Hello! As I have been lazy this month (mostly due to the countless hours spent online shopping for the familia) I'm posting an editorial from a guest blogger. Please enjoy this piece from my Uncle Boom: professional lawyer & amateur fireworks display man.
LOSE THE CLICHÉ GATORADE SHOWER!
As the final seconds ticked off the scoreboard clock in the LSU Tigers convincing 42-10 win in the SEC Championship Game over the Georgia Bulldogs, winning coach, Les Miles received the traditional ice cold Gatorade shower from his jubilant players. It's a silly and potentially dangerous way to punctuate such a sweet moment in sports. Some of the most successful coaches are in their 60's or even 70's. The shock of an icy shower at the peak moment of the adrenaline pumping exhilaration of a huge win could well put any of these men into cardiac arrest.
Years ago, players celebrated a big victory by hoisting the coach on their shoulders and carrying him off the field. We remember the iconic black and white photo of jubilant Green Bay Packers carrying legendary coach Vince Lombardi off the field after winning the NFL championship decades ago. It was so much more dignified and respectful than subjecting the boss to a freezing cold shower which in Green Bay was likely to be in sub-zero weather. The NCAA and NFL should ban this foolish practice.
And, while we're examining silly sports rituals, let's do away with the locker room champagne showers that celebrate championships of every description, from division championships in major league baseball, hockey and basketball, to Super Bowl, Stanley Cup and NBA championships. What a shameful waste of the bubbly (oh, I know it's not Dom Perignon, but it's still drinkable). You'd think the players would want to drink it instead of spraying it around the locker room and using it as an expensive shampoo substitute.
The champagne ritual is so predictable that both teams in a championship game have a case or two on ice, corks ready for popping in the event of a victory. Players know the drill and come to the locker room prepared with swimming goggles to protect their eyes from the acidic nectar.
Reporters reluctantly wade into post-game interviews in rain gear and boots and lockers are protected from the spray with plastic covering. What a silly exercise! I can imagine the losers' locker room, totally quiet and subdued with disappointment, as players sit drinking a bottle or two of bubbly to drown their sorrows at falling short of the ultimate prize. No championship rings for them, but they do get to savor the champagne that was on ice to celebrate a hoped for win.
And then, there are the boxes of ball caps and T-shirts freshly stenciled with the team logo and championship accolades: "LSU NATION--- SEC CHAMPIONS--- 2011--- WE'RE #1". The winning players don the festive gear for post game interviews, many wearing the hats backwards with the price tags still attached, dangling in their faces.
The inaugural Big Ten Championship Game in Indianapolis featured an extra "surprise?" for the victorious Wisconsin Badgers, dozens and dozens of red roses to symbolize their New Years Day berth in the Rose Bowl against Oregon. Makes one wonder what the losing Michigan State Spartans did with their supply of roses, or whether the Big Ten supplied the props. Somehow, a burly football player strutting proudly with a rose stem clenched in his teeth is a very uncomfortable image.
Both teams have prepared for a victory and have the hats and T-shirts at the ready for the big celebration they expect. Only one will be the champion. I wonder what happened to the apparel emblazoned with "GEORGIA BULLDOGS, SEC CHAMPS, 2011" or "MICHIGAN STATE SPARTANS, BIG 10 CHAMPS, 2011". Were they distributed to the players with the admonition that they are never to be worn? Were they burned as a symbol of their hopes and aspirations going down in flames? Were they donated to charity? Who knows?
Sports clichés mark the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. They are hackneyed traditions embedded deep in the fabric of competitive athletics. But, as one seasoned coach admonished his player about an exuberant end zone celebration after a touchdown, "Son, act like you've been there before."
The winning coach should ride off the field on the shoulders of his players, not drenched in Gatorade. Champagne should be quaffed, not sprayed around a locker room. Players should act as if they've won it all before...even if they haven't.
Admittedly, none of this is likely to happen, but at least cut off the price tags before you don the ball caps and go on camera. And, the cliché photo op moment
