In classic “fish or cut bait” scenario, “cut bait” wins

Let’s take a break (or at least a dislocation) from discussing the horrors of American football and make note of a positive development in world futbol: Fox made the right call and gave up the Gus Johnson experiment. As noted in these pages, Gus never really got the hang of soccer, and wasn’t improving at an encouraging pace. Better for Fox to make the change now than to stubbornly stick to its guns and screw up the 2018 World Cup more than FIFA already will.

The moral imperative to stop watching pro football

Forget, for the moment, about concussions, slurs against Native Americans, corporate greed, non-guaranteed contracts, and all the other ways the NFL has tried to make itself persona non grata among right-thinking people. Here’s one more reason – reason enough on its own to justify quitting watching football cold turkey:

It’s been well-established that NFL leadership doesn’t give a shit about women, but with newly-released footage of Ray Rice punching his then-fiancee in the face prior to being gently wrist-slapped with a two-game suspension, one has to wonder: do NFL fans give a shit about women?

To be clear, this is footage that the NFL either saw, or lied about seeing, prior to announcing Ray Rice’s joke of a punishment. This is repugnant, outrageous behavior, and it’s no longer enough for fans to merely express their disgust. We need to make our disgust felt through actions, starting with finding another way to spend our Sundays.

Supporting NFL football is insane/immoral

This is a great interview and I highly encourage you to read it:

At 8:30 pm E.S.T., the NFL jumpstarts its ninety-fifth season with a donnybrook between the defending Super Bowl champion Seattle Seahawks and America’s sweetheart hunk of cheddar, the Green Bay Packers. More than 20 million viewers will tune in tonight, and more than 100 million will catch a game over the opening weekend. Football rules the sports landscape. The NFL is king. Break out the nachos and settle in for the 2014 season, right?

Go ahead, but Steve Almond, author of the profound, searching, occasionally squirm-inducing book Against Football: One Fan’s Reluctant Manifesto, won’t be joining. After four decades of being a devoted Oakland Raiders fan, the father of three is calling it quits.

Anyone who pays any attention to the NFL knows we’re not exactly running short on reasons it doesn’t deserve our time (or our money).* Yet the league maintains a stranglehold on its position at the center of American sports culture. I find it basically impossible to defend – “but fantasy football is so fun!” is an atrocious argument for supporting something so fundamentally rotten – but, like so many others, I just can’t bring myself to turn away. Steve Almond does us all a service by calling us on our hypocrisy.

* And as a homegrown fan of the Washington Football Team, I have an entire extra set of reasons to find the sport abhorrent.

Michael Brown didn’t do anything as a teen that I didn’t — but only one of us got killed [link]

Matt Yglesias makes the obvious comparison, and draws the obvious conclusion:

When I was Brown’s age I also dabbled in drugs and alcohol. Even used Swisher Sweets to roll blunts from time to time. For that matter, I also did some shoplifting. Got caught one time by a security guard at the K-Mart on Astor Place who confiscated the stuff I’d stolen and yelled at me a bunch. So I suppose that, when an undercover officer came upon me and two friends smoking cigarettes and drinking beer on a park bench that night, he could have shot us dead and then the Times could have reported that we were no angels. We weren’t.

The NYT’s Michael Brown obit is shameful, but provides a helpful distillation of the insane double standard being applied here, where a kid’s possible youthful transgressions are held out to implicitly justify his cold-blooded killing at the hands of a police officer.

Robin Sloane – In praise of the terrible live stream

Robin Sloane:

The terrible live stream is precious because, of all the formats available to us now, it selects least. It resists the narrative compression of “news.” It shows a scene that, for all its intensity, is mostly slow-moving and confusing. It forces us to sit through the in-between minutes that an editor would cut. The live stream, uniquely among formats, is free to be muddled and boring, with no clear storyline and no assurance that This Is All Going Somewhere.

Time makes fools of us all.