FIRE JOE MORGAN

FIRE JOE MORGAN

Where Bad Sports Journalism Came To Die

FJM has gone dark for the foreseeable future. Sorry folks. We may post once in a while, but it's pretty much over. You can still e-mail dak, Ken Tremendous, Junior, Matthew Murbles, or Coach.

Main / Archives / Merch / Glossary / Goodbye

Thursday, March 27, 2008

 

Cancel Baseball. Cancel Sports. Cancel All Human Events in All Cities.

I'm all for tradition. Wait, scratch that. I'm for keeping the traditions that make sense. Actually, scratch that too. I'm more of a "let's see what works and what doesn't and then do what's best so we can constantly fucking improve ourselves, yeah?" kind of guy.

Furman Bisher -- now he's all for tradition. He says so right here:

Sayonara, baseball tradition

Baseball used to be a game played with nine men to a side, two managers, four umpires, and the major-league season always opened in Cincinnati.


Of all of the baseball things to get nostalgic about, this one seems a little nit-picky. I'm sorry, Cincinnati. You'll always have the fond memories of Opening Days past and of Ickey Woods dancing. Dancing in the moonlight.

Money can change any habit. Eight springs ago the Mets and Cubs opened the season, not in Cincinnati. Guess where? Tokyo.

Hold that thought. I would like to play a game with you, the reading audience. How are you, audience? I'm well, thank you for asking. Mr. Bisher has brought up the city of Tokyo in this baseball-related column, and he's about to expound on the topic of the city of Tokyo. Now, if you were writing a baseball-related column about Tokyo, dear reader, what might a salient point to bring up about said city be? Its undeniable passion for the sport? Its sizable population? Its distance from America?

(This space reserved for your answer: "Asian girls, dude, YEAHHHH.")

And now, Mr. Bisher's response:

That Tokyo, the guys who gave us Pearl Harbor.

Ah yes: that Tokyo. I imagine Mr. Bisher's conversations with Mrs. Bisher:

Mrs. Bisher:
Furmy, let's go see my sister in Chicago!
Mr. Bisher: You mean Chicago as in the guys who gave us the Great Chicago Fire of 1871? Unlikely, Miriam!

--

Mrs. Bisher: Furms, I'm so excited. We've won a trip to Seville!
Mr. Bisher: Seville, the guys who gave us the Spanish Inquistion? Thanks but no thanks!

--

The year 2024
Mrs. Bisher: Furry-man, we've been chosen by President Efron to be the first tourists in space!
Mr. Bisher: Space? The space that gave us the Challenger disaster? I wouldn't dream of it!

--

Pearl Harbor was a bad scene, people. It was also over 66 years ago. When Pearl Harbor happened, baseball didn't allow black people to play and only citizens who owned horses were allowed to watch the games. You don't see African-Americans and the horseless boycotting the game now, do you?

Some people don’t like you to bring that up, trade with Japan is so hot. But I’ve got a long memory. I saw what a few bombs can do to our property.

I like to think that it's only from extensive personal experience that Furman Bisher has learned that some people don't like you to bring up Pearl Harbor -- that he was constantly dropping it into conversations at dinner parties, especially ones with Japanese-American guests.

"I saw what those bombs can do, boy, I'll tell you! Pass me another barbecue wing, will you, Kunichi?"

"My name is Mark."

The point is, if we're going to have an unlimited statute of limitations on holding sporting events where bad shit went down or where bad shit was planned, there ain't gonna be no sports, dude. Even Atlanta did some fucked up shit once, man. Believe it.

Labels: ,


posted by Junior  # 8:27 PM
Comments: Post a Comment

<< Home

Archives

04.05   05.05   06.05   07.05   08.05   09.05   10.05   11.05   12.05   01.06   02.06   03.06   04.06   05.06   06.06   07.06   08.06   09.06   10.06   11.06   12.06   01.07   02.07   03.07   04.07   05.07   06.07   07.07   08.07   09.07   10.07   11.07   12.07   01.08   02.08   03.08   04.08   05.08   06.08   07.08   08.08   09.08   10.08   11.08  

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?