Typing Out Loud: Oy Vey

The real champions

I try to keep my commentary on this blog PG, but...

Jesus fucking Christ.

Okay. So USA Women's Hockey won the gold medal at the Olympic Games last week. They have been dominant in the sport since it was introduced to the Games in 1998. This includes winning three gold medals in that short span of time. 

Well, the men won too, for the first time in 46 years, since the Miracle on Ice back in 1980. It was a crazy, intense win over Canada, an NHL All-Star team vs. an All-Star team that went into overtime with one guy playing with a broken tooth, blood everywhere.

It was awesome. For a while, anyway. 

Locker room celebration with the head of the FBI chugging beers like a frat bro, and the president calls to congratulate them, and invites them to the White House for a celebration. 

Cheers. 

Then he cracks a joke that he guesses he hasta invite the girls too, or else he'd get impeached. 

One player joyfully shouts, "Absolutely!" while another chimes in, "Two for two!"

The rest groan and laugh at having to share space with the girls. 

Oh, fuck you. Fuck all of you - except those two that spoke up but were drowned out. 

I've heard this my whole life. I wasn't surprised, just disappointed. Again. 

Backlash was swift, but the boys in the clubhouse didn't want to budge on it. 

This is the "make me a sandwich" crowd, defending it as "just" locker room talk. 

This is the pick-me apologists giving the benefit of the doubt to men. Again. 

This is the bros arguing that people don't care about women's sports, and that more people watched the marquee gold medal men's hockey game.

This is dismissing female athletes, as "Men would kick the girls' asses head to head!"

This is the dudes in MAGA hats wondering why the liberals are making it political. 

This is the boys being boys, of course, leading a "USA!" chant while wearing their medals at a freaking strip club.

Then there's the player who attempts to dismiss this uproar as "almost nothing," a quote that, in and of itself, is telling. He knows, deep down, it's something.