Quick Slants - Stuff To Be Thankful For

I am personally thankful for each and every one of the following:

That my name isn’t Barry Bonds or Michael Vick.

That I’m nowhere near a retail outlet of any sort on the day after Thanksgiving.

That I’m not in charge of spinning Nick Saban’s latest verbal gaffe.

That, of all the names that will be published in George Mitchell’s report on steroids in baseball, mine won’t be one of them.

That I’m not a member of the Philadelphia Eagles and traveling to Foxboro this weekend.

That I’m not Isaiah Thomas.

That it ain’t me getting blowed up by Mo-Jo Drew on Youtube.

That I’m not Scott Boras.

That I’m not Stephon Marbury.

That I’m not the guy who signed Priest Holmes and Larry Johnson to big money contract extensions.

That I’m not the guy who gave Ahman Green a big ol’ pile of cash.

That I’m not the head coach of the worst Notre Dame football team in school history.

That I’m not Lloyd Carr.

That I’ll only get about a billion fewer questions about coaching at Michigan than Les Miles will.

That I have never driven to Wendy’s naked and drunk.

That I don’t have 9 different children by 9 different women.

That I’m not about to serve a 4 game suspension for smoking the herb.

That I’m not being reinstated after being suspended for smoking the herb.

That I’m not being reinstated to the worst team in history after being suspended for smoking the herb.

That I’m not the guy paying A-Rod $275 million over the next 10 years.

That I’m not a Bulls season ticket holder.

That I’m not the guy who had to set the largest point spread in NFL history and get his bosses to sign off on it.

That I’m not the guy who signed off on the largest point spread in NFL history.

That I don’t own the Vikings, Adrian Peterson notwithstanding.

That I don’t own the Supersonics, Kevin Durant notwithstanding.

That I’m not a Steinbrenner heir...as far as I know...

That I’m not the guy who has to revise all those Elias Baseball Abstracts when Barry Bonds does a perp walk and gets the Kennesaw Mountain Landis boot.

That I’m not Bud Selig.

That I’m not Bud Selig.

That I’m not Bud Selig. (Trust me, it bore repeating.)

That our next president will not be a woman.

That I don’t live in Los Angeles, the second-largest market in the U.S., and no pro football team to speak of, U.S.C. notwithstanding.

That I don’t have to share a locker room with Kobe Bryant.

That I haven’t won the Tour De France in the last decade.

That I haven’t won a gold medal in the Olympics in anything in the last two decades.

That I’m not the damn near unintelligible NFL analyst Emmitt Smith, an alleged Florida graduate.

That I’m not whoever was responsible for putting the NHL into WitSec with The Erasernator.

That I don’t live in a state that has twice elected actors (!!) as Republican governors.

That I don’t hang out with Pac-Man Jones, not even on accident.

That I’m not whoever was responsible for the abortion otherwise known as “D-War.”

That I’m not whoever was responsible for the crowd noise in Indianapolis.

That I’m not whoever was responsible for releasing “Grindhouse” on Easter Weekend...I mean, really...

That I’m not whoever was responsible for the Homeland Security Department (gee, thanks a bunch, Dubya...idiot).

That I’m not the Republican that will lose by 48 states in the next presidential election.

That I’m not one of the few remaining thousands ducking the hail of bullets in Detroit, recently voted the U.S.’s most dangerous city...

That I'm not one of the few remaining thousands ducking the hail of bullets in Detroit, recently voted as the U.S.'s second-most dangerous city, after, of course, Detroit.

That I'm not looking for a house, a car, or a job in Detroit.

That this isn’t a political column.

Sometimes.

That I’m not the guy who has to live with banning alcohol on team flights and sponsorships from Anheuser-Busch and Miller...not that there’s a conflict of interest or anything, I’m just sayin’...

That I’m not a New York Knicks season ticket holder.

That I’m not a New York Knicks season ticket holder.

That I’m not a New York Knicks season ticket holder. (See Selig, Bud.)

That NASCAR will never overtake MMA (Mixed Martial Arts) in the public eye, because if there’s one thing that rednecks love more than pro wrestling and flaming car wrecks, it’s genuine and bloody whupass on pay-per-view.

And finally, that for all of my carping, sports remain a refuge in a vast sea of entertainment “meh” because I remain fully convinced that at least some of the people are trying some of the time.

Don’t believe me? Just ask that helmet-shaped bruise in the middle of Shawne Merriman’s rib cage...heh heh heh...