By Eustace C. Jackson.
September 28, 2015.
It’s the twilight of summer and the air is rife with the expectations of the resurgence of competitive sports. Collegiate and pro basketball programs are revving up to begin their preseason routines, pro baseball is already in full swing, college football is getting ready to open and Americans are fixated in anticipation of the start of the great American pastime, tennis! Tennis? Yes, pro football. Ok pro football, not tennis, is by far the hottest show in town, bar none. With the draft and all the wheeling and dealing of the offseason as well as the anxiety of the multitude of players both real and fantasy, yes, indeed we’re ready for some football! Oh and lets not forget that t-brad and b-chik (Br*dy and B*l*ch*k in case you didn’t get the subtle hint) are once again getting away with blue murder leaving the rest of planet earth, well, a little deflated. So again, yes we’re ready for some football!
But let’s talk some tennis for a real quick New York minute considering that the eyes of the tennis world are affixed on the city that sleeps not, for the last of pro tennis grand gigs – the US Open. Roger Federer, the world’s #2 player at the ripe mid age of 34 is still very much in the conversation. Pro tennis is in many ways a hereditary and generational sport. While that is essentially true for all sports, this is moreso for tennis because of the individual nature of the sport. Players oftentimes are acquainted in the junior ranks, go pro about the same time, get spanked mercilessly by the more experienced and wily vets. Over time, they persist and slowly but surely begin to make inroads and ultimately edge out the now aging old guard “seniors” ahead of them thus beginning a new era albeit with a few hangers on from an era past. And it goes on and on and on. Roger came on the scene and quickly broke through to the reigning era and then turned his fury on his peers. Men li ke Lleyton Hewitt, Nikolay Davydenko, David Nalbadian, Guillermo Coria, Ivan Lubicic and Patrick Rafter, among many others, capable men who in a different era could’ve had staying power – Federer pumelled into oblivion. I mean who wins 6 straight US Open titles, 5 straight Wimbledons with a few sprinklings of Australia and a serving of the French? You may not know many of these men mentioned and frankly Eustace, an avid tennis aficionado don’t quite remember the most of them (which is part of the point). Chances are you know a certain Andy Roddick, the heir to the throne Samprass and Aggasi vacated. Federer obstructed him at every turn, forcing him (and American Express) to go looking for his mojo. He didn’t find it. Nobody did. Andy retired. End of his personal era! Roger Federer cast a looming shadow over his peers!
Ok, this is not an article for Sports Illustrated. So what’s the point of all that tennis story? The GOP primaries for nominee candidate for presidential elections of 2016. Finally, the grand old people (GOP) had a formidable lineup of heavyweight contenders (literally and figuratively for a certain Obama hugging, bridge closing tough talking gurvnor of a deep blue nor’eastern state) and a deep bench. After a dismal 47-laden 2012 cycle (nominee was born in 1947, he despised the so called lecherous 47% and ended up with 47% of the votes), the GOP establishment felt genuinely poised to capture the presidency and thus consolidate their earlier conquests of both houses of congress. RNC top dawg Reince Pribus (btw no way he wasn’t bullied as a child just for that name alone!) was radiant like a proud momma, raving about his formidable lineup.
And then came Trump, the big, brazen, blustering, bellicose, braggadocious, belligerent, behemoth bully, blazing across the political landscape with brutal and yet brilliant barbarity of the infamous scorched earth blitzkriegs of yore. Benevolent he is not. Bloviated buffoon he probably isn’t. Bigoted? Depends on who you ask. Brash bombastic billionaire bambino blowhard businessman – yes. With a megaton of bravado to boot. His declaration to enter the race was somewhat comical, but his opponents weren’t laughing for long; the joke was on them! He made proclamations that in different times might have been rightfully and frightfully seen to be eccentric or even idiotic, but instead, and to the bitter befuddlement of his opponents, he garnered a following, had a meteoric rise in the polls and rode roughshod over opponents who in any other era would’ve been indomitable political gladiators. Yes, we’re talking 8 seating and former governors, 9 if you include former Virginia govern or Jim Gilmore who was but a brief vapor in this slugfest. Add to that 5 high profile senators, a world renowned neurosurgeon and a well spoken and accomplished former CEO. Certainly no pushovers.
Trump dominated this contest from the day he declared his intentions to “make America great again”! Trump had teased about running in previous cycles and cut his teeth championing the “birther” movement and firing folks on his tv show. And now Trump is in the running for real. And Trump is unstoppable! Or is he? Now back to that city that sleeps not, there’s much more to it than tennis championships. Understatement, Eustace knows. Once upon a time, there was a boss of one of the organised crime families (the Gambino family) named John Gotti. He broke the unspoken golden etiquettes of organised crime operatives and more especially the leadership: “thou must often be incognito”, “thou must often be incommunicado” and when thou does speaketh, “thou must exercise an economy of words”. In other words, “thou must keep a low public profile”. Oh no, not the dapper don! He dressed impeccably and didn’t seem to be in any way perturbed by publicity, to the chagrin of the law enforceme nt agents that hounded him day and night. They gunned for him diligently and persistently, but case after case the dapper don with his team of high prized attorneys always overcame. Nothing stuck! Nothing! This is because in America, Lady Justice isn’t blind. Neither is she really blindfolded. No, Lady Justice is hoodwinked. And she’s a whore! That’s why you can get as much justice as you can pay for! And this makes Eustace go loco! John Gotti, don of the Gambino family had become the teflon don! Why? Because nothing stuck! Nothing sticks to teflon. Things just roll off the surface.
