Pittsburgh and Los Angeles had a heck of a weekend, as I understand it. I didn’t watch either game, mostly because I don’t care about any of the teams, but I know how they turned out. Kobe Bryant has a non-Shaq-related ring, and Bing Sidney Crosby gets to carry around a big silvery cup for a day.
I’m not here to talk about the sports, I’m not even here to talk about why I don’t care about who won and who lost. No, I am here to ask–why not my city? When will I get a chance to burn a police car?
This has been a recurring theme in my life. I never end up living in the city of a championship team, and when one of my teams does win the championship of whatever sport it is they play, everyone heads downtown to climb a few lamp posts and smash some windows. Meanwhile, I’m hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away.
As many of my stalkers faithful readers know, I live outside Washington, D.C. a city that’s aching for a riot of some sort. The only championship this town wins is whatever they call the award in Major League Soccer. Here, the DC United win seemingly year after year, but no one cares because it’s soccer, which is only considered a sport on a technicality. Same thing goes for women’s basketball.
DC had a decent shot with the Capitals this year, but they got eliminated by the Penguins after they crapped the bed, and with the Nationals just 20 small games out of first in the National League East, I’m not optimistic about a Series victory. When, oh when, will it be my turn to throw a gas grenade back at the riot police?
If I could have been anywhere in the past year, it would have been in downtown Philadelphia after the Phillies won the World Series. Not because I was glad to see the Tampa Bay Fairweathers choke, but Philly knows how to properly celebrate. They rolled cars, looted stores, set fires where ever they felt like it, nearly dropped children. Heck, there was probably an instance of domestic assault or two involved the night’s festivities.
I wish I had been in Boston in 2007, when Bostonians were getting so used to championships storefronts stopped bothering to repair their glass windows because they would only last a month or two and the fans got to know their arresting officers by their first names. I dream, one day, that I will get to riot in our nation’s capital, but for the forseeable future, it remains nothing but a dream. So to you, Pittsbugh and L.A. fans, I say, just once set that cop car on fire for me.
Well, you could go to Iran…