The day that I have been dreading since early last January is finally here--the day during which the St. Louis Rams make their 2015 regular season debut at the Edward Jones Dome against the Seattle Seahawks. Fuck.
Fuck the 2015 season. Fuck absolutely everything about it.
Fuck Stan Kroenke. Fuck Stan Kroenke's parents for giving him the names of iconic St. Louis figures without giving him any sense of loyalty to anything but his big fat fucking bank account. Fuck Wal-Mart and fuck Wal-Mart's heirs for allowing this anthropomorphic mustache to hold the hearts and sleeves of metropolitan St. Louis in his probably tiny hands. Fuck Quin Snyder for succumbing to Walton family influence and regularly starting Josh Kroenke, who was barely qualified to be Mizzou basketball's mascot, on basketball teams that were one actual shooting guard away from making actual noise in the tournament. Fuck the Utah Jazz for not yet figuring out what a toady dipshit Quin Snyder is yet. Fuck Kevin Demoff. Fuck whoever failed to teach Kevin Demoff even the slightest sense of community as a child, whoever allowed an adult man to become such an incontrovertible kiss-ass that he would be perfectly willing to travel across the country and vouch for countless of his coworkers to lose their jobs, because it's not like Stan Kroenke has a propensity to spend money so large that he would pay for stadium vendors, security, et cetera to relocate. Fuck any company in St. Louis that gives Kevin Demoff anything better than an entry-level job once he's canned by the Rams.
Fuck the homer local football media that spent the last five seasons before this one ridiculing St. Louis fans who worried about the future of football in their town as a paranoid, fringe minority. Fuck the homer local football media who then seamlessly transitioned into trying to convince a predominantly working-class fan base that they are obliged to give money to an owner that we all know damn well has zero interest under any circumstances of spending that money on keeping the Rams in St. Louis instead of, I don't know, mustache combs I guess.
Fuck Jeff Fisher, who has made the last (presumably final) four seasons of St. Louis Rams an unwatchable mess. Fuck Steve Spagnuolo for being such a disaster in 2011 that the Fisher era looked good enough that it wasn't worth immediately canning him. Fuck a team having such gall, before a season in which the team desperately needs to get off to a fast start, to draft a running back that all reasonable people knew would miss the first month of the 2015 season. Fuck Janoris Jenkins; if the Rams are indeed moving to Los Angeles, I hope they fucking trade him to Buffalo. Fuck that in a season where on paper I should be optimistic--a new quarterback, a healthy Brian Quick, no Brian Schottenheimer--I find myself writing this.
Fuck anybody who tries to reassure me "At least you have the Cardinals." Fuck Cardinals fans who try to tell me this, especially. Fuck the Cardinals for giving a generation of spoiled St. Louis assholes an unrealistic sense of how good their sports teams should be. Fuck my dad for instilling in me a sense of community, which has kept me tethering to this awful, clusterfuck of a franchise that doesn't even want to be here. Fuck the people who don't have this sense of community and get to feel happy every fall because Their Packers, Their Cowboys, or Their Steelers are in playoff contention again.
Fuck that I still care. Fuck that I haven't found something else in my life, anything else, into which to funnel the passion I have for the Rams. Fuck people with wives and kids and shit that enables them to pay just a little bit less attention to their football team. Fuck that once noon rolls around, I'll be yelling and screaming and laughing and crying and probably watching the Rams get absolutely demolished by a team which, unlike them, actually bothers to prepare during the first month of the season. Fuck the 2015 NFL season and that I'll have a harder time getting through these 16 games than I had getting through the 162 games of mediocre Cardinals seasons or the 82 games of outright bad Blues seasons.
Fuck.
