Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Silly Ladies, with their Cute Little Hoop Dreams

I am not a basketball fan. I can appreciate the grace and athleticism required to play the sport well, but I’m content to just admire the players via Sports Center highlights. Maybe it’s because Pittsburgh never had an NBA team, or maybe it’s because I don’t like to hear rubber-soled shoes squeak on a gym floor. Maybe it’s because the idea of having sweaty, barely-clothed strangers getting into my personal space is a total turn-off, but whatever the reason, basketball just isn’t for me.

That said, I’m happy for the UConn Huskies women’s team, who now hold the longest winning streak in NCAA basketball history. That freaking rocks! Records are fun and interesting, pretty much regardless of circumstances, and winning 89 games of anything in a row is impressive, to say the least. The whole thing to me seemed to be a nice story. I was pleased to see a women’s team getting national attention, and pleased that my fourteen-year-old son knows and cares who Maya Moore is, even though we aren’t a UConn or basketball household. Up until yesterday, I was under the impression that the situation said a lot about the positive state of women’s sports in general.

That all went out the window when I turned on my local sports-talk radio station after work and heard the afternoon drive team arguing over whether a decent high school boys’ team would be able to kick the UConn women’s collective ass. What brought this on? From what I could pieve together from the discussions on the radio, it seemed the Huskies’ coach had made some kind of crazy remarks the other night—before the record had been broken—and people were just furious.

I like a good scandal as much as the next loser, so I couldn’t wait to hear what Auriemma, the coach, had said. Did he say that . . . what? That John Wooden’s mother wore combat boots? (The late Wooden was a beloved basketball coach whose UCLA men’s team formerly held the record.) I couldn’t even think of something scandalous enough to have merited so much ire.

Here’s what he said (copied and pasted from Sports Illustrated's website):

"I just know there wouldn't be this many people in the room if we were chasing a woman's record," he said. "The reason everybody is having a heart attack the last four or five days is a bunch of women are threatening to break a men's record, and everybody is all up in arms about it.
"All the women are happy as hell and they can't wait to come in here and ask questions. All the guys that loved women's basketball are all excited, and all the miserable bastards that follow men's basketball and don't want us to break the record are all here because they're pissed. That's just the way it is.
"Because we're breaking a men's record, we've got a lot of people paying attention. If we were breaking a women's record, everybody would go, 'Aren't those girls nice, let's give them two paragraphs in USA Today, give them one line on the bottom of ESPN and then let's send them back where they belong, in the kitchen.'"


Now, okay, maybe he could have left out the ‘miserable bastards’ comment, but beyond that, what’s the problem?

I don't see why everyone is so angry about this. Is it because people feel guilty for not caring about women's sports, and the guilt makes them defensive and inclined to lash out? Or is it because some people are petty enough that they're truly upset about women breaking a record set by men and they have to be disparaging?

This is from a local sports guy's blog:

The UCON women’s basketball team is about to break the UCLA men’s record of 88 straight wins.

You would have trouble filling a Prius with the men (other than those related to the players and/or coaches) who care.


He was on the radio this morning, and he said something like, "Even if I were in prison, and in solitary confinement, and the warden said I could come up to the prison lobby to watch a WNBA game on TV, I'd pass." Really? And the guys from the radio--both the hosts and the callers kept trying to just tear down the women, talking about how even though the team might have incredible fundamentals and shooting skills, any decent male team--even a middle school team--could beat them because men are bigger and stronger. This may or may not be true, but WHAT DOES IT MATTER? How is that valid in discussing their accomplishment and the coverage of it? How is that anything more than mean spirited?

Some of the guys this morning were talking about how nobody cares about women's basketball, and the only reason it gets televised as much as it does is because of Title IX, anyway. (He was like a little kid in detention, kicking the ground and mumbling about, "Stupid teachers, always making us have stupid homework. It's not fair.") And I may be wrong on this, but I'm pretty sure Title IX doesn't have anything to do with what ESPN, ESPN2, or ESPNU, etc. puts on their air.

Sigh. Just when you think something nice is happening in the world of women's sports, which is a nice thing for women everywhere, whether they like sports or not, guys have to find some way to tear it down.

Oh, the plight of the poor, disenfranchised, white middle class male. No wonder they're so insecure!

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Secret Agent Super Random

I've been on a Mystery Science Theater kick since Netflix came up with a slew of them to watch instantly, and I can't get the Secret Agent Super Dragon song out of my head.

The Boy turned 14 yesterday. He received his favorite dinner (chicken nuggets and fries from McDonald's) and red velvet cupcakes, as well as some cash, gift cards, a tremendous piece of luggage, and Cuponk, which he freaking LOVES. I have to admit it's pretty fun, and kind of addicting.

If you get a chance and can watch this year's Family Guy Christmas Special, please do. FOX has evidently lost all control over Seth MacFarlane, and just lets him work out his emotional issues during Animation Domination. Have you ever seen the creepy Invader Zim Christmas Special? Here's my favorite bit:



The Family Guy special makes this one look like an episode of Barney.

I can see Paradise by the dashboard light.

I should be knitting my mother's Christmas afghan, but I don't WANNA. I don't FEEL like knitting. Whine! I feel like going to bed at 9:00.

Speaking of being an old lady who wants to go to bed at 9:00, yesterday I sat in a seminar learning to be a notary, and when I pulled my knitting (the dreaded afghan) out of my bag, out fell some hard tack candy. BECAUSE I AM 90. In my defense, the hard tack is a tasty and wonderful gift a co-worker's mother makes every year, which I'd been carrying with me because the cinnamon and wintergreen flavors are especially kind when my stomach gives me trouble. But still: Notary training (which means I'll have my very own embosser soon), knitting, and hard tack. I might as well have been wearing Depends and a wig.

Steven Page, one of the former front men of the Barenaked Ladies and one of my secret boyfriends, has a new album out, and I like every single song from it. He writes great, catchy songs, but they aren't confusing and/or meaningless (Hi, Ke$ha), and he has an awesome voice. Plus, the album is called Page One. See what he did there? Steven Page? Page One? Oh, those Canadians and their crazy humor! But seriously, if you were a BNL fan, or like a fella who can sing, check it out.

That's all I have. Lucky you.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Confessional

Hello. My name is Get Shirty, and I like Band Aid's Do They Know it's Christmas. There. I've said it. Before you throw something at me, click the link to watch the video. Look at how young and healthy everyone was in 1984! Boy George is glowing, Bono's eyes are readily available, Simon LeBon is luscious, George Michael is bursting with hair and good health, and Sting is right around the peak of my love for him. Plus, that guy from Spandau Ballet is SO PRETTY!

Anyway, I like the song. I was thirteen in 1984, and I was really starting to be annoyed with my family. I remember very clearly sitting in the backseat with my sister, being driven from my dad's parents' house to my mom's parents' house on Christmas Eve, and really listening to the lyrics when the song came on the radio. My parents were toasted and beyond embarrassing, my sister was a brat, and then all of a sudden, Bono sang, "Well tonight thank God it's them, instead of you," and I really heard him. It seemed somehow wrong to thank God that someone else's misfortune wasn't mine, like I was somehow saying that God preferred me. But I *was* grateful. I still am. Sigh. Can anyone feel as much guilt and angst as a thirteen-year-old middle class American Catholic girl on Christmas Eve when a bunch of earnest pop singers from the UK are being all earnest and emotive? I really don't think so.

And so, for making me cry in the car on Christmas Eve, I love Band Aid, and I love their song.

So sue me.