The Writer's Life 12/2 - Farce

College football coach Jimbo Fisher has jumped ship from Florida St. to Texas A&M, signing the most lucrative contract in NCAA history - ten years, $75 million. This prompted an intelligent tweet from former NFL backup QB Sage Rosenfels, who believes the money given Fisher belies the claim that there isn't enough to pay college football players. I'm against paying college players. I believe only true student athletes should represent their schools. The onus should be on the NFL, which  profits from free player development. They should set up a minor league system similar to that of MLB - at least one 50-man roster per pro team, which would remove 1600 players who do not belong on campus. That's not nearly enough house cleaning, I suppose, and it might lead to even more under the table payments. Maybe there's no way out of the muck. A trend that highlights the travesty that college football has become, that became widespread last year, is continuing. For its bowl game, Texas, which finished 6-6, will be without two starters who will not risk an injury that would jeopardize their position in the 2018 pro draft. Who can blame them? A bowl game that features a team or teams without a winning record is a farce. And just when it seemed the owners couldn't be any more spineless, they have come up with a way to dampen the player protests - a payment to "social justice" organizations. At least two players have said they will cease protesting. Money talks. The owners caved as if being shaken down by Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson.

Suddenly Democrats are deficit hawks. Politicians never cease reaching for a new low in phoniness.

My thanks to the elderly woman who purchased Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre, which she said she read in Russian long ago, and to the middle age one who bought Chaim Potok's The Promise and a book in Russian. The highlight of the day was seeing the smile on the face of local Super Mayor Mike when I handed him this week's proceeds from the sale of the vinyl records he gave me. He will leave his job at the end of the month and head to Virginia, where his son built a little house for him on his property. I'll miss him... While sorting through the albums, a gentleman told me he believed Paul McCartney died in 1966. The impostor has certainly written a lot of songs since then, many of which were big hits. Another gentleman asked me to come to his house in the Finger Lakes region and empty his six-car garage of the 2000 records and hundreds of books and stuff that fill it. He opened a tall can of Coors while we were speaking. I suspect it wasn't his first of the day.

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