Monday, January 18, 2010

Not Showing Up

Not Showing Up: A New Trend

"Eighty percent of success is showing up."
- Woody Allen

What more can we do to motivate you? Hmmm?
We had a keg, by Christ!
Of course, I'm talking about the football league we're on.

Quite contrary to what you may think, most of the time you are required to have players that show up to the games in order to compete.
It's a simple fact of life that in order to do something, something must be there to do it. Scott and myself recently conducted an experiment: we examined the effects of placing a lit firecracker in a box, while in another box, we placed nothing at all. To our amazement, the box with the firecracker exploded, while the box without the firecracker did nothing.
"Jehovah!" I exclaimed. Scott and I then proved that if the firecracker had not showed up to explode the box, the box would not explode.
Well, yesterday, a similar situation occurred when half our football team did not show up for our game. And wouldn't you know it: we lost.
But, this time we had an excuse.
Oh, brothers and sisters, we were amazing out there, but, by lord, there was no way to win when we reflected on the lack of showing up that occurred that day.
How do you expect your EDIT or your EDIT to play like the champions they are without the knowledge that their team supports them.
You can't and shouldn't expect that.
Poor Troy. I remember, during half time, he sat on the side lines sheepishly acting out what he would say to Spencer and J.D. when he went into work the next day.
"I mean, if you think we stink, you can tell me. I don't want any secrets on this football team. I'm a man, I can take it, but I think you owe us an excuse and an apology. We try so hard to win, if you don't think that's enough, let us know, man."
Then Troy broke down and it took the cheer and mirth of pointing at a homeless man and declaring "But, at least I'm not him" to bring him back into the game.
Where were you when we lost in the stadium of champions, underneath the Space Needle in all our glory?
That would be the line of a song that I will write about the event once I learn how to play guitar.
And, what about Weisberg? The poor kid played his first game with us and he played like a champ.
What's he to think when half the team doesn't show up? Who was there to drink his keg that he so cheaply didn't want to waste after his engagement party the night before?
Not half the team, I'll tell you that much my friend.
That half of the team was out in the exosphere of the stadium. Maybe they were washing a car, taking the dog out for a walk, or reading Harper's Bazaar.
It's anyone's guess, but I can tell you where they weren't: at Memorial Stadium with true patriots.
Did I bash my finger apart in vein?
No, I did it for the team.
And, yesterday, when Scott nailed me in my man tits with the football, or when I tackled an opponent I thought was a pink elephant coming for my cotton candy Wayne Gretzy statue, or when I fell face-first onto the football rather than catching it – what did I do all of that for? Was it in vein? Well, if you ask your J.D. Harpers or your Trisha Huffmans, I guess they might answer in the positive.
And what about Scott? The man who put this together for all of our benefit.
"I just....I just wanted to put together a winning football team...and...and to have them all show up....and maybe drink Chris' keg afterwards and stagger to the amusement park to blow Bud Light from the roller coaster onto small children. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?"
No, Scott, it is not.
Would I go as far as calling these non-shower-uppers unpatriotic? Yes.
Would I call them terrorists? You bet, because what else but terror is realizing that Matt is one of only three people the ball can be thrown to.
To those that did not show up, I say FORSHAME!
You truly are the bit of nugat mistakenly put in a cough drop, and we will remember this.
These colors don't run!
Don't tread on me!
There is no I in Team!
With that said, I would also like to congratulate my sister on another happy birthday.
Way to keep living!

Peace be unto you,
Matthew Jean Eckert

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