Can the Left, Right, and Twitter please be cool about John Madden's death?
So far as I know, Madden didn’t ever make a woman feel uncomfortable by breathing near her or explaining a concept she wasn’t grasping, switch parties and get really vocal about his support of a DNC presidential candidate, say something racially insensitive about people with a permanent suntan, wear blackface and hypocritically call conservatives racist, possibly wear blackface and attempt to mitigate it by saying he couldn’t remember if he was the one in blackface or the KKK hood (because that makes it better), voice his opinion on abortion, be a pundit shill for Donald Trump, have a secret family two towns over, get all shouty with opinions on COVID, or use his piles of money to make something totally stupid as those with nary a few nickels to rub together sit in the dirt and eat dirt for their daily supplement of fiber. He did put his name to an annual video game series that was actually well-regarded for its consistent quality of gameplay and not just a paycheck for using his likeness.
I know that once a public figure says something you disagree with or sneezes too loudly, they become just that one thing and can never redeem themselves and be a full person in your eyes ever again, but come on people. It’s John Friggin’ Madden! Yes, he’s a straight, white male. That firmly cements you in canceled territory before you’ve ever had the notion of speaking your mind, but I can’t imagine he was the one telling the NFL science wing back in the day that black dudes had substandard intelligence and cognitive skills, so let his body get cold and maybe a little rotted in the grave before we rake him through the coals for whatever perceived faux pas or social transgression some loser with a vendetta is bound to dredge up in the name of speaking his truth.
Is this the kind of guy it takes for Twitter and despicable people on both ends of the political spectrum to just shut up about for a three-count? Can we go through one celebrity’s death without a postmortem canceling? Bland, inoffensive, grandfatherly, and pretty good at one’s job (but not too good because some haters love to hate those folks who are excellent at their job year-to-year) is what it’s going to take?
I imagine somewhere some health nut is just seething over an obese person being so beloved when he should have changed his dietary and exercise habits and just been thin and attractive. Stuff a cork in it, Bro. Fat-shaming is a thing. That’s a thing I’m not happy about (and I’m overweight), but it is a thing. Work out your frustrations and feelings on it during leg day.
I imagine somewhere an oral health advocate is tempted to fire off a screed about front teeth gaps. You do that and I’ll point out that Michael Strahan also has a gap and resulting lisp. From there, it’s just a hop, skip, and jump to me calling you racist. So chill, dude! Tell it to the walls of your apartment. And then make some concrete moves to get out of your apartment, my man. You’re 37. Get it together. That’s almost as bad as mom’s basement.
Madden cried a river, built a bridge, and got over it as concerns the Immaculate Reception. You can too, crazy Raiders fan who wears foam shoulder spikes and silver paint on gameday and actually walks outside dressed like that.
I imagine somewhere Cris Collinsworth is ranting about how people believe he’ll never stack up to Madden in the sidekick-to-Al Michaels game, and he’s probably doing it in a nasally and off-putting voice, thinking about how if he had Jack Nicholson, Pat O’Brien, and Christian Slater over for brunch they might start a fire. Sorry, that last part is one of the weird machinations of my twisted mind. I’ve somewhat of a nasally voice, which is probably why I do so much essay writing and attentive listening while on a date. Ladies, if you’re interested, I can also type 90wpm. I’m also in that sweet spot of emotionally damaged enough to be a project, but not emotionally damaged enough to lie down behind your car during a fight as you’re trying to back out the driveway and are super late for work. Slow down, there’s only one of me.
I imagine Brett Favre shedding a couple tears, knowing that 75% of the love aimed at him has left this world. The Greeks had the five loves: parental, brotherly, self-sacrificial, love of self, and erotic. I’d say Madden’s love for Brett-of-the-confusingly-pronounced-last-name was a healthy mix of four out of five and reasonably frustrated he couldn’t throw self-love into the mix when it came to his infatuation for that gun-slinging touchdown and interception machine.
Can I be done now? I’d say this had gone off the rails at some point but I think that’s where it started. RIP, John. Save a turducken leg in heaven for me.
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Image taken from:
https://wtop.com/nfl/2021/12/john-madden-hall-of-fame-coach-and-broadcaster-dies-at-85/
