Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Why Don't They Just Call It The BPCS: Bill Plaschke Championship Series

So Auburn goes out and wins the college football championship game Monday night, beating Oregon 22-19, in a at-times exciting but not consistently thrilling game.

Some writers used the opportunity to praise Auburn. Some writers used the opportunity to lament Oregon. Some writers used the opportunity to reflect upon the "twisted season" in college football this year. And some even pointed out Brent Musburger's pathetic product placement call.

But the LA Times' Bill Plaschke? For him, it's not about the players on the field or the coaches on the sideline or the fans in the stands. It's all about him. Bill Plaschke. This game is about HIM.

Down on the field, the winning kick sailed through the uprights at exactly 10:12 p.m.

Up in the press box, the first e-mails sailed into my inbox at, well, exactly 10:12 p.m.

Down on the field, there's drama unfolding. Up in the press box, sits a little man writing about the drama.

Down in the article, there's a lead being buried. Up in the article, there's a tired contrasting-sentences structure cliche being placed.

Up on the housetop, reindeer pause; out jumps good old Santa Claus. Down through the chimney with lots of toys; all for the little ones, Christmas joys.

That's e-mails, plural, both sent at the exact moment Wes Byrum's 19-yard field goal gave Auburn a 22-19 victory over Oregon on Monday night in the BCS national championship game.

Holy shit, you mean to tell me you got two emails sent to you at once? How incredible is that! I mean, that never happens to us ordinary mortals (unless we're forwarding email from our gmail accounts to work since the firewall at work keeps us from accessing the gmail account on our own (but then there's always our smartphones, so take that!, man who is keeping us down)).

Two emails at once: wow, that is indeed noteworthy of a sports page column. Go on.

Revenge was exact. Revenge was immediate. The Auburn and SEC fans were Nick Fairley, and I was an Oregon offensive lineman, and the bull rush was on.

And now Plaschke is George Plimpton (save the Intellivision shilling), actually imagining himself as a player on the field. Which he's not. Because he's a reporter, who is supposed to be covering a story--but in this case, the story happens to be him, so why the hell shouldn't he be an Oregon offensive lineman? Except for the fact that he didn't play in the game, didn't prepare for the game, he didn't expend an iota of energy in the game.

Sure, he can be a lineman. In fact, he can be whomever he wants in this ridiculous metaphor.

How about, the Auburn and SEC fans are Superman, and Plaschke is Mr. Mxyzptlk. Or the Auburn and SEC fans are truth, and Plaschke is lies. Or Auburn / SEC fans are chocolate, and Plaschke is peanut butter. Wait, scratch that last one.

"In honor of you, Mr. Bill, Waffle House has just announced a new feature item on their menu: Roasted Duck," wrote Steve in a striking first shot.

Which is an awesome (albeit not "striking") first shot, since I've eaten at a Waffle House and I don't think they serve duck. I'm not even sure if they serve real meat.

Literally seconds later, another one appeared. [...] Two rips in the first minute. Another rip just one minute later. [...]

There were 10 e-mails in the first 10 minutes, 50 by the end of the night, and as I'm writing this column Tuesday afternoon, more than 250 folks have e-mailed to remind me of something that was very clear through Monday night's chaos and confetti.

Now, Bill Plaschke getting a volume of emails may indeed be noteworthy, since I don't think many other people leave comments for the homeless guy with the tattered cardboard sign ranting to himself at the bottom of a Harbor Freeway off-ramp. Usually, when confronted by muttering lunatics, people just avert their eyes and move on. Plaschke may be shocked to find out that people actually read his earlier piece predicting an Oregon victory.

But people who make predictions sometimes miss predictions. It's not a big deal. It certainly doesn't merit 884 words, 17 of which are "I". A whole article reflecting on comments about another article one wrote earlier seems rather self-absorbed. Who does Plaschke think he is? Joel Stein?

There was a college football championship game going on, and Plaschke totally missed it because he was checking his own email account.

I thought that the whole idea why press boxes are situated high above the field at the center of the stadium, was to give the sportswriters the best vantage points to view the game in its entirety.

Apparently, BIll Plaschke's seat was situated squarely in front of a mirror.

6 comments:

Fred's Brim said...

I loved those Hyundai ads too

Dusty Baker said...

We need a good rant on Plaschke from KempKershaw. Where are you when we need you, man?

Dusty Baker said...

BTW, that George Plimpton line made my day.

Dustin Nosler said...

This is a thing of beauty. Bravo. Funniest thing I've read this week.

Typically, a good columnist would minimize or completely eliminate the use of "I" in a column. Notice I said "good" columnist. Oy vey.

Steve Sax said...

@Dusty, just for you I've added a parenthetical to Plimpton

Mr. LA Sports Czar said...

Plimpton hands down is the second greatest quarterback in Detroit history.