With a new year come resolutions to become a better person. It’s the time when we sober up after the ball has dropped and realize that we won’t ever do that again, not even on a dare.
But in a mere 12 months, the wide world of sports changed. So here are my New Year’s resolutions, which I make in the hope that if I do my part, it will keep sports from becoming like a reality show.
First off, I resolve not to throw a beer cup at any basketball player, whether collegiate or professional. It’s pointless and downright stupid. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be the punch line on Leno or Conan for six months, but that’s just not a good enough reason to waste beer that costs more than my monthly car payment.
I resolve to stop calling Jon Gruden “Chucky,” no matter how bad the Bucs get or even if Hollywood makes Child’s Play X: Chucky vs. Pinocchio.
I resolve to stop saying NASCAR stands for Non-Athletic Sport Centered Around Rednecks. I realize the joke is older than Bobby Bowden’s sweat pants. This resolution will probably only last until the Daytona 500 starts up in Feburary.
I resolve to stop imitating Jim Leavitt’s sideline rants for my friends’ amusement or at least when I think it might get me a good laugh. I realize now that jumping around and making strange faces is not funny.
I resolve to stop telling people that I am, in fact, Rocky, the Bulls’ mascot. It may be a glamorous and respectable job, but it’s also not as great a pick-up line as I first thought it would be. Besides, the ladies really dig the knight in shining armor that is UCF’s mascot, Knightro.
I resolve to stop complaining that the NHL is locked out and I have no Tampa Bay Lightning games to go to. It’ll be hard, but if I don’t, I fear that Todd Bertuzzi may punch me from behind.
I resolve to finally accept that the Red Sox won the World Series. As a matter of fact, Satan himself has gotten frostbite from skating on the river Styx, and I just saw a monkey from the Wizard of Oz fly past my window.
I resolve to accept some baseball players are on steroids. There is sufficient evidence that Barry Bonds cannot bulk up using Bowflex and that Jason Giambi did not just lose weight by getting a Diet Coke with his Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese value meal.
I resolve to admit that making up a college bowl game for the 4-7 USF football team will not work. There isn’t a team in the country that wants to play in the Preparation H Cottage Cheese Bowl.
Though I have several more, I don’t want to be here until 2006. All I can hope for is good things in the sports world to remember, and just enough bad things to forget.