Sports III

Ernest Hemingway says the first draft of anything is shit and Hunter S Thompson would wait until the last minute of a deadline to write of some manic hyperbole so we will settle on Charles Bukowski’s advice of “just fucking write” more or less at least I think that was him but he also gives advice to young men to not write poetry—not that the young men of generation z could write poetry anyways—god knows I can’t. Anyways—we are off, flashing, lights are flashing, the neon is blinding, no this is not union square, this is not broadway—this is the mess of a mind that has been catered to by the algorithm—yes your mind’s algorithm coupled with the internet brought you to this writing. Interesting. But now you are reading the Vanilla sky of my mind talking to your mind and you know who I am—Jude McCoy—but I don’t know who you are. I have no idea who reads my writing, every so often a random chap will tell me he loves my writing and I take it congenially because I am usually writing for either God, or some random crush I have.

But looks like it is just you again. Well, you will do. Just don’t judge me too much on sentence structure, vocabulary, rhythm, cadence, grammar, punctuation, diction or any other damned thing and we should get along just fine. Now let me just seal up this third wall with the last bit of putty and we will be back to our cherished sled ride across the Bering strait of our shared consciousness of the writer and the reader. Ready..1..2..3—————

I have a connection with Tom Osbourne where they didn’t treat me right when I worked at UNO so now I am paid an annual salary of $100,000 to go to every single Nebraska Cornhusker game for every sport and just kind of hangout, write about things every so often and post a couple things on social media a month. So here we are at the end of the football and volleyball season and wrestling is somewhere dominating their matches in some dark shadow of John Cook Arena. I won’t even mention women’s soccer because we know more about the mens soccer program at UNL than we do the women’s. 

I am the worst person to write about sports. Jude does not know ball. I don’t even care about it. I don’t gamble on it. I don’t know any of the players personally. Just good old Tom Osbourne paying me $100,000 to lay around and eat runza’s and Valentino’s pizzas. What a guy.