One of the evening radio hosts on ESPN said something the other night that may in fact be the funniest thing I've heard in ages. (I can't tell you which host, as they all sound alike to me. The lone exception is Colin Cowherd, whose instantly identifiable adenoidal self-righteousness can best be described as sounding like Stan Ridgway's bratty, annoying younger brother. But I digress).
And what he said, in the middle of a discussion of Lakers coach Mike D'Antoni refusing to pull center Dwight Howard from obvious hacking situations, was a howl of disbelief, that D'Antoni would theoretically put Howard's ego/state of mind/need to be on the court to actually score ahead of the team! Never mind that having a functional All-Star center is about the best thing for the team imaginable. "When," the host huffed, "did one player become more important than the team?"
Right about then is when I nearly swerved into oncoming traffic because I was laughing too hard to drive. Because the answer to that shocked, horrified question is: always. When did the needs of the superstar outweigh the mythological notion of team? Ask Michael Jordan. Or coach-killers like Kobe...and Magic. Ask Barry Bonds about the throne in the locker room, or Roger Clemens about picking his start date and not having to go on road trips. Ask Brett Favre about, well, anything. Or Babe Ruth about "too many hot dogs" or Mickey Mantle about the press covering up his horndogging or, well, you get the idea. It's always been that way, and for a radio jock to ask us to believe he is shocked - SHOCKED - at gambling going on in this establishment is like asking us to be shocked that the crew from Finding Bigfoot did not, in fact, find Bigfoot in any given episode.
Outrage grabs ears. Fake outrage needs to at least have the semblance of believability to it, or it just sounds ludicrous. Guess which this is.