Announcing a New, Politically Correct Name for the Washington Redskins

Announcing a New, Politically Correct Name for the Washington Redskins

This helmet has been at the center of a heated controversy for years. Many people feel the name “Redskins” is an offensive stereotype for millions of Native Americans. There have been many calls for a less offensive team name. One suggestion which I suspect might not get the nod: The “Washington Negroes.”

This helmet has been at the center of a heated controversy for years. Many people feel the name “Redskins” is an offensive stereotype for millions of Native Americans. There have been many calls for a less offensive team name. One suggestion which I suspect might not get the nod: The “Washington Negroes.”

Thanks in part to the Black Lives Matter protests, media attention has recently turned to the controversial name of the NFL football franchise in our nation’s capital: The Washington Redskins.

A tiny fringe group of a few million annoyingly sensitive Americans, including 35 Native American tribes and more than 50 organizations that represent various groups of Native Americans, seem to think the term “redskin” is an offensive stereotype that stirs images of primitive, angry, bloodthirsty savages screaming menacingly and wishing to annihilate their enemy – in other words, acting like typical Washington Redskins fans. And they are demanding that billionaire team owner Daniel Snyder change the team name to something less offensive – say, the Washington Camel Jockeys.

The list of suggested alternative names grows by the day. Some names that have been proposed include: The Washington Gryffindors, the Washington Slytherins, the Washington Hufflepuffs,… well, pretty much anything you can think of from Harry Potter. Also, the Washington Redhawks (which personally I would find highly offensive if I were a Chicago Blackhawks fan), the Washington Skins (not sure how our nation’s nudists would feel about this one) or the Washington Pigskins (which I would object to if I were a pot-bellied pig).

None of these names has generated much support, so naturally, as one of the nation’s leading brand marketers, I have offered to come up with several much better ones. Tell me what you think: The Washington Lobbyists, or how about the Washington Gridlocks? Or maybe just the Washington Swamp? I thought about the Washington Senators – but then I realized I was too late. The Senators had already been bought.

Or how about simply going 180 degrees in the opposite direction of the offensive Redskinned image and calling the team the Washington Palefaces, in honor of our nation’s 234 million proud Caucasian Americans? Still not working for you? Okay, I was saving my best name for last. It’s brilliant, if I do say so myself. Are you ready? Here goes: The Washington Redskins!

My solution to the problem: Don’t change the name. Change the graphic. How could anybody possibly take offense at an image of one of our nation’s most popular agricultural staples, the noble REDSKIN potato! Brilliant, eh? Problem solved.

My solution to the problem: Don’t change the name. Change the graphic. How could anybody possibly take offense at an image of one of our nation’s most popular agricultural staples, the noble REDSKIN potato! Brilliant, eh? Problem solved.

Okay, I know what you’re thinking – doesn’t that sound vaguely close to the name the team currently goes by? But I’m not talking about some emotionally charged racial profiling of our nation’s oppressed Native American population. Not in the least! No, I’m talking about proudly honoring one of our nation’s great agricultural staples from America’s patriotic heartland: The Redskin Potato. Think about it. The team won’t have to invest millions of dollars researching a name change. All they have to do is slap a new logo on the team helmet. See my proposed new logo at right.

Admit it. Who doesn’t love a redskin potato? They go fantastic with roast beef and perhaps just a light sprinkling of cheddar cheese to bring out the flavor. This could totally bring our divided nation back together. After all, I’m fairly sure the Native Americans served redskin potatoes to the Pilgrims back at the very first Thanksgiving. Or was it maize? Doesn’t matter. My point is, this will finally solve all the long-festering problems of race relations between whites and Native Americans over the past 400 years, and all of our Native Americans’ difficulties will magically disappear. No need to thank me, my fellow Native Americans.

And just think of all the fun sports announcers will have with the new brand:

“The Redskins’ offense has stalled. With fourth and long, they’ll have to punt again. Looks like their game plan for today’s contest against the Colts was half-baked.” 

“Ooh, that hit by the Chargers’ safety flattened the Redskins quarterback. Talk about one mashed potato, eh, Brad?” 

