We always think its a little bit funny when a newspaper sportswriter dies and all the other sportswriters memorialize him like he was the Single Greatest Human Who Has Ever Walked The Face Of The Earth, because we know exactly what’s going on there. Not that we blame the eulogists, of course. They want people to fawn over them when they die, so they do their part when their collegues pass. We get it.
But this Larry Fitzgerald thing is too much. In case you’ve missed the coverage in every single paper, Fitzgerald’s father is a sportswriter and Fitzgerald is about the biggest stud playing in the Super Bowl. And sportswriters love this. Not only does it give them an outlet to discuss one of their favorite topics — the fallacy of journalistic disinterest — but it gives them hope that despite all their failures in athletic pursuits, they, too, might someday have a son who grows up to be the best wide receiver in the NFL.
Guess what? Probably not going to happen. And as cool as we think Larry Fitzgerald Jr. is, we’re so sick of hearing about his father that we kind of wish the whole thing would just go away. We thought the big story at the Super Bowl would be Kurt Warner and his wife having the same hair stylist again, but no — apparently she’s grown her hair out and he’s too busy drawing God Jesus.



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