so I have a cold. my head feels like it should explode. I’d do a whole lot better if it did. but alas, it won’t.
tonight I attended a societal function for engineers. imagine some of the biggest, dorkiest, geekiest, hyper-criti-analy-tical, self-important and blanch whitest motherfuckers in the greater philthadelphia area congregating in one place to honor outstanding engineering projects. this is exactly why I can’t wait to walk away from this profession. it’s boring as shit.
if I could have gouged my eyes out with a rusty spoon I would have.
at least it would have relieved the sinus pressure.
so one of the projects was a high school athletic facility. that’s right, I sat through a presentation on the construction of a high school athletic facility. how “neat.” I feel like I should have stepped away from the Lego’s back as a kid and gone straight for the paste.
so after suffering through the presentation, it’s time for questions. who has any questions? and of course there are questions! you must be kidding, we have questions! “how have artificial turfs advanced over the years?” ohhh my! (schwing) good question.
do you want to know how they have advanced? I can tell you. yes me. right here, right now (it’s actually kind of fascinating):
the synthetic fibers they once used to roll down over top the base material of the fields (which now come with perforated pvc drainage systems) topped out at a maximum inch long. nowadays, the fiber they throw down is 2.5 inchs in length. how can we stand on 2.5 inch long synthetic fibers and not sink and squish? you might inquire. well, let me tell you, they vibrate sand and rubber particles into the fibers, to stiffen it and provide a measure of stability and rigidity. fascinating! tell me, are there any metrics for comparing different materials? we like metrics!
this is where it gets interesting.
there is a metric! god save the queen!
it’s called the G-max rating. look it up. I shit you not.
basically you hold bead of metal of some sort a standard measure of distance at a certain ambient temperature above the turf, let it drop and measure the height of the bounce. calculate and boom, you get number. yay number. now we can compare. yay compare.
momma, I was born to compare.
smack! how was that one smartass?
that was a 10.
typical turf grass can range from 40 G’s in a wet fall and spring, to 200+ G’s in a hot dry summer or butt cold winter. the newer synthetic stuff ranges from 120-140 G’s throughout the year, for years, with little maintenance.
how boring.
the comments in the audience tonight ranged from:
“it’ll help prevent injuries”
“they won’t muck up the field”
“less maintenance”
“the athletes will have less variability under foot and play better”
to my bright, witty and insightful:
“it will reduce their athleticism”
which I didn’t see anyone else get. maybe someone else was thinking it, but I didn’t see or hear it.
the goal of modernism is to humanify the world as we see it. to make it our own. we own it shape it fuck it and determine everything and anything that can and will go on where and how.
we will level it and render it useful to humanity. type, type go I!
here, we’re levelling the playing field. sure it makes “sense,” but what fun is that? what’s the sense in throwing a fucking oblong ball around a field tackling each other in padded lycra?
safety maintenance cost ease comfort better progress technology.
fucking YAWN already.
it’s an outdoor full contact sport, you dumbfucks. it’s supposed to be challenging. if you want a controlled experiment, go play chess.
the player that lands from making a catch in actual mud versus the one landing on the 130 G rated petroleum based synthetic is going to be far superior an athlete, not because he trained more or lifted more or ate better or was paid more, but because the conditions he can play in and succeed in are more diverse. the repertoire and depth of the player can best be determined by the shit he’s played on, through and with, if you will, and still succeeded. there’s also such a phenomenon known as a horse for the course. this is also why a warm Super Bowl is boring. give me a game in the shitting snow you fucks. I want to see frozen blood and sweat. GREEN BAY. CHICAGO. NEW ENGLAND. let’s find out what they’re MADE OF.
this is where modernity and its aims have reached new levels of masterbational effect. we’re leveling the fun and danger and excitement from out of our lives; the very things that make life worth living and give us meaning and strength and character. the very talents and traits that we admire are regulated and modernized and civilized away, dismissed by some strange allegiance to new, better, beyond, comfort, ease, efficiency, ecnonomy. fuck transcendence. get muddy. let it ruin you, let it hurt you, let it shape you. and fight it, fight for your life. but just don’t handicap yourself.
now, if only people weren’t willing to pay me money to do this for them.
I give up. what’s a guy to do?
I need a new career.
Dude, that was awesome. Could not agree more. And even though you didn’t touch on it, it was a damn good metaphor for ‘cross as well.
— Chris Mayhew Dec 21, 02:32 PM permalink