“In the second half tonight the Redskins have SPUDDERED. By the fourth quarter, it appeared most of their players were totally fried, wouldn’t you agree, Brad?” 

“Looks like the Redskins nose tackle may have been hurt on the play. I guess that would make him a potato chip, eh, Brad?” 

“What in the hell are you talking about, Fred?” 

“I mean he’s injured – you might say, chipped. Get it? Potato chip?” 

“Shut up, Fred. Just shut the fuck up. Oh, shit. Are we still on the air?” 

The young rookie players could be called tater tots. If a player has a great game, I could see the newspaper headline the next day: “Redskin Quarterback is Hot Potato in Come-From-Behind Victory.”  See what I mean? The sound bite possibilities are endless.

If my redskin potato graphic doesn’t fly, here is my backup proposal. Who doesn’t love Hello Kitty? I know my girls sure did – back when they were five. Go, Kitties! MEOW!! What a purrfect new logo, am I right?

If my redskin potato graphic doesn’t fly, here is my backup proposal. Who doesn’t love Hello Kitty? I know my girls sure did – back when they were five. Go, Kitties! MEOW!! What a purrfect new logo, am I right?

I came up with a great new tag line to boost fan support for the team: “Support your NEW Washington Redskins. This Spud’s for You.”  I can’t imagine any Fortune 500 company possibly being upset over such a fun tag line, can you?

I’m confident that if the Redskins team owner thinks about my idea, he will quickly adopt it – and hopefully give me a modest 5% of all future ticket sales. And once and for all, this sordid Redskin naming controversy will vanish quicker than the Redskins’ chances of making the playoffs.

In the unlikely event Mr. Snyder stuns the world and refuses to adopt my solution, I even came up with a backup plan: The Washington Kittens. Check out the new helmet logo at right. I’m confident this move would bring young girls out to the stadium in droves, especially on Stuffed Animal Day. What can I say? I’m an idea machine.

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, post a COMMENT, give it a LIKE and SHARE it on Facebook. You just might win a new car. Probably not. In fact, forget I ever mentioned it.

Check out my latest humor book: YOU’RE GROUNDED FOR LIFE: Misguided Parenting Strategies That Sounded Good at the Time

© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2020

Today in Sports – Coronavirus Edition

Today in Sports – Coronavirus Edition

The Coronavirus doesn’t mean an end to sports. It just means taking a few common-sense precautions for your safety. Take this striker for Arsenal Soccer. He can continue to play with no worries – just so long as his helmet doesn’t fog up.

The Coronavirus doesn’t mean an end to sports. It just means taking a few common-sense precautions for your safety. Take this striker for Arsenal Soccer. He can continue to play with no worries – just so long as his helmet doesn’t fog up.

Welcome back to Eyewitness News. It’s time for a check on sports with our sports anchor, Tim Jones. Tim, what’s happening in your world?

Thanks, Tina. Love your purple medical mask, by the way. Matches your shoes.

Howdy, everybody. A lot to get to in today’s jam-packed look at sports. Just because, thanks to the Coronavirus, there’s no baseball, basketball, hockey, football, NASCAR, Olympics, soccer, golf, horse racing, track & field, boxing, volleyball, rugby, cycling, bowling, gymnastics, figure skating, badminton, or Australian Rules shuffleboard happening – which have all been cancelled through August 2023 – that doesn’t mean there’s no sports to report. So, let’s get started!

In tennis, 47-year-old Arnold Schwimmer defeated 53-year-old Ben Dankleworth of Westerville, OH, 6-3, 6-2, in their weekly tennis outing. Ben attributed his disappointing performance to a whopping hangover. “Being trapped at home for 24 hours at a time, I have only two choices: talk with my wife or drink. Guess what one I picked?”

I want to wish Ben the best of luck in his rematch next week – unless his wife confines him to quarters,  in which case, I might suggest Ben test his skills in his second favorite sport, beer pong.

