Judging from the storm of indignation and chestpuffery that ensued after the NFL’s decision to cancel last Sunday’s Vikings-Eagles game due to the forecast of a major blizzard (do I need to mention that it was, in fact, a major blizzard?), there can be nothing more important than millionaires in padded suits stumbling about after a turd-shaped bit of puffed-up leather. Never mind whether hundreds of cars might have crippled Philadelphia’s streets, that emergency vehicles and plows might not have been able to do their jobs, that people might have been stranded at the stadium, that someone, in all likelihood, might have spun out into a fatal crash: Jesus F. Christ there’s a football game to be played.
And Ed Rendell, governor of Pennsylvania, apparently feels the NFL’s regard for the safety of his state’s citizens is a symptom of the decline of our nation’s proud tradition of pretending to be utterly immune to anything but the bullheadedness of our own will: No, goddammit, let people wreck their cars, lose fingers and toes to frostbite, slide off black ice into bridge abutments, but unless we want the rest of the world to think we are – god forbid – “wusses,” football must be played.
Geez, Ed: Viagra supply running low or what?