Cut the Cliches Already!

Ah, we are well into one of my favorite times of the year. No, not the holiday season, FOOTBALL SEASON! Now, there are three subjects I rarely write about: sports, politics, and sex. It's not because I don't like those three subjects (heck, I've played and coached sports, I vote, and the third subject, well, that's none of your business). Still, I don't write much about them because I sometimes confuse the three--now that I think on it, that confusion could be part of the reason I am divorced, but we're getting off track here.

Yes, I love football as much as the next guy, and I feel a bit of a let down at season's end. But there is a bright spot when that time rolls around; I no longer have to listen to the insipid football cliches uttered by sports commentators. I mean, come on, by the end of the season I'm ready to puncture every football in the sporting goods section of every Wal-Mart in town! Obviously, these goonbaw announcers haven't figured out how weary their tired, old football vernacular has become over the years.

So, what follows are a few examples of some of the more hideously, redundant cliches that we are stuck listening to, that is unless you like watching football in closed captioning.

* "Now there's a player!" You think? Could be that's why the dude being referred to as a player is wearing a uniform, is on the field playing, and has a house full of trophies that represent all of his great achievements in the sport.

* Then there's the cliche used to describe a kicker who can kick the ball a fair distance, "He's got plenty of leg!" Does this mean the kicker has just one leg but it's size is huge? Or maybe it means one of his legs is bigger than the other. Perhaps the commentator is referring to his son who grabbed a piece of chicken at dinner the night before.

* "Now there's a player with the whole package." You know, I've yet to find said player who has entered the field with a package, whole or otherwise. Since we're discussing the whole package, a whole package of what? And is that as opposed to a half of a package? And what's in the package that's so important the player feels the need to bring it with him onto the football field?Inquiring minds want to know.

* "And from there he'll try to punch it in." This sounds more like a new sport which combines boxing and football. Would that new game be called foxing or bootball? Of course the commentator could be referring to one of the grounds crew as he inserted his time card into the "clock" before leaving.

* When speaking of a team's ability to stop the run we often here the announcers say, "yeah, they'll sure flatten your tires." This sounds more like the description of a gang of juvenile delinquents than it does a football game.

* "I'll tell yuh what (the favorite four words of all sports commentators are I'll tell yuh what), that kid's got heart!" Now, I'm now Einstein, and I know everyone reading this is thinking, "Naw," but I'd venture to say that if the kid didn't have heart he wouldn't be on the football field. No, he'd be lying in a cemetery somewhere.

Yes, if one wishes to watch football on T.V., there's no way to avoid the cliches often used by sportscasters. All one can do is grit one's teeth and hope they take a speech class or two in the near future.

As for me, I'm going to watch Monday Night Football. The Indianapolis Colts are playing the Pittsburgh Steelers. I'll tell yuh what, those are two teams that have heart and can flatten your tires.

Keep an Eye on That Davenport!

Davenports sure can be deceiving. Isn't it amazing how they look so innocent and serene when, in fact, they're nothing but CLOTHES-SUCKING, COIN-GRABBING,TOY-GULPING MONSTERS?!

I mean, anytime something in my house is missing, the first place we look is under the couch. It seems that's where all of our worldly possessions end up.

One morning, oldest son was running around the house like a dog that had been wormed with turpentine. It seems he couldn't find his shoes and he was late for school. Finally, after tearing the house apart looking for them, he lifted the couch to check under it. As oldest son raised the sofa, I couldn't believe my eyes. Not only were his shoes under there, but there were at least two dump-truck loads of assorted goods under that couch. Why, there was everything from toys to coloring books to enough clothes to stock a Wal-Mart!

Nothing seems exempt from the clutches of the davenport either. One time, middle son asked younger brother where he might find a certain board game. Younger brother said,"look under the couch." He did . . . and it was.

In fact, I believe that's where my dad met my mother. He was looking under the sofa for a lost pair of old stale socks and there she was.

You know, now that I think about it, the next time my neighbor asks for his power tool that I borrowed a while back and misplaced, I think I'll just point to the living room and tell him, "look under the couch."

And my advice to everyone is, unless the pockets of your pants have zippers on them, never sit down on a couch. Anything and everything inside your pockets is very likely to be pilfered by the beast and disappear into the deep, dark crevice's of its cushions.

Oh, how those sofas can be sly devils too. Why, you'll sit down on one, visit with a friend a while, then head home not even suspecting that your pockets have been looted. It'll be days before you'll realize what happened, and since possession is 9/10ths of the law you can forget about reclaiming your goods. A court would never uphold your claim, and besides, if you go before a judge, claiming that someone's davenport robbed you, you could very well end up being put in a rubber room, wearing one of those funny little white jackets with the sleeves that tie in the back.

You know, it was years before I realized that the thievery of our sofa was the reason why my kids, when they were younger, always became hyper when company paid a visit. At first, I thought it was because my children enjoyed socializing. Not so. You see, after our visitors left, the kids would immediately go on a treasure hunt, tearing apart the sofa in search of any trinkets the couch might have pilfered from the pockets of our unsuspecting guests.

One time, the kids even found the neighbor's cat under the sofa after it had been missing for a week. Another time, ex-wife found a pair of pantyhose under the couch. They weren't hers. I had some splainin' to do, until she finally remembered. They belonged to her sister. She'd borrowed them. They disappeared before she could return them.

Well, got to go. A neighbor just called requesting my help. It seems her four-year-old son has wandered off and wants my help in finding him. Hmmm, I wonder if she's looked under her couch.