Dear kind-hearted, well-mannered, and talented professional athletes:
Please be easier to hate. Without nasty-mouthed, entitled, girlfriend-beating athletes, I have no other low bar by which to compare my behavior and feel superior. Well, I do have the presidential candidates, but come on, step it up.
With the start of the Masters today and the Spurs playing the Warriors tonight, I’m scratching my head a little. The constellation of supernova athletes is blinding – and they’re all the good guys. I need a villain. I need to sit on my hands for want of face smacking. I need to want to puke every time the smug mug of a coach or owner violates my TV screen. I miss the days when Tiger Woods and the Mavericks were relevant. Indignation without the righteous part just feels unhealthy. Can you help a sister out?
Look at the Day 1 leaderboard: On top, you’ve got the purest of the white hats, my boy Spieth, with Danny Lee and Shane Lowry to follow. Jordan, you know your orange blood and short game make me love you, but could you maybe just drop the “aw-shucks” for five seconds and name the biggest prick in the clubhouse? I need someone to hate. Anything will do – does Bubba always treat his caddy like the hotel help? Or maybe Dustin Johnson likes to kick a kitten before his tee time. I mean, how do you hate a guy like Day? Did you see his adorable litter in their matching caddy gear? You guys suck. You’re impossible to hate. And even if there was a superdick among you, the level of play is so universally ridiculous that I’d probably forgive the kitten kicking. I couldn’t have held a beer in that wind today, let alone shot 66.
And now you, Golden State. Screw you. Obviously, the cliffhanger test would reveal where my loyalties lie, but come on...it’s getting increasingly annoying as I search for things to hate about you. Stephen, the corners of my mouth turn up against my will every time you redraw the three-point line. And could you maybe pop off at the mouth about something other than equal rights? Your COO basically invented All-Star Weekend, and is like, a fearless advocate. Worst. Villains. Ever.
Because of you, kind-hearted, well-mannered, and talented professional athletes, I’m not really sure I know how to be a sports fan anymore. The Spurs used to be the nice guy cheese that stood alone. I know I should be glad that there are so many new role models and all that, but I’m just confused. So, if you could, go out. Get drunk. Hit someone. Send those angry tweets about Taylor Swift. Someone, please, be the bad guy.