Speaking of pong, 52-year-old Bart Mathers lost to his 25-year-old son Nathan in ping pong, 21-4, 21-3. After the match, the elder Mathers complained that his opponent displayed extremely poor sportsmanship by “never easing up on his old man.” The champ snapped back, “I could have beaten that boomer blindfolded.” In the subsequent rematch, Nathan did just that.

In an open grassy field in Bulls Gap, Tennessee, the finals of the Frisbee Toss Invitational pitted newcomer Joshua Klein against college roommate Micky Sullivan, the heavily favored reigning champion. Though held before a disappointing crowd of one – Josh’s dog Archie – it was an exhilarating dog-eat-dog clash. In a shocking upset, Josh claimed the win. However, his victory was not without controversy. In the final minute, just as Micky dove to make an incredible game-winning catch, Archie leapt from the sidelines, snagged the frisbee, and ran off with it. A formal protest has been filed. When interviewed, Joshua refused to comment, as did Archie.

Due to the Covid-19 pandemic, several sporting events were moved indoors to home venues. In Parkersburg, WV, Ralph Romano squared off against his 7-year-old daughter Lily, for the Romano Family World Championship of Jump Roping. Lily completed an impressive personal best of 32 jumps without a misstep. Her dad, on the other hand, fell way short of her mark, succumbing after only 5 rope revolutions.  Somehow, he got tangled in the rope and did a face plant into the family room coffee table. I regret to report that the lava lamp suffered a direct hit and could not be salvaged.

This elderly woman is staying indoors and enjoying her sports safely. See how she’s holding a Nintendo Wii game controller. Unfortunately she thinks it’s a TV remote, and she can’t figure out how to change from bowling to her favorite quilting show.

This elderly woman is staying indoors and enjoying her sports safely. See how she’s holding a Nintendo Wii game controller. Unfortunately she thinks it’s a TV remote, and she can’t figure out how to change from bowling to her favorite quilting show.

In fishing news, longtime angler Harley Dickinson from Moose Lake, MN went trawling with his buddy Herb. His wife Agnes cautioned them to practice safe social distancing in light of the pandemic. “We’ll be fine,” Harley insisted. “We’ll sit back-to-back in the boat.” It appeared that Harley might break the record for the largest fish ever caught on Moose Lake Lake, as he prepared to reel in a 6-foot, 200-pound sturgeon. That is, until the sturgeon tugged back and hauled Harley overboard.

Harley is recovering quietly on a cot in the garage (the sturgeon bit his leg). Agnes is not speaking to him. When asked for her thoughts about the near-tragic incident, Agnes merely muttered, “Idiot.”

Checking out hoops news, 13-year-old Wilbur Douglas, playing for Duke, beat his twin brother Orville, representing Kentucky, in the living room finals of the National Nerf Basketball Tournament. Duke had a comfortable lead of 37-21 at halftime but threw it away as Kentucky blazed ahead in the second half to triumph 59-57, thanks to a last second buzzer beater by the Wildcat’s star player, Orville.

Duke then challenged Kentucky to a slam dunk contest, which was promptly terminated by an official (dad) after Wilbur, attempting a difficult skyhook shot, swung from the chandelier and brought it crashing to the floor. In a first for a major collegiate basketball program, Duke was grounded for a week.

In a surprising announcement, the 2020 Tokyo Summer Olympics will indeed go on. Okay, technically, the Tokyo 2020 Olympic PlayStation 4 video game version. This year, 11-year-old Eamon Whittaker from Monroeville, PA competes against highly respected challengers from six countries, including the always formidable 13-year-old Victor Müller from Düsseldorf, Germany.

In Day One, Eamon was slightly in the lead in the medal count with 4 golds, 2 silvers and a bronze until his mother told him he had to, and I quote, “turn off the damn computer and come to dinner this instant or you’ll be doing dishes for a month.” He tried to go for another gold under the table using his iPhone, but was busted when he leaped up shouting, GOOOOOOOLD! The IOC president (Eamon’s mom) has banned him for future competition for testing positive for stupid. 

Despite the ban on most non-essential outdoor activities, President Trump continues to ignore safety guidelines. Experts all agree, what he’s doing is dangerous. Oh, and he should probably stop golfing, too.

