I think one of the reasons my generation is so lost, self absorbed, apathetic and generally obsessed with various forms of hedonism is that who do we really have to believe in these days?

I'm sure everyone here's heard of Steve McNair. Just in case you haven't, he was an amazing football player who was shot and killed on the 4th of July. But, we'll get back to that.

See, Steve McNair played for the Tennessee Titans, who are my local representatives for what is undoubtedly Gods favorite sport and his 2nd greatest gift to man kind...the NFL. Thusly, I was like a mile away when the news broke, and knew before Reuters did. But, I will get back to this, as well.



That night, me and my old man and my mother went to a AAA league Baseball game, the Nashville Sounds. As the game was getting rained out in the top of the 4th inning, I had a moment to think about something. We have always loved out heros. Always. But who do we have now? I honestly can't think of anyone who has the broad appeal to garner mass support but really and truly isn't a severe dissapointment.


20, 30 years ago, sports and atheletes had character. I can't think of his name, but someone who played for the Indianapolis Colts broke his leg in Super Bowl 3, and refused to be taken off the field till the game was done. Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier. Jesse Owens won 4 gold medals to tell Hitler to shove it up his ass, in Berlin, in 1936.

In 1980, a group of amateur hockey players took the ice against the Russian olympic team, the biggest, meanest, ugliest sons of bithes to ever grab some sticks. And against all odds, against all logic and convention, they actually beat them, with a last second goal. David had defeated Goliath.


And don't even get me started on Muhammed Ali.

Now we have Donte Stallworth getting drunk, killing a guy, and getting 30 days in jail and being suspended for what will amount to less than aa year from football. We have Plaxico Burres walking into a night club and shooting himself in the leg with a gun tucked into his own pants.



On July 4th, Americas Day to be proud to be American, we have Steve McNair found shot dead with his mistress in the condo they shared. His children woke up this morning to find out that their dad was dead because he was having sex with another woman.



And as such, what was once a source of pride is now a source of shame. I could go into the elitism and the idol worship that makes this possible. The fact that as much as we'd really like to point at the players themselves and place the blame, the fact is that we are the culture that not only allows, but truthfully, encourages this type of bullshit. But for right now, that's what ever.




More than anything, I just want my Autumn Sundays back. More than anything, I want to go to a baseball game and not talk about steroids and salaries, but what Pujols or Ortiz brings to the game.