It’s really time for a vacation for the Grouch

Editor’s Note: This is Couch Slouch’s final column before taking vacation and, frankly, he needs the break. Man, he’s in a foul mood.

Why do I sleep in? It stinks out there. I close the windows, I crank up the A.C. – and the stench still creeps through the cracks. Fans are obnoxious, talk show hosts are shrill and, worst of all, the Internet oozes hate, lies and videotape.

And I’m not just talking about Sports Nation.

It’s always been bad, but it’s never been worse.

(Yeah, I’m grumpy today. I made the mistake of opening the Venetian blinds and what I saw outside didn’t faintly resemble Venice. It was more like Sodom and Gomorrah, with a turnstile.)

They used to throw batteries at Dave Parker, now they throw syringes at Barry Bonds. Or, to the other extreme the other day in San Francisco, Giants fans threw bottles and other debris onto the field after Bonds was ejected.

Under what circumstances, in or out of a sports arena, is it right to throw anything at anybody? Under what circumstances, in or out of a sports arena, is it right to shout out obscenities and slurs? Under what circumstances, in or out of a sports arena, is it right to be uncivil, indecent and impudent?

I used to go to the ballpark to relax. How do you kick back and enjoy yourself when spectators are asses to each other and to players? On my last visit to a Giants-Dodgers game in Los Angeles, fans – some of them half-drunk – spent much of the evening directing a boorish two-word chant at Bonds.

(By the way, I have no problem with being half-drunk, I just think you should do it in the privacy of your own hovel while watching Home & Garden TV.)

We keep turning up the volume on the sound and the fury, all signifying nothing. I can take, say, that crazy financial guy on CNBC – accompanied by a perky pinot grigio, his over-the-top shtick doesn’t sound half-bad – but sportswriters shouting at each other?

And every time I get stuck in a traffic jam, I hear some version of “Mike and The Mad Dog” on my car radio. It’s always two guys who know everything, dismiss coaches and callers alike and deliver each pronouncement like they’re coming down from Mount Sinai with God’s playbook.

Boy, it’s loud and angry out there.

Of course there are Internet URLs with hazing highlights. Of course there are fire(fillintheblank).com Web sites. Of course there is Terrell Owens writing his second autobiography in three years.

(As you may recall, T.O. claimed he didn’t read his first autobiography before it was published and now claims he was misquoted in his second autobiography. For his third autobiography, might I suggest a coloring book?)

I’ve always blamed ESPN and still blame ESPN, but ESPN is not a cause, it’s a symptom. ESPN reflects a culture in which sports is propped up to ridiculous heights, where we deify 16-year-old basketball players and disregard 16-year-old math-club members.

Then, if me or my posse – note: I have no posse – complain about any of this, some 25- or 35-year-old punk from Boston tells us we’re just old sportswriters who don’t love sports anymore before he goes to sleep with his Carl Yastrzemski-autographed baseball jersey hanging on the wall over his bed.

Alas, I’m not really that old and I’m not really a sportswriter. I’m just a middle-aged multiple divorcee looking for safe harbor among sporting strangers.

It’s just a game, for crying out loud.

I had to sit and watch from afar last year as my fallen hometown, Washington, D.C., huffed and puffed until it scared up enough public money to build a baseball stadium. Because – damn the schools and the roads and the quality of everyday life – if you don’t have an MLB team, you might as well close up shop as a big-time, multi-faceted metropolitan community.

I sure hope those Nationals can find a middle reliever.

In the meantime, I’ve learned my lesson – I don’t set an alarm anymore.

Ask The Slouch

Q. With the positive way you promote bowling in your columns, I cannot believe the International Bowling Museum and Hall of Fame has not made you its first celebrity inductee. Could it be that your lazy, gambling, beer-drinking, sports-junkie, blue-collar, can’t-hold-onto-a-wife image is something that they don’t want people to start connecting to the sport? (Kevin Pelch; Raleigh, N.C.)

A. I’m not sure whether this fella’s trying to get on my good side or my bad side.

Q. If Floyd Landis is no longer the Tour de France champion, who is? (Thomas Mill Jr.; Pittsburgh)

A. At this point, I’d just put Ben Johnson on a unicycle and call it a day.

Q. Considering Bruce Sutter just made the Baseball Hall of Fame having never started a game, what are the odds of you making the Marriage Hall of Fame having never finished one? (Jim Cyrulik; Vermilion, Ohio)

A. Pay the man, Shirley.