Despite the ban on most non-essential outdoor activities, President Trump continues to ignore safety guidelines. Experts all agree, what he’s doing is dangerous. Oh, and he should probably stop golfing, too.

Martha Gladstone of Bozeman, MT, competing in a sport that has skyrocketed in popularity lately, defeated 17 other challengers in the Kroger Inaugural Toilet Paper Aisle Sprint. Martha reached the register tape with six bags of two-ply tissues just 1.7 seconds before her nearest rival, Thelma Vandenburg. Martha’s victory was marred slightly when she realized she’d raced right past the Purell and disinfecting wipes without thinking to grab any – a costly error. She was later disqualified for exceeding the limit of 3 bags per customer. On hearing the news, Thelma took a victory lap down the frozen foods aisle.

That’s it for sports. Join me again at 11:00 for highlights of the Miller family’s backyard horseshoe toss competition, along with an update on Lenny Davidson’s courageous quest for a personal best at the NordicTrack recumbent stationary bike challenge. You won’t want to miss it. Back to you, Tina.

Thanks, Tim. We’ll return with more news, including, When will it be safe to drink Corona beer? And more on the Governor’s new Coronavirus policy on social distancing, making it a crime to commit eye contact.

But first, this commercial message from the makers of Purell.

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.

Check out my latest humor book: YOU’RE GROUNDED FOR LIFE: Misguided Parenting Strategies That Sounded Good at the Time

© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2020

Welcome to Skiing

Welcome to Skiing

If you’ve never tried downhill skiing, what are you waiting for? There’s no better way to experience the great outdoors of winter, draw in crisp alpine air and be carried off in a stretcher with multiple fractures.

If you’ve never tried downhill skiing, what are you waiting for? There’s no better way to experience the great outdoors of winter, draw in crisp alpine air and be carried off in a stretcher with multiple fractures.

So, you’ve finally decided to take up the adrenaline-pumping sport of downhill skiing. Congratulations! I’m confident that, in no time, with a little advanced planning, you’ll be swishing between moguls, mastering hot dog aerials and being carried away on a stretcher by the ski patrol.

Folks are surprised when I mention I’m a former Olympic downhill champion – perhaps because they’ve seen me ski.  Okay, maybe I’m not a former medalist, but that’s only because I was snubbed by the US. Olympic Ski Team. As I wrote in that previous column, when I tried out, the head coach said I was better suited for lawn bowling. Hogwash. Whatever I may have lacked in speed, endurance, strength, flexibility, agility, sense of timing, self-discipline, work ethic, raw talent and peripheral vision, I more than made up for in tidiness. But I digress.

I may not be a world class downhiller anymore, but I am equipped to share some important tips to ensure that your maiden voyage into – and inevitable swift exit from – the world of alpine skiing is a little easier.

Let’s start with the minimum required equipment. You’ll need skis (ideally two of them), poles, boots, bindings, helmet, goggles, down-filled parka, waterproof pants, two layers of under-garments, neck warmer, hand warmers, gloves, glove liners, insulated socks, backpack, lip balm, over-priced wireless ear buds, and a $250,000 whole life insurance policy – just in case things take a nasty turn. Lift tickets can be pricey, so I suggest saving money by purchasing a season’s pass – a wise investment, so long as you plan to ski at least 75 times this season, and you don’t mind telling your youngest child you can no longer pay for their college education.

Now that you’ve got your ski ensemble (making sure to avoid last year’s color scheme – pink is so 2019), you’ll want to show it off. No worries – you’ll have a good 45 minutes to sashay from your car parked in Overflow Lot N to the ticket booth. Add another hour in line to purchase your lift ticket.

By now you’re sweating like a pig – but a fashionable pig – and you have to “go.” Allow another 90 minutes to find the restroom, disrobe, freshen up, re-robe, and figure out which pair of skis piled up outside the restroom are yours. Add another 30 minutes to head back to Lot N because you left your gloves in the car. Did I forget to mention – if you hope for more than 2 exhilarating runs, arrive the night before.

You’re all set to hit the mountain. Just one teensy weensy problem. So is everybody else. I suggest you return to the lodge and find a cozy spot near the fire pit. Try again around 2pm – next May.

