Sportsball: White Cancer

One challenge of being red-pilled is noticing degeneracy everywhere while not becoming an insufferable misanthrope incapable of enjoying any of the pleasures of our wretched age. As proud and passionate people, our side of the Right is also prone to forming circular firing squads over important issues ultimately peripheral to the cause, like religion and sexuality. But just as we need to keep our sights trained on Cucks and Leftists (and at least save the purges until after assuming power) we must also not shirk regular, harsh introspection for opportunities to improve ourselves. And there is no question that the entertainment complex built up around professional and collegiate athletics—Sportsball—has become a cancer sapping the time, money, and self-respect of otherwise rational White people around the world. We need to quit it, for we do not enjoy the luxury to squander such things.

Before sports fans cut straight to the comments section as if confronted by an intervention, consider the sheer amount of time that Sportsball sucks from our dwindling reserve of years. Most of us get two days off per week at most, and too many of us devote many of those precious free hours to watching millionaire meathead minorities play with balls. Even worse than lost money and self-respect, the commitment required to keep up a Sportsball habit is devastating. How many precious weekend days that could be spent actually playing sports with friends, or at the park with the kids, are lost to the hollow pleasure of watching strangers compete for money, reviewing statistics, and adjusting fantasy squads? If you’re young, it’s a waste of youth. If you’re old, it’s cheating on your family. There is no excuse for a man to be able to share obscure details about insignificant, faraway teams unless he is a professional gambler or scout.

Put aside questions of Sportsball’s opportunity costs, however, and consider your money for a moment. The international sports complex is a multi-billion dollar metastasizing monstrosity that makes (((owners))) and increasingly non-White players exorbitantly wealthy at the expense of average Joes forking over bucks for tickets, jerseys, concessions, and pay TV. The halcyon days of Ruth and Mantle waking up with hangovers and modest salaries are long gone, replaced by a new era of O.J. Simpson, Ray Lewis, and Michael Vick receiving exorbitant salaries and White adulation for modern gladiator games while dabbling in atrocities on the side. And those are only some of the worst of the ones who got caught! Just as libertarians deceive themselves that drug habits are victimless crimes, you can convince yourself that funneling scarce resources into the notoriously corrupt and degenerate Sportsball industry is all fun and games. Allocate entertainment funds toward pursuits that better yourself or your family, not enrich thugs.

After wasted time and squandered money, there are few things less deserving of respect than childless White couples shuffling down grocery store aisles in flip flops and oversized jerseys emblazoned with dindu surnames while filling a cart with globalist-produced crap food and cheap swill in expectation of an all-day sports Bacchanalia. You probably know family gatherings where an utterly inconsequential sports game consumed the majority of the men’s attention, or know relatives who miss important family events to attend football games. Sportsball has become an unhealthy, empty substitute for more worthy objects of our passion and tribalism. It would be one thing if New York teams were stocked with upstanding citizens from the Tri-State Area, or LA players hailed from small towns throughout Southern California. In reality we eat and drink ourselves silly following what are largely oversized, undereducated minority mercenaries, telling ourselves that we are entertained while willfully blinding ourselves to the inanity of the routine.

The rationales for Sportsball affliction sound defensive: “I need an outlet.” “It’s innocent fun.” “I can’t be angry all the time.” Fair enough. But there are other ways to get a fix without remaining a sportslave for the rest of your days. First, cut the pay-TV cord. Like an addict whose dealer moved away, you’ll eventually not miss what you can’t get. Professional and collegiate sports are not nicotine, and as a bonus you’ll no longer be subsidizing BET and Logo. Next, if withdrawal comes, look up minor league versions of the behemoths you’re used to feeding. The local high school or Little League teams (unless you write for Salon or National Review) would be even better. Would your ancestors smile down on you cheering for Josés and Jeromes in cavernous, soulless stadiums funded by taxpayers and adorned with the logos of post-national globalist corporations, or on you connecting with neighbors and neighborhood kids at a field down the street? Finally, look up the Standard Pool Parties in your area, or start one yourself. Get a local network going based on mutual interests and hatreds, not corporate tribalism.

Dark days lie ahead. After the Paris and San Bernardino attacks, it is more important than ever that we rise to the coming occasion, and spending our time and money wisely is a critical component. We can find entertainment, even in sports, that doesn’t feed the beast or debase ourselves. Ditching Sportsball will leave you with newfound time, surplus shekels, and the gratification that comes with quitting something worth quitting. Just do it.

Robert Finstock quit professional sports cold turkey upon the epiphany that the performance of the New York Mets should hold zero influence on his life.