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Interview with a Pee Paw: The Dreaded Sportless Day of Summer

Former player and Minnesota Vikings head coach from 1961 to 1966, Norman Van Brocklin has a unique view on the team. He offers his perspective in his own column aptly titled “Interviews with a PeePaw”. Today, he discuss the most dreaded day of the year; the day after the All Star break in the summer, the worst sportless day of the year!


“Gawd damn it, this is the worst fuckin’ day of the entire fuckin’ year. I hate that Maxi Pad pro sport baseball as it is, but at least when they play games durin’ the summer months you can have that queer game on in the back to lull you to a wonderful afternoon nap. But today, this day after that Sally flippin’ All Star game? Jesus pole smoker, this is the worst day of the entire year. What do I have to entertain myself with? A woman? Ha, son, you have a lot of growin’ up to do if you think I’m awastin’ my time with some damned skirt! You idiot fool. That’s why you’re wearin’ tight colored jeans with your perfectly quaffed hair and lady like manicured nails, ain’t it? Spendin’ too much time with the axe wounds, you little shit stain.


That’s what I hate about this here day; it takes away my natural right as a man to enjoy a sportin’ activity even if I care so very damned little about that said sport. Today, I have nothin’. No stickball to watch, no golf to sleep to, not even any of that pansy euro trash soccer game they play. Today, I would even watch them fall over all of the time and cry over their adolescent skinned knees instead of this hell I’m goin’ to end up goin’ through. Fuck. Now I’ll have to take the missus out for a two hour walk by the lake, or help her pick out a new outfit that will put a dent in the ol’ money clip. Damn woman! You think these dollar bills grow on trees like crabs grow in your bushes? Shit, I remember when I was these kids age that I would get 25 cents a week for an allowance and be happy that I could pay for my shingles prescription! Now-a-days, you have ungrateful little brats whinin’ if they don’t get their music computer device-a-majig to ignore their parents with! Well, I tell ya, not in my house, kid. Now get your mascured face off my lawn.

That’s why our society can’t afford to have these unpatriotic sportless days. You know what graces my favorite television box today? Fucking news stories about glorified pedophiles funerals and broads playin’ that indoor netball game. Gawd damnit. What’s next, women being professors? A black president? I swear, they need to extend these sports seasons, and fast, to toughen up some sally bag’s britches before we all turn into a bunch a queers with our limp wrists hangin’ around and we find that we’re bein’ invaded by them damn commie Ruskies or the Nazi Germans again. Get you hands out of your pants today, you worthless little fuck wagons, and go pick up some pigskin with the fellas and bruise yourself up today, this horrible day without any meaningful sports, or I’ll take my belt off and bleed ya myself.

Don’t even begin to think I’m lyin’, boy, I’ll do it. Right after I get this nap in …”