As we sit, now, in the midst of this, the twenty second season of this National Simulation Football League, I am forced into self-conscious retrospection. Indeed, as I observe the state of this most storied of simulated games, I must ask myself: is this the football that our grandfathers and great grandfathers defeated Hitler for? When Churchill stood defiant, in defense of liberty, democracy and our way of life, was this the gridiron he was defending? When the good people of Britain waived the victory symbol, I do believe they felt secure that they had secured for their children, their grand children and their great grandchildren a better form of simulated football than we see today. I know I did
Recall, I bid you, the simulated football of the 1930s. In those heady, righteous days, the players were not mere professionals, but folk heroes. They played not for a millionaire dream, not for the lust for fame, but for the love of sport and the love of the people who need that sport. Yes, we hearken back to the days of the Great Depression and many a Briton had naught but simulated football to light up his life.
I recall the career of a fabulous young man, Burt Brown, who was the highest paid Briton in all of American simulated football. Brown was beloved by fans, and there was not a lad who didn't beg his mother to stitch Brown's name and number onto a sweater. And how much did this twentieth century Hercules receive for his heroics on the football field? A piddling sum, a pittance, merely £15 per season! And did he go to the press and make waves, decrying an allegedly greedy owner, for the supposed crime of paying a wage insufficient to feed himself for the year? No, like any good Briton, be kept a stiff upper lip and toiled diligently on. And, better yet, he proudly left his flesh and blood on the field, and, prouder yet, he hobbled on two crutches and his remaining leg right on back to the front office to pay those £15 back, when his career was unexpectedly cut short in mid-season. Brown knew he would be rewarded later, and, indeed, he was, when his surviving family accepted his nomination to the Simulated Football Hall of Fame.
Would any single player in the modern NSFL commit such beautiful sacrifice to our beloved sport? Can you, dear reader, name a single player in the past ten seasons that would give his life for simulated football? I doubt you can, and I certainly cannot! Just look at the recent extension given to Randy Vuxta! That alleged football player (recall that real football never had wide receivers, what a travesty of a position) will take home at least $6 000 000 this season, potentially over a million more! For what? To prance up the sideline like a pony and wave his arms like a fool every time a defensive player looks at him the wrong way. And when he scores, to dance about like some sort of Frenchman. In the heyday of this sport, we understood that more than a polite nod of acknowledgement was extravagance.
Yea, far you have fallen, football, and especially that altar to immodesty, the NSFL. But worry not, I am here to guide you back to the promised land.
My recommendations, nay, my demands:
1. Ban helmets. Helmets are a coward's crutch. When a man wears a helmet, he wears his lack of commitment on his person. No one should be allowed to set foot on the field that isn't prepared to die that day. Eliminate helmets and bring bravery back to the football field.
2. A maximum annual salary of $25 000 . There is no doubt that greed corrupts and greed has certainly corrupted simulated football. By capping salaries at a humble $25 000, we can ensure no player corrupted by greed can introduce that impurity again into our football.
3. A minimum contract length of 7 seasons. Football was better when the teams worried about the business and the business of players was football. By locking team control of players for seven seasons, we can ensure that players don't waste their energy worrying about their place in the league and let the general managers, who know better, put them where they belong.
4. Eliminate the forward pass. Passing is the weak man's refugee. Run blocking, breaking tackles - that is where strength lives. By forcing teams to rely on their strength, we can make this a real game again. The forward pass is an extravagance indicative of modern decadence.
5. Bring the syringe back to the sidelines. At the height of its glory, football never allowed any distress to stand in a player's way. I fondly recall the quick hits of heroin that a running back would take between series, to calm his nerves and see the field. Likewise, there was no injury that a skilled doctor and an injection of morphine could not best. With a generous application of narcotics, we can ensure fan favorites never leave the field.
6. Contract the league to four teams. What arrogance led us to expand to such size? It was the same arrogance that led us to believe it was wrong for a player to spend his entire career gracing the bench. It is the greatest honor one can be granted to spend one's entire career off the field. Bring this quiet dignity back to simulated football.
