Let me start this off by stating for the record that I hate the "Air Bud" series of movies. I really, really hate them.
See what this is here? Michael is discussing Air Bud so that he'll get more google hits from a younger demographic. It's a brilliant strategy to widen his audience. I wonder when he'll teach the youngsters out there about donkey punching.
Bah, fuck you. That's not what I'm doing here.
Just the other day I was about the leave the house and I happened to notice that the Air Bud movie about the dog playing baseball was on. I should also clarify myself a little bit by saying that I've never watched an entire Air Bud movie, not once.
So anyway, I watched a few minutes of it and it seemed harmless enough. Dog plays baseball, plays first base, wins the World Series. I can suspend my disbelief enough to accept the fact that some coach or general manager out there said, "Well, out the vast pool of talent from which I can draw players for my team, clearly, this golden retriever outperforms all of them. I need him for my team!" Okay, maybe the coach or general manager just took a bad batch of LSD and thinks that a fucking dog can understand the game of baseball enough to play first base. Maybe the coach or G.M. was smoking some dope and forgot the physical impossibility of a dog being able to successfully throw a baseball to a target more than a foot or two away. I can suspend my disbelief enough for all of that.
So what's the big fucking deal, hot shot? Why can't you just let the fucking dog play baseball?
I had to think about it for a while. Quite a while actually. Something wasn't sitting right with me. After an hour or so of careful consideration I figured out what was bothering me about the notion of a dog playing baseball for a little league team.
Imagine, if you will, you're a parent of a youngster who has designs on being the next Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb, or Alex Rodriguez. Like all kids who want to play sports he has to try out for the team. He looks so adorable putting on his little baseball outfit and you see that glint of determination and hope in his eyes as he steps out onto the field for the first time.
You hear it. The coach pulls your son aside to inform him that he didn't make the cut. He's off the team. Look at your son, tears in his eyes, a heavy head, that slow walk of defeat that just about every athlete has had to go through at least once in his/her life. And it breaks your heart to see it.
Why did he get cut? Because a fucking dog tried out for the team? What in the living fuck? You're cutting my son, who can throw a ball more than 4 feet and probably hit a ball farther than some stupid simp dog clutching the bat in his big, stupid mouth. My son, cut, while some dog gets drool all over the baseball and keeps pausing to lick his own balls between batters? Fuck you very much. Wait right here, I'm going home to get my machete, coach. Then we'll see who gets cut next.
You see? Sure, the notion of a dog playing a team game sounds cute and all, but nobody who watches it ever stops to think about the poor kid who just had his dreams of athletic glory shattered at an all-too-young age for the sake of cuteness. That stupid fucking mutt.
Okay, so the dog plays so well, he goes on to a lucrative career in the big leagues and he even helps his team win the World fucking Series. Big fucking deal. Think of the children.
Won't somebody, please, think of the children?
Fucking dogs anyway.