This is some commentary I wrote elsewhere, Marches ago. It is my interpretation of how awful it must be for athletes who talk to the press after a big loss.
I can’t speak for all of you, but not since childhood has anyone subjected me to the sorta inquisition and criticism athletes face after games.
How utterly humbling. I always feel a wave of compassion and heartache for them, even the ones who are paid millions.
Oh sure, my husband’s always there to call me Grace and Moo’s always available to point out the majesty of my morning hair…and I’m all for personal responsibility, but…
Imagine if the press documented all your shortcomings.
Oh the grand capacity of hindsight!
Aren’t you glad that you don’t hafta give a press conference every time you fail some shit?
Me at press conference, apron in hand:
“Joey, I know you had four pots on the stove and that roast in the oven, but did you really not know the eye for the rice was still on?”
“You know, I just went out into the kitchen and did all that I could. I could blame the archaic hanging microwave for my oversight. My feet were playin up because standin on that tile is tough. But you know, when it comes down to it, I just didn’t cook as well as I could have. I let my family down. I let my dog down. But I can’t go back and undo it.”
“How do you think this will affect your plans for breakfast tomorrow?”
“Well I’m just gonna put that burnt rice incident behind me. You know, most of the rice was still edible. I realize I’m not perfect, but we still ate some damn good rice. So tomorrow, Imma get up and cook those grits and fry that ham, and hopefully nothing will be wasted and nothing will set the smoke detector off. Imma bring my A-game. Imma cook hard.”
Happy Friday Everyone!