You’re all set to hit the mountain. Just one teensy weensy problem. So is everybody else. I suggest you return to the lodge and find a cozy spot near the fire pit. Try again around 2pm – next May.

In the blink of an eye (in geologic terms), you’ll be queuing up at the chairlift – along with 900 of your newest friends whom you met in the restroom. Don’t be alarmed. In less time than it takes to watch Gone With the Wind – the extended version – you’ll be soaring in style on your maiden voyage up the mountain, enjoying the view of majestic snow-covered peaks – until you enter a fog bank and can’t see the chair in front of you.

A couple words about dismounting at the top: Good luck.

A lot of people are intimidated the first time they disembark. Fear not. Just inch forward, ensure your skis are pointed straight, with tips up, lean outward and glide off the chair. Uh oh. I see you ignored my counsel about “tips up.” Kudos! You just performed a perfect five-point yard sale / face plant. Take your time retrieving your skis and poles. The 752 people on the chairlift behind you are all more than happy to swing in the wind while you look for your missing ear buds.

Once you’re finally at the top of the mountain – which according to my watch should be around 2:45 pm – might I suggest stopping for a quick bite at the alpine restaurant? You’ll need energy to hoist yourself up after tripping over your skis while snowplowing down the slopes. And you look hangry. Find a convenient place to stow your skis, then wait 30 minutes to order your food, and notice that there are no available seats. Enjoy your $35 hot dog and soda which you scarf down standing outside the locker-room. As you exit the summit chalet, it’s the moment you’ve been waiting for: your very first run down the mountain.

Here’s a handy tip: Most mountains have color coded runs:

Green: Easiest way down the mountain. For novices. Typical names include Easy Street, Bunny Hop, Daisy Meadow, and Momma’s Boy.

Blue: Intermediate terrain for people of moderate ability. Look for names like Cruiser, Paradise, or Broadway.

One of the great joys of skiing is outdoor dining at the summit restaurant, with stunning panoramas. Oh, make no mistake, you’ll NEVER get this table. You’ll be lucky to find a stool in the kitchen. These restaurants are always packed.

One of the great joys of skiing is outdoor dining at the summit restaurant, with stunning panoramas. Oh, make no mistake, you’ll NEVER get this table. You’ll be lucky to find a stool in the kitchen. These restaurants are always packed.

Black Diamond: Advanced, high degree of difficulty. For Experts Only – and novice skiers who missed the turn-off for the Green run or idiots hoping to become a Darwin Award winner. You can tell an expert run by its ominous moniker like Widow Maker, Devil’s Crotch, Last Rites, Mine Shaft, Our Father, Organ Grinder, or my own personal favorite, Adios, Mother F***** (an actual trail at Snowmass).

Given the fact that you’re wearing your goggles upside down, how about we stick to the Green runs for a while.

Assuming you make it down the mountain in one piece – which based on your chairlift dismount is at best a 50-50 proposition – you might want to think about taking lessons. Or better yet, sell all your equipment on eBay and use the proceeds to buy a Play Station 4. They have this awesome downhill racing game called Steep, with incredible 3-D graphics. You’ll never freeze your fingers or toes, and the worst injury you might sustain is a sprained thumb. Plus, there’s no wait at the restrooms.

Ski safely, my friend.

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.

Check out my latest humor book: YOU’RE GROUNDED FOR LIFE: Misguided Parenting Strategies That Sounded Good at the Time

© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2020

My Wife’s Silly Concern That I Waste Too Much Time Watching Football

My Wife’s Silly Concern That I Waste Too Much Time Watching Football

[Author’s note: I meant to publish this article earlier, but I simply could not find the time. There were eleven college football bowl games I had to watch, plus four NFL playoff games. A man has to prioritize. – TEJ]

Like millions of other American males, I love to watch football. My wife thinks it’s a total waste of time. She’d rather watch a nature program or a documentary about Marco Polo. Who would want to learn something when you can spend quality time yelling at your TV over the officiating?

