Right in the ol' Kornheiser

I've long suspected that life is a zero-sum game. The awful symmetry is usually cloaked by a baroque accounting system that obfuscates via geography, temporality, scale, and old-fashioned smoke & mirrors. But once in a while, you can see a tight little couplet of yin & yang just hanging out, untroubled by its own obviousness.

I really enjoy football, but this enjoyment is perfectly canceled out by how much I fucking hate football commentary. Every Devin Hester juke is negated by an absurd causal narrative involving "momentum" spun by Jaworski. Every Adrian Peterson spin move is negated by smug moralizing from Kornheiser. For every time Urlacher reads the play and splits the offensive line, someone will say "in the National Football League" or "at the end of the day" or "no question." Where are today's Summeralls?* End the reign of the sports talk radio paradigm!

*Summerall would never discuss the "fantasy implications" of Brian Westbrook's flop on the one-yard line. He would spit out his mouthful of brandy and bellow "A heads-up play by Westbrook, tackling himself on the one," and for a minute you'd think it was Dylan Thomas reading "And Death Shall Have No Dominion." Then Summerall would call him "Michael Westbrook," breaking the spell; Dylan Thomas wouldn't make that mistake.

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