Stupid Soccer

This is one of the many reasons I hate soccer.

I was willing to get excited about soccer in Houston.  I was willing to give it a go.  Hell, if I can run a marathon and hate every step of training I can at least go to a soccer game.

But NOOOOOO!!  I don’t get my Houston 1836 because apparently Texas History doesn’t belong to Texans anymore.  Stupid tree hugging, cheeto munching, pot smoking, Frisbee golf playing, pant wetting, belly achers.  “Oh, I’m offended”.  Sucks to be you.

 

Maybe I’ll go get some gear—hat, shirt, pants, whatever—and wear them to the home opener anyway proudly displaying what my soccer team’s name SHOULD be if the front office wasn’t a bunch of spineless worms.

 

Or maybe I just won’t give a crap. 

 

Yea, that sounds like a better plan.  I just won’t give a crap.

 

Take that, Houston Yet To Be Named Soccer Team.  Plumbing and the US System of Measurement won me back to real sports.  No more soccer, crapping in holes, or meters for me.  The rest of the world can have all that stuff.  I’ll take baseball (and football), flushing toilets, and feet.

 

And most of both of the Olympics, but that’s a special circumstance.