Like millions of other American males, I love to watch football. My wife thinks it’s a total waste of time. She’d rather watch a nature program or a documentary about Marco Polo. Who would want to learn something when you can spend quality time yelling at your TV over the officiating?

In recent years, there has been a national crisis brewing. No, I’m not talking about climate change or the latest measles outbreak. It’s the bane of millions of wives that their husbands are watching far too much football and totally ignoring the little lady (I’m not being chauvinistic. My wife is truly a little lady at 5’0″).

Recently, this topic became a source of strain in my own marriage. After many heated discussions, we decided to visit a marriage counselor to help my wife work through her silly problem. Below is a play-by-play transcript of how our first session went. 

Dr. Robert Taylor: Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Taylor. I understand that there are some concerns you have about your marriage. Who’d like to begin?

Michele: I will. I’m convinced that Tim cares more about football than he does about me.

Dr. Taylor: Tim, care to respond to your wife’s assertion?… Tim? … Tim, did you listen to what your wife just said?

Tim: Sorry, doc. I was just watching highlights from last weekend’s Saints – Vikings game on my phone. Could you believe that non-call in the end zone in overtime? Um, what was the question again?

Dr. Taylor: Your wife feels that you care more about football than you care about her. Care to comment?

Tim: About what?

Michele: ME! And put down your stupid phone. See, Dr. Taylor. This is what I’m talking about. Tim sits back in his recliner every Saturday and Sunday to watch his dumb football games. Tim, in a marriage, we’re supposed to be a team. Do you understand the problem our team is having?

Tim: I sure do. The Seahawks have absolutely no pass defense. They rank 25th in the league. That’s not gonna get them far in the playoffs.

Dr. Taylor: Tim, I don’t think that’s the problem your wife is talking about.

Tim: She could be right. Their pass blocking is equally suspect.

Michele: Tim, for God’s sake, can you hear yourself?!!? The problem is not the Seabirds’ pass blocking.

Tim: You make a salient point. I agree, their play calling is so predictable. But it’s not the Seabirds. It’s the Seahawks.

Michele: I don’t care if it’s the SeaWEEDS! You’re not listening to me. Every weekend, it’s like I’ve lost my husband to that stupid game. What exactly is so important about that ridiculous sport anyway?

Tim: You think football is a ridiculous sport? Might I point out that your parents love to watch curling? Now THAT’S a stupid sport. 

Michele: Don’t change the subject. I’m talking about how on weekends you spend more time watching football than you spend with me!

Dr. Taylor: Tim, is that true? Do you even talk to her during these contests?

Tim: I talk with her all the time as I’m watching. I’ll say things to her like, “Did you see that incredible catch?” and “What a horrible call by the official. Can you believe that call?” And “Can you make me a grilled cheese, honey? More cheese than last time, okay?”

Michele: You just don’t get it! All you talk about during these games is football, football, football.

Tim: That’s because I’m watching football. Would you prefer me to provide a commentary on the finer points of Badminton instead? Why would I do that during a football game?

Michele: ARGH!! How about talking to me about something – ANYTHING – other than sports? Like the last book you read.

Tim:  I could do that.

Michele: Really? That would mean a lot to me.

Dr. Taylor: And what book was that, Tim?

Tim: I just finished the pro football classic, “America’s Game”.

Michele: Unbelievable! What is so important about watching a bunch of over-sized men pound each other in pursuit of a little ball? I don’t get men’s obsession with this sport!

Tim: It’s football. Men like football.

Dr. Taylor: Tim, what I’m hearing from Michele is that, come weekends, you don’t seem to care about her interests. Am I understanding you, Michele?

Michele: Yes. Exactly. I mean, would it be so difficult for him to take a break from the flat-screen TV and go on a hike with me?

My wife says I never talk to her when I’m watching a football game on TV. That’s not true. Why, just last weekend, we discussed the possibility of her making me another plate of nachos and getting me a beverage. Her reply: Over my dead body.

My wife says I never talk to her when I’m watching a football game on TV. That’s not true. Why, just last weekend, we discussed the possibility of her making me another plate of nachos and getting me a beverage. Her reply: Over my dead body.

