Considering the discussions recently as to the names of several professional football teams, as a representative of the Homo Sapiens group of humans titled “dumb blondes” I feel obligated to represent my species with the following thoughts. I have the perfect solution to the conundrum of naming football teams without offending anyone.
First of all, I couldn’t figure out why anyone would be offended by the name Washington Redskins. I thought the “redskins” referred to a type of potato. I often buy redskins at the grocery store and was surprised it referred to Native Americans. So, thinking along that line, if they named teams after food groups, wouldn’t that solve the problem? One conference could be the Fruits and the other could be the Vegetables. In keeping with Michelle Obama’s efforts to make us a healthy nation, doesn’t that make sense?
Think for a moment. There could be the Tennessee Tomatoes, and their motto could be “We’ll make ketchup out of you!” They could get John Kerry and his wife to sponsor the team, and the players could wear solid red uniforms. That way, blood wouldn’t show on their shirts.
For another team name, isn’t there a certain ring to the New England Zucchinis? Their cheerleaders could lead the fans in singing, “She wore an itsy bitsy teeny weeny, yellow polka dot zucchini.” The only drawback I can see is that most of the fans wouldn’t be able to spell zucchini. (I have to depend on spell check.)
The possibilities are endless. Cleveland could become the Cleveland Kumquats, and New Orleans could be the New Orleans Oranges.
Can’t you just hear the newscasters? “The Kumquats are on the 5-yard line of New Orleans and are about to make juice out of them! Oh, New Orleans just intercepted and peeled down the field!” A person could pun all over the place.
Baltimore could easily become the Baltimore Bananas, complete with yellow uniforms. Before each game, the team could gather in a bunch and sing, “Yes, we have no Bananas, We have no bananas today.”
And wouldn’t Peyton Manning love to be the quarterback for the Denver Onions? Fans around the stadium could wave signs saying, “We’ll make you cry!” And as Peyton threw another touchdown, the announcers could proclaim, “Well, put that on your Coney Island hot dog and eat it!”
Minnesota would be perfect named the Minnesota Mulberries, complete with purple uniforms, and they could develop game plays based on making the other teams go around their mulberry bush defense. There is nothing as colorful as squashed mulberries, so thoughts about jam and jelly could be used as the coach’s inspiration for developing game strategy.
The writers who report on the sports’ page would have a field day. Consider these stories: “As the Philadelphia Potatoes mashed down the field, they made hash browns out of the Chicago Carrots. To add to the stew, quarterback John Elway put some gravy on his career by pasting the defense. Remember, folks, that Elway decided to return to football when they changed the team names. He said he wanted to experience being a part of this renaissance. Although he really had hoped to be quarterback for the Atlanta Apples, he had to settle to become a Potato. At that time, he said, ‘I really miss being on the menu, and I look good in white, the color of the Philadelphia Potatoes uniform, so I guess I’ll have to settle for scalloping.’ The fans went wild when Elway first appeared and threw carrot peelers onto the field, chanting, ‘Cream those Carrots! Cream those Carrots!’ When he threw his first completed pass, the chant changed to, “One potato, two potato, three potato, four. Five potato, six potato, seven potato more. Hey, John Elway, throw the ball and score!’”
A writer would be paid according to how many puns he could squeeze into each paragraph, and how many groans he could elicit from his readers.
Now doesn’t that all make sense? If produce providers didn’t like that idea and felt insulted, maybe we could use desserts instead of fruits and vegetables. The San Francisco Soufflé could be matched against the Tampa Bay Tarts; however the later name might offend a certain sub species of females.
Well, this is why I continue to color my hair blonde. There is a certain privilege that comes with being the butt of dumb blonde jokes. You can get away with a lot of remarks which are all caused by one’s hair color. It has nothing to do with my I.Q., it is caused by my hairdresser’s proclivity toward avoiding purple hair. Excuse me now; I have to go root for Andrew Luck and the Indianapolis Rutabagas.