So few of us get a nice clearly defined moment in our lives where we can say:
“I did exactly what I set out to do.  How do I know?  Here’s the result, right here in my hand.”

Most of us don’t even get:
“I fucked up.  It’s over, and I fucked up.  How do I know?  There’s the result, right over there, and it’s not in my hand.”

This is why we like sports so much.

An exact outcome.

These lucky bastards get to, at the end of the game, match, heat, point right at the result and know exactly where they stand.

Did they get the job done?  Or did some other bastard step up and take it for themselves?

Now that’s American.

You either kick ass or get your ass kicked.  And there’s a concrete, a solid, a point-to-able outcome.

‘Cause we Americans we hate gray areas.

Give us a winner!  Give us an underdog to root for, so they can beat the winner and become a winner!

No uncertainties, no doubts, no fears.

Resolution.

Think about all the unresolved bits flying around in your life.

School, kids, relationship, your job, and the REAL American pastime… worrying about your debt.

How many of these things will ever actually resolve?  And how many will resolve only to have the resolution dissolve in your hands and the nagging doubts return?

As I am sure you know, nature tends toward Entropy (grab onto something bolted down… it’s going to be a wild ride until I reach my point).

This statement basically means that shit falls apart, and it takes effort, usually human effort, to make shit stay together or resolve in a “satisfactory” manner… to get “closure” if you will.

You see, Entropy never stops.  Because even when the details fall off the structure, the structure dies too.  Then whatever the structure was based on erodes to a skeleton of its former self, and then all these little bits of effort meld into a congealed ugly mass, and then that too begins to disappear.

The universe doesn’t like resolution, absolutes, for-sures, or perfects.

There are no winners or losers, just the dead and the dying.  The universe has no theme music, no button ending, no perfect exit line, no last minute shot to win the game…  It’s the gag that keeps on gagging.

So these sports bastards are lucky.  And they don’t even get why.

They think they are blessed to get paid piles of cash to play a kids game.  They (and we) think it’s about the money and the endorsements.

The fame and the attention.

It ain’t.  It’s that moment they get to look back on and know, know for certain

that they had (or hadn’t) what it took.

And they can hold and admire their prize…

                                                            As it decays…

Fuck ‘em.

Fuck Entropy.

Make your own goddamn win column, and fill it with whatever is lying around.

Your favorite childhood toy, broken promises, the pen you lost in the third grade, some piece of plastic that you’ll find lying on the ground today, a clothes hanger, all your bounced checks, the virus your computer picked up yesterday, the first time you tied your shoes, your eleventh grade chemistry book, that snotty wadded up tissue you threw at the trashcan but missed and its been sittin’ there ever since.

Go ahead fill it up.

We’re all going down

                                                go down a winner.