I like to play Scrabble. It is a game I enjoy playing as often as I can. It takes a considerable amount of time to play a single game, so I obviously do not get to play it as often as I would like. So those precious moments I am able to spare playing this game I enjoy very much. If, in the most unlikely of circumstances that I was given the opportunity to play this game on a professional level I would aspire to be the very best scrabble player known to man. To make my living by participating in a game that I enjoy would be an opportunity that I would not take lightly. There I am at the Houston Astrodome. The Scrabble Championship of the World. As I slowly walk towards the championship arena, I hear the crowds loud, frenetic chanting amidst the hot, glaring lights. Christian! Christian! As I take my seat in front of the championship board, I gaze at my opening tiles. I see the letters Q, R, U, K, A, T, E. I realize that I am off to a triumphant start and have a warmed over feeling of satisfaction. A comfortable feeling that makes me feel at one with the universe. I am able to make a living at game I love to play. I ask myself who could ask for anything more? As I shake off the shackles of my dream world I awake to the stark reality of the real world.
The average salary of a major league baseball player is $2,383,235. $2,383,235! That's a big chunk of change to be earning for throwing and hitting a little ball around for a couple of hours a night. Sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me. Well according to recent news reports, apparently not. It is rumored that come July 11th, the boys of summer are possibly going to go on strike. Strike!? Again!? Didn't these athletes learn their lesson the last time they did this? Attendance is down. Revenues are down. Television ratings are down. Why? Because fans were so pissed off the last time the players had a strike, many of them refuse to watch the game anymore. Who can blame them? I find it one of the most ludicrous concepts to even comprehend. Professional baseball player is unhappy with his current situation and will not "play" anymore "games" for ungodly amounts of cash until he gets a better deal so that he can make more ungodly amounts of cash. Excuse me for not being able to sympathize with their situation, but let me give it a shot. Poor, poor baseball player. Has to spend an entire summer, traveling around the country playing baseball with a bunch of other guys. How does he do it? The unintelligible pain of writer's cramp from signing so many autographs. The stress of being the spokesman for lucrative endorsement deals. Having to drag yourself out of bed every morning, order room service, put on that uniform and put yourself through another agonizing afternoon of playing baseball. The horror! The horror!
I mean were not talking about a group of coal miners or firemen who have
to go through endless days of back breaking labour just to put food on
the table. No, were talking about a bunch of guys who dress up in cute
little uniforms, making hideous amounts of dough playing a game that many
common people participate in their spare time for free! The whole idea
of a "professional" sportsman taking this kind of action is
an reprehensible concept to the nth degree. It's like Michael Jordan walking
up to fan and saying this, " Hey thanks for coming to the game! Thanks
for spending all your hard earned money on the tickets, our over priced
merchandise, hideously expensive alcoholic beverages and unappetizing
nachos from the snack bar. I just want to shake your hand in appreciation
for making me extremely wealthy. Oh wait there's just one more thing."
It's at this point Jordan pulls out a giant hammer from behind his back,
knocks the fan out, urinates on the back of his head and steps on his
spine as he makes way to the limousine waiting for him outside of the
arena. Kudos to you sportsmen!
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