friends with, and possibly voted for, Trump, well, then (figurative) death to the entire football team.
I don’t quite dig that.
First of all, I’m not absolutely certain any of those cats actually VOTED for Trump. Sure, I’ll accept that they probably did, but absolutely certain? Nope.
Second … so what?
I don’t give a tinker’s damn about Brady, Belichick and Kraft as people. I don’t know them, I’ll never meet them, they aren’t going to leave me anything in their wills (and they’re getting nothing from me), so all I care about is what they do when they’re playing football or coaching football or … what is it that Kraft does? Count his money?
Other than that, as long as they aren’t abusing cats or other creatures, I don’t care what they do or for whom they voted.
It’s a game, for crying out loud, and the people who play it/coach it/own the team have absolutely nothing to do with us, and we have absolutely nothing to do with them, so who gives a damn what they do in their spare time?
Should vegetarians root against the Patriots because some of the players (probably) eat meat? What about the players on the other team?
Some of the Atlanta Falcons players might have voted for Trump and might even think his idiotic tweets are cute rather than embarrassingly stupid, so what were we supposed to do?
If you couldn’t root for the Patriots and you couldn’t root for the Falcons … what? Only one choice, kids: Watch a movie or read a book. Right. Two choices. Really, there were more than two choices, but how many of us just chose to watch the game?
“I hope you both lose, you Trump-voting, meat-eating fascists!”
Works for me.
Really, can’t you see how silly it is to get so worked up over what some quarterback did or didn’t do or what sort of dopey hat he had in his locker? He’s not related to you, you don’t have to see him at Thanksgiving, you never have to talk to him, and you know what else?
He doesn’t give a flying … he doesn’t care what you think. And he sure as heck doesn’t care what I think. He doesn’t know me, never heard of me. And he sure doesn’t know you.
What? You think because you make a dork of yourself on sports talk radio – “Hi, first-time caller, longtime nitwit” – that if any of these cats hear you, they would care what you said?
“Hi, I just want to say to Tom Brady that he should have voted for Hillary because I did.”
Get over yourself. You are not important to them, so why are they so important to you?
Friends, if you find out that some footballer beats his kids or punches his girlfriend in the face in an elevator, feel free to root against them, their team and their planet, for all I care, but even then, THEY WON’T CARE WHAT YOU DO OR THINK. Because they don’t even know you exist.
And it’s just a damn game. So, the Patriots won. Does that mean Trump won? Again? Won what? He had no hand in the Pats winning. He gets no credit for it. What? They won because Tom Brady had one of Trump’s hats? A magic hat?
We really have to get over equating sports figures with anything of importance other than the games they play.
Mike Cleveland is former editor of The Cabinet.