Look closely and perhaps we can draw similarities with the Donald. Totally devoid of order and script, he says it as it is. Pardon me, he says it as he says it is. His boldness and candor often have landed him in water hot enough to broil most any mortal. But not this juggernaut. What doesn’t kill him makes him even more beloved. To his expanding band of faithfuls, he could do no wrong. Ignore him you can’t. Attack him and his “silent majority” turns boisterous, ranting their disapproval to pollsters. You basically ignite for yourself a race to the bottom. Doubt Eustace? Ask gurvnor Perry of the “oops” fame – or infamy depending on your perspective. Or Jeb, formerly known as Bush now just an exclamation mark! The expert predictions of Trump’s implosion by seasoned pundits were clearly exaggerated. “I’m not going anywhere folks” he bellowed. Nothing stuck. Boys and gals, the Donald has become the teflon Donald. He certainly looks every bit unstoppable.
History however has taught us otherwise, that is if we care to pay attention. Regarding the two stories from the over and underbelly of the great city of New York, two things happened that altered the course of the seemingly inevitable. Federer started to get beat, and sometimes badly and repeatedly. He continues to play at a very high level, but the trophies are fewer and farther between. And then there was a major chink in the Gambino armor. The previously unbreachable teflon gave. Nothing sticks to teflon, until teflon loses its teflonability! And something finally stuck. May have been something as seemingly benign as a failure to file certain incomes in a tax filing, but nevertheless, the untouchable don ended up in prison where he died the undignified death reserved for common criminals, ravaged by a debilitating bout of tongue cancer.
There are many different ways living organisms meet an untimely and unnatural demise. There’s homicide and there’s suicide. There’s genocide, insecticide, herbicide, larvicide, pesticide, fungicide, infanticide, matricide, patricide and many other something-cides that ultimately result in death. And then boys and gals, there’s Trumpicide! Webster would’ve defined Trumpicide as the means of the demise of Trump or Trumpism, but Eustace begs to differ (sorry Webby)! Not that it’s an inaccurate definition, but because Eustace thinks it’s insufficient. Trumpicide is the earth scorching, take-no-prisoners toxin that obliterates any and everything not just in it’s path but everything within reach and view and earshot and whims of its olfactory lobes. And when it’s done destroying, then it destroys some more, until there’s only one thing left to be destroyed. Hmmmm! You guessed that right.
Trumpicide eventually finds a way to self destruct. And boys and gals, there’s no lack of precedence. There’s the 4 business bankruptcies that are often brought up by opponents in the debates and on the trail. And there’s the lesser known Trumpicidal destruction of the United States Football League (USFL).
In 1983, a group of football enthusiasts banded together and started a springtime professional football league, with a view to slowly and steadily grow to a level of respectability where it could then potentially contend with the NFL for the hearts and pockets of football fans worldwide. The USFL laid out a 7-8 year plan, started modestly and made steady gains. By their third season, they had not only signed three consecutive Heisman award winners, the USFL also had under contract such football maestroes as Steve Young, Jim Kelly, Doug Flutie and the minister of defence, the late Reggie White and others who would proceed to have stellar pro football careers. There were also several renowned coaches as Steve Mariucci, Steve Spurrier (himself a former Heisman award winner) and Jim Mora among others. By all reasonable accounts, the state of the USFL was solid.
And then came he! A young real estate mogul with boyish good looks, who didn’t let any opportunity for the limelight pass him by. He bought the New Jersey franchise, burrowed into the marrow of the USFL like a cantankerous cankerworm and blew it to smithereens. How? He insisted the time was ripe to go up against the NFL and move the USFL league to the fall. He spearheaded a major antitrust litigation against the NFL and won a symbolic victory. The courts granted the USFL a grand total of one dollar in damages (though when the check finally arrived, it had accumulated one dollar and seventy six cents in interests)! However, the USFL had nowhere to turn. 187 players found a home in the NFL and the vast majority were rendered jobless. Add to that the numerous coaching, administrative and managerial and equipment and concession folks etc, and you’d get a clearer picture of the carnage. All thanks to him. His name was Trump. His name is Trump. Thirty odd years later, waistline i s bigger, and so is the ego, but Trump remains Trump. Brazen as ever. So take heed grand old people, Trumpicide takes no prisoners.
But Eustace must caveat all this by noting that he (Eustace) is but a mere (angry) mortal. And he just may have gotten it wrong like many others. But if the bespoken analysis holds up, let Eustace be the first to reveal that the Mitt is watching closely and may be the one to pick up the pieces. Maybe third time is charm. St. Reagan ran thrice! But wait a minute, there’s a problem with that.
Oh, the 47%! Sob sob!
And the people said…
Asterix and Obelisk: billions of blistering barnacles!
Trump: Eustace who? He’s a 47th rate wannabe writer. I’m really really rich! i love Mexicans! They’re rapists. I love rapists. They love me. I’m rich! That i must tell you.
Gurvnor Perry: these three things i know: #1. Donald Trump #2 is not fit #3 to be president. Oops!
koboko: burp burp. How man live man also die!