I have, after much donut-fueled deliberation, determined that there are two, sports-related reasons my America continues to be the Best Place to Live on Earth Despite What Alec Baldwin Says.
Reason #1: We don’t care about soccer.
Reason #2: We don’t care about Formula 1 racing.
When France head-butted its way to defeat against Italy some time last week to claim the 2006 FIFA World Cup, approximately 12 million people in the United States were tuned in. This was, according to ABC who broadcast the game, an amazing number. Sure, it paled in comparison to the 91 million who watched the Super Bowl. Or to the 25 million who watch American Idol every week. And it’s about the same number of people who actually enjoy watching Charlie “What Kiddie Porn?” Sheen and Jon Cryer on “Two and a Half Men.” That’s right, the once-every-four-years finale to the Most Popular Sport on the Planet pulled down similar numbers as the Famous Teddy “Duckie” Z does on a Thursday night. Sweetness.
Formula 1 racing fares even worse. Running on a tape delay and getting numbers that would make UPN blush. The rest of the world finds this as puzzling as our refusal to declare the Constitution the property of Kofi Annan.
But why does our collective yawning at these mega-sports validate my jingoistic assertion of American superiority? Simple: These sports are boring, pointless affairs that I would compare to watching paint dry if doing so weren’t an insult to the memory of Bob Ross.
Soccer, which goes by the hardcore moniker of “footie” in the rest of the world, involves a great deal of running about, chasing a ball and, apparently, attempting to tie the other team. As we all know, ties lead to hooliganism.
“But wait,” I hear the Europhiles opining, “America’s favorite pastime is baseball and it’s a yawnfest, too!” Okay, I’ll give you that baseball is much more exciting to play than it is to watch. But still, baseball revolves around a guy throwing a small, hard object at another man’s head at upwards of ninety miles an hour. And to defend himself, we give the other man a stick. Bean balls are hurled. Tobacky is spit. Spikes are spiked. Fisticuffs ensue.
Footie involves an elaborate game of keep-away where touching is generally frowned upon. The toughest thing footie has is tackling. Not real tackling, mind you. Eurotackling. In footie, a “tackle” is when one player trips another and the tripee rolls around in faux pain hoping to draw a penalty. Apparently, when you play footie, everyone is French.
In F1, multimillion-dollar cars form an expensive parade behind the dominant driver and, if we’re lucky, exchange the lead in the pits. It’s a less entertaining display of skill than Sylvester Stallone’s epic drama “Driven.” NASCAR may just be a bunch of guys turning left, but at least they pass each other on a routine basis.
Still with me? Wow, you have more stamina than I.
To summarize: footie and F1 are boring. America is generally smart enough to eschew boring things (as proof I offer non-president Al Ja-gorezza). Europe is not (another “Pride and Prejudice” mini-series anyone?).
Ergo, we rock.
Later,
Fox
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