God for a day? Me? Thanks, don’t mind if I do.
Richie Almighty. I like the sound of that.
Okay, first, bye-bye cancer. Hurricanes = gone. No more wasted money on explorations to the Moon. Resources once pegged for NASA and NASCAR are now tripled and funneled toward the implementation of computerized, flawless sports officiating. All road construction will be done at night. Snakes, extinct. Sharks, poof. Mosquitos, sayonara. Oh, and Chris Berman, you’re time is up. You too, Nancy Grace.
Bud Selig, you’re a janitor. College football, you have an 8-team playoff. I’m putting a stop to high ankle sprains, sports hernias and multiple retirements.
As for football? Yeah, I’ve got some plans.
Technology. I want advanced technology. Lots of it.
If we can put radios in helmets and hang 80-yard video boards and give life to the Fox Robot, surely we can drag the game itself into the 21st Century. With the extra cash I’ve trimmed off the budget (see above), we’ll have GPS devices in every ball and laser-lined yard and boundary markers. Sorry, rudimentary chain gangs – and their stupid duct tape – are immediately shipped to the Smithsonian as artifacts.
And another thing, from this day forth the NFL will be the NAL. Goodbye, football. Hello, armball.
Don’t know about you, but I’m sick and tired of kickers. All of ’em. Time and again we watch elite athletes bang facemasks for 59 minutes, only to trot out a skinny little wimp to decide their ultimate fate. It’s archaic, really. More than that, it’s just plain wrong.
We pay quarterbacks, by far, the most money. Shouldn’t they have, by far, the most direct impact?
In the National Armball League, every kick will be replaced by a “P for K” throw. Worked for us in the schoolyard, right? On fourth-and-10, Tony Romo’s arm – not Mat McBriar’s foot – will launch the ball downfield. Same thing after his team scores. And field goals? Just like stewardesses, a thing of the past.
In the NAL, the goal posts are actually hoops. Three of them, stacked top-to-bottom in ascending circumference. A ball thrown through the largest one is worth one point, two for the middle and three for the top, smallest one.
Imagine, instead of having Nick Folk attempt a game-deciding 47-yard field goal, wouldn’t we rather watch Romo try to win it by throwing a football through a tiny hoop?
Oh yeah, one last thing. Almost forgot.
Free. Beer. – Richie Whitt
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