All it took was a new NFL collective bargaining agreement to make my globetrotting and oft voguish colleague, Mr. Allen Krause (9 year-old version pictured above), rejoice like he was at a Justin Bieber concert. Now that we know there will be football, Mr. Krause can use his soon-to-be Detroit Tigers disappointment as a perfect segue into yet another Detroit Lions season of disappointment.
The world will be good.
Still, I have a hard time congratulating a group of unionized millionaires on doing what they should have done to begin with. I know the owners were skimming and scheming, but these things need to be addressed and taken care of PRIOR to a lockout, PRIOR to pissing off a Joe Six-Pack fan base, PRIOR to holding my sports news hostage.
DIDN’T THEY LEARN ANYTHING FROM THE 1994 MLB STRIKE!?!?!
Look, I nearly died in ’94. I was crushed like a man forced to watch his lover in bed with another man. I went so far as to QUIT baseball for the entire 1995 season. If it weren’t for an Albert Belle sized tub of syringes and a jheri curl renaissance, I might still be hootin’ and hollerin’ over the CICL.
But, as is usually the case, no one cares how we, the fans, feel. As long as we keep schleppin’ out the dough, sports franchises and the athletes who make them will continue to spit on us. Because they can.
And, I can attest, a certain Mr. Krause would be the very first in line with a pocketfull of benjamins for some Matt Stafford lugeys.
Hate me. It’s cool. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.