The Freakout

It’s already tedious enough being surrounded by people who are all hyper-enthusiastic about something I consider absolutely without merit.  Football mania is a yearly tide of thistles against which I struggle, fighting to remain breathing above the flow, fearing I’ll be pulled down into the thorny sea and smothered.

Now it’s gotten worse.

The sexual abuse scandal involving a former assistant coach, the charity he founded for at-risk children, and the school administrators who didn’t report everything they knew to the police, has spilled over.  And now the local beloved football coach has retired, possibly to avoid being thrown out of his position by the board of directors.  Last I’d heard, the police were not considering him to be involved in the semi-coverup failure to report that resulted in charges being leveled against several of his underlings, but his tenure as coach might have been threatened anyway.

To give you an idea of how significant the locals consider this to be:  last night, somewhere around five hundred students (not hyperbole, that’s an actual estimate) were rioting around the coach’s residence after news of his imminent retirement broke.   Whether they were showing support or condemnation I don’t know, but  they so disrupted traffic patterns that my bus home from work was late and the police had to redirect traffic.  It’s all people are discussing this morning.  I can’t turn on a radio or a television without hearing something about the case.

And I don’t give a tinker’s dam about any of it.

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