Saturday, May 30, 2009

Imagining silliness

I laughed. I chortled. I even snorted a little during that chortle.

Mainstream American sport media is silly. Like, four-year-old pixie stick addict after five Red Bulls silly.

On Tuesday, we – and by we, I mean ESPN’s army of 25-49-year-old male viewers – saw some illicit – at least it looked it – video of Tom Brady throwing a football on the Gillette Stadium turf prior to the 2009 NCAA Men’s Lacrosse Championship on Memorial Day. Empty stadium. Faceless receiver. One ongoing loop of the world’s most handsome quarterback in sweats and a red tee firing the pigskin on a sunny Monday morning. And within minutes, a million or so 40-something guys and their 11-year-old daughters were texting/tweeting OMG! OMG! TB’s backkkkkkk!<3

Love it.

Journalism at its finest.

One shot of Tom Brady throwing a football is enough to give the guys at WEEI two months’ worth of disturbing male fantasies. And I thought my bromances with Zachary Quinto and Christian Bale were bad.

Interestingly enough, another injured superstar that calls Gillette Stadium his office. And I’m in dire need of another semi-creepy video of a player on the mend.

Someone – anyone, even Matt Walsh – needs to get out a video camera or their iPhone or Blackberry and find Taylor Twellman playing kick the ball against a wall inside Gillette. I want it played over and over. I want Chris Mortenson – I mean, Allen Hopkins – on the phone dissecting the non-story as if it was like some terrorist spy cable or the unveiling of the KFC Original recipe.

I want Dynamite (get it? His nickname is “TnT” because his first name starts with a “T” and his last name also starts with a “T.” God, I’m clever!) in a fashionable, nondescript tee and a pair of loose three-quarters pants. Yeah, manpris. I don’t care from whom or where he’s receiving passes, but I need to see him kicking the ball about. Bouncing on his heels. Juggling. Headbanging. Anything that shows him testing his neck sprain.

ESPN needs to lead this on its 6pm SportsCenter.

Get it done, Bristol. Or L.A. Or wherever J.P. Dellacamera is right now.

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