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Not a good Summer to be a sports fan. Gambling roundball ref, Pac-Man fucking Jones, Barry Bonds empty "accomplishment," wrestler kills his whole family. If you're the sort of person who uses sports spectatorship as an escape from the daily cacophony - good luck with that. Now, finally, topping out the Summer of sports mayhem and bullshit, we have Atlanta Falcons quarterback Mike Vick, being taken down for fighting dogs, killing dogs, and various other conspiracy/gambling nastiness affiliated with such activities. I hate this. I hate this because Vick was going to be a fun player to watch. I hate this because it fuels the racist "ghetto player" argument. Mostly, I just hate this. And Vick. And since I didn't have anything more intelligent than that to say on the subject, I invited people here who would. Here are Cayce and Matt from Atlanta on Michael Vick:
Cayce: "I will give my own personal view of the Vick debacle.
I'm not a big football fan, but I've been around the sport my entire life and don't have an anti-football agenda. I'm perfectly happy for my husband (as I was with my family) to sit around on a Sunday afternoon or a Monday night and soak up the game.
That said, I look at the Vick thing on a micro-local level. Our neighbors are raising their three grandchildren. We like the kids a lot and have spent a good bit of time with them. The youngest, Jeremiah, is the troubled one. At 9, he's an emotional maelstrom; a kid who can change the mood of a feel good day without warning, in a moment. All the other kids (there are two boys on the other side of us), walk on eggshells around him. But even with that, it's not at all uncommon to hear a day of playing on the trampoline in one neighbor's yard end with Jeremiah making a big stink and stomping off. He's a tiny little guy, but can fill our collective back yards with his ranting.
When we first moved in, Jeremiah spent many of his days wearing a Michael Vick jersey and throwing the football with Colin, his cousin. He talked about his future as a quarterback for the Falcons. Everyone reminded him that if he didn't start eating sometime soon, there would be no sports in his future, unless of course he wanted to be a jockey. Michael Vick was his idol. I should point out that Jeremiah is black and his attachment to Vick as a role model was very strong.
Last week, when I was out of town, Matt was in the backyard with the kids, swimming. They all come over every Monday night, while it's warm, to swim. The kids on the other side have a black lab puppy, Guinness, who comes with them to play with our dog Puck. Guinness is a much bigger dog than Puck and Puck sometimes tires of him. When this happens, he will growl at Guinness to back off. Last week, when Puck growled at Guinness, Jeremiah jumped out of the pool excitedly and yelled, "Dog Fight!"
Matt explained to Jeremiah why dog fights weren't cool, but I'm guessing it didn't sink in. If Michael Vick did it, it must be okay."
and Matt:
Fucking Michael Vick…
If you grew up in Atlanta, watching Steve Bartkowski and an unfortunate procession of quarterbacks named Chris lead the dirty-birds to a series of sub-.500 seasons, it was hard not to get a little giddy when the Falcons drafted Michael Vick. Finally, we didn’t waste a number one draft pick. Finally, a quarterback to replace Brett Favre (who was traded away by the inestimable coach Jerry Glanville with the prophetic words that Favre would “never play a down in the NFL.”) Our time in the wilderness was over. Anyone who watched the previous year’s NCAA championship football championship just knew that Vick could be football’s Michael Jordan. So what if he didn’t actually win that game against Miami...
Things looked promising enough. He beat Favre at Lambeau in December. At Lambeau! No one had ever done that before. He came within inches of a Super Bowl in his first full year as a starter, close enough to taste next season. I actually watched the preseason games the next year. I remember the familiar sinking sensation when Ray Lewis broke Vick’s leg and the familiar thought: next year. The following year, next year. The year after that, next year.
The whispers that had followed Vick his whole career grew louder: one trick pony, can’t win the big game, no discipline, shitty mechanics, stupid decision maker, can’t read NFL defenses, gonna blow out his knee any day now.
People like me took it upon themselves to defend him: best athlete in football, if you could run like him you wouldn’t throw either, if you had his offensive line you’d take off downfield too, it isn’t his fault the Falcons defense sucks, next year is the year and so on.
This was an easy line of defense to take. In their entire history, the Falcons never put together back-to-back winning seasons, with or without Vick. He was so much fun to watch and didn’t seem to be quite the egocentric prick that so many star athletes can be. But then there started to be what the press refers to as “character issues” and what Squidbag contributors might call:
- Giving a woman genital herpes, then trying to hide it with an alias (Ron Mexico, of all names),
- Attempting to smuggle marijuana inside a fake water bottle through airport security (Note to Mike: it is dumb fuckers like you that give all the other dopers a bad name),
- Giving a full-on double-bird salute to the paying fans at the Georgia Dome,
- Watching his “crew” steal a Rolex at the airport (what is it with Mike & airports?)
- It seems like I’m missing something here…
So now Vick is going to cop a plea to felony dogfighting after his “crew” turned state’s evidence on him faster than you can say “5 years in federal ass-ramming prison and a half-million dollar fine.” This is the same “crew” he has sworn loyalty to since they were all roughnecks in Virginia Beach, and he was the fastest roughneck of them all. Unless he O.J.s out of this he is probably going to get a 52 week cement vacation. And his fine is going to look paltry next to the $20 million that Home Depot founder and Falcons owner Arthur Blank is going to wring out of his signing bonuses, which he now owes back. And oh yeah, his contract? The richest in the history of the NFL? It’s void. Even Nike kicked him to the curb. If Nike thinks you are a publicity liability, then you are; they would know.
So in fine Squidbag fashion I say “Fuck You, Michael Vick.” You had it all and you blew it. I hope you never play another down in the NFL. And if somehow you make it back, and actually start a game, you better not lose, or else some angry fan may take you to a purpose built shack on the dark edges of Flowery Branch and remind you what happens to dogs who can’t fight anymore."
Thank you guys, for being far more thoughtful on the issue than Vick deserves. Gentle (and otherwise) readers, be advised that the Vick chew toy pictured above can be purchased for your dog here.