Poet at the edge

“Oh, you’re a moron! Call back when you grow up!”

Papers shuffle in the momentary silence.

“Hank from Syracuse, you’re on. What’s up?”

“Willie Randolph has to be fired! Start at the top!

You can’t fire the team! Fire Willie!!!”

“Nice call. Jim, can you BEGIN screening these knuckleheads?

I’m dyin’ here!”

“Ok. Who’s next? Gary wants to talk about Erin Andrews?

I only want to talk to Gary if he’s DONE her! Next!!!”

“This is Bob from Chicago. I want to talk about the…”

“What, Bob? The untimely demise of every franchise in your town?”

“No! The NBA! Celtics and Pistons. Unless you know squat!”

“Oh, we finally have a live one here now!”

And on it goes…really very little sports gets talked about

and when it does it must be late night, a holiday or by accident.

What passes for entertainment can be credited to Jerry Springer or WWE,

and when you think the bar can’t get lower, it does.

I can use my first amendment rights to diminish the conversation

but I can’t think of a reason why I should.

It’s like brandishing a loaded weapon at an arm-wrestling match,

it’s simply overstating the value of the situation.

Yet, yammer on they do as if it made good sense and worse

like it made worthwhile listening.

If you want Howard Stern, then go to pay-to-hear satellite

and leave the free terrestrial radio to the ones searching for

enlightenment and music and a ball game now and then.

Sports talk radio is built on ratings quicksand

and as soon as Hank and Gary and Bob start blogging

it will be “don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.”