There you have it. I have illuminate the disgrace and presented the way forward. Now, it is to you, highest officials of NSFL head office. Do what must be done. Cut the sickness from our game. Remove the rot to save the limb. I pray that each of you has the might to be worthy of this greatest of tasks. Remember, the fate of simulated football is in your hands. Only if you can live up to this momentous task, can the memory of good men like Burt Brown be honored.
God Save The Queen.
Recall, I bid you, the simulated football of the 1930s. In those heady, righteous days, the players were not mere professionals, but folk heroes. They played not for a millionaire dream, not for the lust for fame, but for the love of sport and the love of the people who need that sport. Yes, we hearken back to the days of the Great Depression and many a Briton had naught but simulated football to light up his life.
I recall the career of a fabulous young man, Burt Brown, who was the highest paid Briton in all of American simulated football. Brown was beloved by fans, and there was not a lad who didn't beg his mother to stitch Brown's name and number onto a sweater. And how much did this twentieth century Hercules receive for his heroics on the football field? A piddling sum, a pittance, merely £15 per season! And did he go to the press and make waves, decrying an allegedly greedy owner, for the supposed crime of paying a wage insufficient to feed himself for the year? No, like any good Briton, be kept a stiff upper lip and toiled diligently on. And, better yet, he proudly left his flesh and blood on the field, and, prouder yet, he hobbled on two crutches and his remaining leg right on back to the front office to pay those £15 back, when his career was unexpectedly cut short in mid-season. Brown knew he would be rewarded later, and, indeed, he was, when his surviving family accepted his nomination to the Simulated Football Hall of Fame.
Would any single player in the modern NSFL commit such beautiful sacrifice to our beloved sport? Can you, dear reader, name a single player in the past ten seasons that would give his life for simulated football? I doubt you can, and I certainly cannot! Just look at the recent extension given to Randy Vuxta! That alleged football player (recall that real football never had wide receivers, what a travesty of a position) will take home at least $6 000 000 this season, potentially over a million more! For what? To prance up the sideline like a pony and wave his arms like a fool every time a defensive player looks at him the wrong way. And when he scores, to dance about like some sort of Frenchman. In the heyday of this sport, we understood that more than a polite nod of acknowledgement was extravagance.
Yea, far you have fallen, football, and especially that altar to immodesty, the NSFL. But worry not, I am here to guide you back to the promised land.
My recommendations, nay, my demands:
1. Ban helmets. Helmets are a coward's crutch. When a man wears a helmet, he wears his lack of commitment on his person. No one should be allowed to set foot on the field that isn't prepared to die that day. Eliminate helmets and bring bravery back to the football field.
2. A maximum annual salary of $25 000 . There is no doubt that greed corrupts and greed has certainly corrupted simulated football. By capping salaries at a humble $25 000, we can ensure no player corrupted by greed can introduce that impurity again into our football.
3. A minimum contract length of 7 seasons. Football was better when the teams worried about the business and the business of players was football. By locking team control of players for seven seasons, we can ensure that players don't waste their energy worrying about their place in the league and let the general managers, who know better, put them where they belong.
4. Eliminate the forward pass. Passing is the weak man's refugee. Run blocking, breaking tackles - that is where strength lives. By forcing teams to rely on their strength, we can make this a real game again. The forward pass is an extravagance indicative of modern decadence.
5. Bring the syringe back to the sidelines. At the height of its glory, football never allowed any distress to stand in a player's way. I fondly recall the quick hits of heroin that a running back would take between series, to calm his nerves and see the field. Likewise, there was no injury that a skilled doctor and an injection of morphine could not best. With a generous application of narcotics, we can ensure fan favorites never leave the field.
6. Contract the league to four teams. What arrogance led us to expand to such size? It was the same arrogance that led us to believe it was wrong for a player to spend his entire career gracing the bench. It is the greatest honor one can be granted to spend one's entire career off the field. Bring this quiet dignity back to simulated football.
There you have it. I have illuminate the disgrace and presented the way forward. Now, it is to you, highest officials of NSFL head office. Do what must be done. Cut the sickness from our game. Remove the rot to save the limb. I pray that each of you has the might to be worthy of this greatest of tasks. Remember, the fate of simulated football is in your hands. Only if you can live up to this momentous task, can the memory of good men like Burt Brown be honored.
God Save The Queen.
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