Tim: I hear you. The center really needs to work on his hikes on punts. Last week, he sent the ball over the punter’s head.

Michele: Dr. Taylor, see what I’m up against? He thinks any game on TV is more important than spending time with me.

Tim: Not if it’s the Dolphins – Bengals game. You can hardly call that football.

Dr. Taylor: Tim, I think you may be missing the point.

Tim: What point? Did someone score? Let me check my phone.

Dr. Taylor: No, Tim, you’re missing Michele’s concern, that you’re so engrossed in football that you forget to focus on her needs. What would happen if, just for once, you turned off the TV and missed a game?

Tim: I believe the answer is obvious. As you said, I’d miss the game.

Dr. Taylor: And so what if you did? Is that so bad? What if you went out for a walk with your wife instead?

Tim: Could I still listen to it on the radio with just one ear bud? She could listen on the other.

Dr. Taylor: Tim, are you willing to make any sort of compromise in your viewing habits in the interest of helping your marriage?

Tim: Okay, okay. I get it. How about I only watch football every other Sunday. And the other weekends, we do a fun outdoor activity together that Michele likes, say kayaking?

Michele: Well that’s a start, I guess. And I do like kayaking. Thank you, honey.

Tim: In fact, how about we start this new plan on February 3rd?

Michele: Let me guess. The Super Bowl is on the 2nd, right? 

Tim: Wow! You know when the Super Bowl is?! I think you secretly like football.

(Michele leaps from her chair but Dr. Taylor intervenes.)

Tim: Nice block, doc. You’re a natural.

Dr. Taylor: Well, I did play left guard in high school. (Whispering to Tim) Say, who do you think will win the Super Bowl? I’ve got $100 on the Ravens. Their quarterback is unstoppable –

Michele: Not you too, doctor. Unbelievable!

Dr. Taylor: Uh, um, well. I think we made some progress. Unfortunately, I have to wrap up early. I’m catching the playoff game with a few friends of mine. Oh, and one last thing. Rest assured that everything we’ve discussed today will be held in the strictest of confidence. – that is, unless your husband decides to publish the details of this session in an upcoming blog post.

Tim: I would never do that. Why would you even think such a thing, doc?

Michele: Oh no…..

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.

Check out my latest humor book: YOU’RE GROUNDED FOR LIFE: Misguided Parenting Strategies That Sounded Good at the Time

© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2020

The League of (Un)Extraordinary Gentlemen

The League of (Un)Extraordinary Gentlemen

I belong to a men’s doubles racquetball league of 13 seniors. Okay, when I say “league” that sounds a bit more serious than it really is. It’s actually more like a “club.” No, that’s not quite it either. “Herd.” Yeah, it’s more like a herd – as in cattle, because some of us play the game about as well as a spry Holstein. We meet every Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings at 8am sharp – unless it’s Christmas. Then we play at 11.

Not to toot my own horn, but out of this Baker’s Dozen of racquetballers, I routinely rank among the top 15. As I see it, the only thing separating my game from my teammates’ is my lack of speed, power, accuracy, court awareness, and peripheral vision. Oh, and ability. Yeah, I’m sort of lacking in that department, too. And yet, despite how consistently inconsistent I am, they still let me play. My theory is that I make them all look like pros by comparison.

At 63, I am one of the youngest players. The ages range from 54 to 80. Jerry is eighty years young. He’s right-handed, but due to a shoulder injury, he now plays lefty. And he still cleans my clock on the court. Now, I’ve only been doing racquetball for forty years – whereas Jerry started playing during the Garfield administration. And as a relative rookie, I’m still learning the subtleties of this sport. For example, just last week I was informed that it’s legal to play the ball off the back wall. Thanks for finally telling me, guys. That’s a game changer.

Not long ago we accepted a woman into our men’s club. Kate is extremely talented – better than most of the guys – so, I always graciously invite her to be my partner. That’s because I am a gentleman and want her to feel comfortable and accepted in our group. And it has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that with Kate as my partner, I might actually stand a chance of being on the winning side for a change.

Continue reading “The League of (Un)Extraordinary Gentlemen” »