Couch Slouch: Boston’s run of success in sports unacceptable

I speak for all of America – except for the commonwealth of Massachusetts and certain pockets of New Hampshire and Portland, Maine – in stating that absolutely no one wants the Boston Bruins to win the Stanley Cup.

In fact, absolutely no one wants any professional team from New England to win another title until the 22nd century, at the earliest.

This recent New England run-good is unspeakable and unacceptable.

Considering the fact that each of our major professional sports leagues has 30 teams or so – we are leaving Major League Soccer out of this equation because we can – any franchise, statistically speaking, should only win a championship once every 30 years or so.

Thus, in an average lifetime, sports fans should see their favorite team win two or three titles.

New England is shattering this age-old, time-honored algorithm.

Note: In a similar vein, in an average lifetime a Kardashian should date only one professional athlete. The Kardashian clan has Bob Beamon-ed past this expectation.

Here is the deflating 21st-century scorecard of Boston’s embarrassing sports riches:

New England Patriots: From 1960 to 2000 – the franchise’s first 41 years – the Pats had no AFL or NFL titles. Since 2001, they have six Super Bowl titles among their nine Super Bowl appearances. Plus Robert Kraft is probably going to get off scot-free.

Boston Red Sox: From 1919 to 2003, the Red Sox famously had zero World Series titles. Since 2004, they have won it all four times.

Boston Bruins: From 1973 to 2010, the Bruins had no Stanley Cup titles. They won the Stanley Cup in 2011.

Boston Celtics: The Celtics have the most titles in NBA history, 17. But before winning it all in 2008, they endured a 22-year drought – perhaps payback for their oppressive 11-titles-in-13-seasons run in the 1950s and ’60s. Thankfully, I was too young at the time to be permanently and emotionally scarred.

(Column Intermission: For the 77th time, how can the Stanley Cup Finals stretch into June? It’s hockey, ice hockey. With training camp under way in September, this means only July and August are NHL-free. The only sports that should be year-round are bowling, poker and skee-ball.)

All this success is made worse because it rewards the insufferable Boston fans, possessed of a self-satisfied air of superiority, almost an entitlement to endless titles.

If I had to describe the worst of the Boston fan base in 25 words or less, I guess I’d say… arrogant, asinine, contemptible, crass, crude, disagreeable, distasteful, disreputable, fatuous, foolish, intolerable, loathsome, loud, obstinate, obnoxious, off-putting, petulant, puerile, spoiled, thickheaded, uncouth, vacuous, vile and whiny.

It is with shame that I now relate how close I came to walking among them:

As a 17-year-old, Boston University was one of three colleges I applied to. I gained admission there, but before making my college choice, my father sat me down and explained that, due to financial considerations, I would be attending Maryland.

I was crestfallen at the time – Maryland tuition was a lot lower than BU, plus my dad had a coupon – but it turns out he saved me from being swallowed up by the New England sports-anderthals.

Tangentially, I’d like to debunk the most overrated Bostonian of all-time, “heroic” Paul Revere. On his acclaimed midnight ride in April 1775, he never shouted “The British are coming! The British are coming!” Alas, he was actually captured and questioned by British soldiers that night and they took his horse. He had to walk to Concord.

Paul Revere, war hero? I think not. I like people that aren’t captured.

I’m sorry, where were we? Oh, that’s right – would it kill the St. Louis Blues to beat the stinkin’ Bruins and win their first Stanley Cup?

Ask The Slouch

Q. The New Yorker magazine recently noted that Norman Esaison “had been a star quarterback in the NFL and, in retirement, a respected commentator.” So, when did this once respected icon of journalism become a shill for fake news? (Mack P. Holt; Fairfax, Va.)

A. I would cancel my subscription to The New Yorker, but I don’t have one – too expensive, too many big words.

Q. In the existential horse race of life, are you more like the jockey who gets bucked off in the starting gate or the unencumbered colt who enjoys a few fleeting moments of freedom, only to be slapped with a DNF at the finish? (Mark Kulzer; Wynantskill, N.Y.)

A. Actually, I am more like the bug that smashes into a Smart car windshield.

Q. I waited all week for your one column offering in-depth analysis on why baseball attendance is dropping and all I get is “I don’t know.” I feel empty inside. (Andy Hare; Waldorf, Md.)

A. I am sending you $1.25, plus refunding the price of the newspaper that day (need copy of receipt).

Q. Joe Flacco says he’s not in Denver to mentor rookie quarterback Drew Lock. Is this considered good news for Lock? (Mike Soper; Washington, D.C.)

A. Pay the man, Shirley.

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