It’s hard to get excited about professional sports these days. Though not all athletes are prima donnas, the ones that are suck all of the oxygen out of the room. Perhaps worst of all, though, the major sports leagues themselves have catered to the lowest common denominator among our ranks by virtue signaling to woke leftist identity politics.
The NFL just announced that every coaching staff has to have a non-white, non-male member, for example. As with Brandon’s selection of a non-white, non-male SCOTUS nominee, it’s impossible to avoid the glaring fact that white men are reviled. Irish need not apply? Coloreds around the back? That’s so 19th and 20th century, and also quite banal. This hatred of white men feels more closely related to the first step of wearing yellow stars.
We’re already racists, insurrectionists, and domestic terrorists. Far be it from me to connect the gigantic dots.
The PGA Tour has largely ignored this wave of gross pandering and utter condescension. That probably has something to do with the lack of self-righteous, bloviating athletes as seen in the NBA or the desire to alienate its predominantly white base. Maybe PGA executives feel the same way (I doubt it), but at least they don’t remind viewers every five seconds of their fake moral superiority. As a golf organization, they focus on golf. Imagine that.
Admittedly, this grotesque politicization didn’t take me from rabid fan to cord-cutting ascetic overnight. I was already losing interest in most sports on account of diminished play (when was the last time someone in the NBA boxed someone out for a rebound?), raising a family, reclaiming my Sundays for hobbies and travel, and the games themselves losing universally-loved players.
To that last point, as escapist as watching a round of golf might be, there is still something missing. (continued)
This post originally appeared on The Blue State Conservative.
