Right now I don’t care about the NFL. Which truly is a horror because I’m Zeke and I pick pro football games for a living.
Now I’m reduced to picking my nose as billionaire owners and millionaire players bicker over $9.3 billion of revenue.
Bottom line, owners and players treat fans like a collection of nerdballs with eyes that are mere lumps of coal.
Oh, well. At this rate you won’t have to take a program, binoculars and nunchucks to an Eagles game this fall because there likely won’t be one.
All because the start-and-stop negotiations between the NFL’s owners and players came to a dramatic end Friday, when the Players Association filed paperwork to decertify as a union.
Well, if this nonsense persists, next autumn will feel somewhat strange without zealot fans often buy-a-vowel drunk, spewing cuss words and looking to fight. And the men sometimes worse.
Right now, pro football has disappeared and we’re still looking for clues why, outside of mutual greed by the owners and players.
The NFL doesn’t have labor peace today, and after more than three weeks of mediation talks in Washington, D.C., both sides still appear to be headed down the road that will assure the most possible damage: Decertification and litigation by the union, a likely lockout and responding litigation by the owners. That is where this multi-billion-dollar melodrama has lined up on the line of scrimmage all along.
So ignore all that blabber from both sides about how bad they feel for NFL fans, and how much they only desire to protect the future of the game. Nobody is swallowing that hogwash.
Indeed, try selling that garbage to talented employees who have dedicated their lives to companies that now have downsized them or frozen their pay or sliced their pay or — the horror of it all — done the unholy trinity.
In the background I can hear pigskin squealing.