Those regularly drawn to this rant like lookie-loos espying a multi-car pile-up may recall my early March tirade about the Chargers heading back home to LA. For those, who regret not catching it, here’s a relevant snippet:
Go. I’m sick of the mega elite at the helm of this team—and most other major sport franchises—whining about the lack of a competitive building to house their multi-million dollar industry. Gee, doesn’t every major, All-American, “god”-fearing city fork over millions of taxpayer dollars to construct “offices” for Qualcomm, IBM, Apple, General Motors, and every other major private business?
To listen to the Spanos family and its representatives, you would think the Chargers were a latter day Oliver Twist being sadistically denied a mere serving of gruel. This is particularly guiling when you learn that Spanos is willing to build a new stadium in Carson without taxpayer contribution.
Yes, you’re right I was pretty disgusted. Then, my Bronco-loving, Peyton-humping sister-in-law, Jan, tosses a penalty flag at my feet—in the form of a Charger onesie destined for proud wear by our four-month-old grandson, Jakob. And, like driving me back to my own goal line, the penalty gets enforced by two hot Charger Girls, caught slobbering all over him at Oggi’s Pizza, proud sponsors of … well, you catch the drift.
I was thrown for a major loss. Must I recant in the spirit of supporting my young grandson? A dim light flickered inside an otherwise vacant cranium. Aha, my sister-in-law, who would never otherwise touch anything akin to Charger blue and gold, hoped to entrap me for one more season of agony. Sure, Jan, use our grandson to lure me into cheering for this LA-bound group of miscreants just so you can take sadistic pleasure in watching me suffer through the humiliation of being trounced again (and once more for good measure) by the Broncos.
Well, I’m not buying in. No way. Like I said in March: go San Diego Gulls—at least until 2037, when Jakob gets drafted.