Friday, September 08, 2006
Pittsburgh Karma Train
It’s just about every 22 year old’s dream to come storm the NFL, crack the starting lineup right away, win 13 out of your first 15 games, and within two years of your debut, win a Super Bowl. I’ve always liked Ben Roethelisberger; he’s a big, tough boy who can throw, manage a game, and take a lick. As of February, the luckiest man in the world had somehow stumbled upon the starting job for one of the most well-run and well-coached franchises in the country. Not to take anything away from him, but it didn’t take a John Elway performance to lead them to the Super Bowl.
Flash to June 12, 2006, and Rothelisberger is on the ground, maybe minuetes away from a debilitating or life-ending injury, at the hands of a MOTORCYCLE. Yes, the same moronic vehicle that ended the promising career of former Chicago Bulls 1st pick Jayson Williams, and has seriously questioned that of Cleveland Browns Tight End Kellen Winslow III. To add to the irony, Rothelisberger had previously spoken out about not wearing a helmet when he rides, because he felt that he was a safe rider.
Roethelisberger, undisputedly is lucky to be alive. And that’s worth more than when someone we know is lucky to be alive, because our lives aren’t worth shit. I get up, go to class, sit in the library for 4 hours and then try and drink away my depressions for a couple of hours before I start up that process again. If I die in a motorcycle accident—not wearing a helmet of course—it wouldn’t be bad luck. It might be sad (arguable), but not ironic.
Roethelisberger had it made too much. And he got lucky again. So is it a surprise to anyone, that early this week, after he had worked through the accident’s (relatively) minor injuries to prepare for Thursday’s NFL opener against the Dolphins, that he came down with Appendicitis? All the sports writers could was say “Oh, Ben! He’s soooo unlucky!”
Now, I told you. I like Ben Roethelisberger. He’s my homes. But he should have woken up from the appendectomy and said, “Thank you, G-d, may I have another?” He’s due for about 30 more minor, inconvenient, “unlucky” surgeries over the next 50 years, for the luck he has had over the last 30 months.
I hope he gets better, especially for my fantasy team’s sake (ugh, like that’s not going to get annoying real fast). I don’t wish poor health to anyone, except fat sports writers from Kansas City, and people from Green Bay and Oklahoma and St. Louis. But you owe all of us unlucky people in the world, Ben.
In other news, I can’t make it back to Austin for the big game Saturday, which is killing me. I miss that place like the devil. I am going to make it back to Chicago to watch it at the Texas Exes alumni bar, with fellow SS writer Brian Grossman. Maybe BGamsey can give us a report from the game. My prediction: Texas 25, OSU 22. Seem familiar? It will.
Hook ‘em Horns and have a safe weekend.
Flash to June 12, 2006, and Rothelisberger is on the ground, maybe minuetes away from a debilitating or life-ending injury, at the hands of a MOTORCYCLE. Yes, the same moronic vehicle that ended the promising career of former Chicago Bulls 1st pick Jayson Williams, and has seriously questioned that of Cleveland Browns Tight End Kellen Winslow III. To add to the irony, Rothelisberger had previously spoken out about not wearing a helmet when he rides, because he felt that he was a safe rider.
Roethelisberger, undisputedly is lucky to be alive. And that’s worth more than when someone we know is lucky to be alive, because our lives aren’t worth shit. I get up, go to class, sit in the library for 4 hours and then try and drink away my depressions for a couple of hours before I start up that process again. If I die in a motorcycle accident—not wearing a helmet of course—it wouldn’t be bad luck. It might be sad (arguable), but not ironic.
Roethelisberger had it made too much. And he got lucky again. So is it a surprise to anyone, that early this week, after he had worked through the accident’s (relatively) minor injuries to prepare for Thursday’s NFL opener against the Dolphins, that he came down with Appendicitis? All the sports writers could was say “Oh, Ben! He’s soooo unlucky!”
Now, I told you. I like Ben Roethelisberger. He’s my homes. But he should have woken up from the appendectomy and said, “Thank you, G-d, may I have another?” He’s due for about 30 more minor, inconvenient, “unlucky” surgeries over the next 50 years, for the luck he has had over the last 30 months.
I hope he gets better, especially for my fantasy team’s sake (ugh, like that’s not going to get annoying real fast). I don’t wish poor health to anyone, except fat sports writers from Kansas City, and people from Green Bay and Oklahoma and St. Louis. But you owe all of us unlucky people in the world, Ben.
In other news, I can’t make it back to Austin for the big game Saturday, which is killing me. I miss that place like the devil. I am going to make it back to Chicago to watch it at the Texas Exes alumni bar, with fellow SS writer Brian Grossman. Maybe BGamsey can give us a report from the game. My prediction: Texas 25, OSU 22. Seem familiar? It will.
Hook ‘em Horns and have a safe weekend.
