Wednesday, May 13, 1998
Get yourself decked out to celebrate new holiday
COLUMN: Shaq-mas will tout Laker purple, gold, Pepsi, Reebok,
Gorditas
As those of you out there with moms undoubtedly know already,
Mother’s Day came and went this past Sunday, and madres across the
land received cards, calls, flowers and gifts in appreciation of
their parentage.
What you might not know is that the whole thing is bogus –
nothing but an ingenious marketing scam by the boys in the greeting
card industry. I guess there just weren’t enough birthdays,
graduations and illnesses to move those happy little paper
products, so a few decades back, some genius at Hallmark hit on the
idea of creating a new holiday.
Same thing with Father’s Day, Grandparents Day (Sept. 13),
Secretary’s Day, and most of the other national holidays.
This got me thinking: if something as inane as greeting cards
could create new holidays, why couldn’t something as deeply
intertwined with the American psyche as sports do it, too? And who
better to do it than me, the guy who has quite easily come up with
some of the lamest ideas in the history of athletics? (Editor’s
note: See Rob’s articles on sex for small sports, talkin’ trash
with J.R. Rider, and Rob’s interview with race horse Indian
Charlie.)
So, I got together with my friends in the athletic shoe, fast
food and soft drink industries, and we came up with a little
celebration of our own …
Shaq-mas.
Oh, what a joyous thing every May (playoff time) to see the
cities and towns covered in the festive holiday colors – purple and
gold.
Each family could have their very own 7-foot-1-inch, 315-pound
man, who they would decorate with basketballs, taco supremes,
Pepsis and Reebok apparel. (A word of advice: Make sure your
Shaq-mas man’s got enough water at the base or he’ll dry out.)
Of course, after a while people would start buying
cheesy-looking plastic men that they drag out year after year to
save a few bucks. Some of the spirit would be lost, sure, but what
can you do?
Natural or fake, though, just imagine the joyous squeals of the
children as they tear open the traditional Shaq-mas presents
stacked neatly under him: "Yippie, I got the Shaq action figure!";
"Wow, an athletic supporter!"; or "Oh boy, a tape of ‘Kazaam’!
Mommy, now we’ll have something to burn for heat when winter
comes!"
The night before Shaq-mas (Shaq-mas Eve, for those in the know),
mommies and daddies would hang tube socks from the mantelpiece, and
the kiddies would leave Gorditas and Big Slams for the Diesel and
his entourage.
Then, some time after midnight, the big fella and his elves
(Nick Van Exel, Derek Fisher and John Barry) would come in low over
the rooftops in their flying red Mercedes, bringing treats for all
the good boys and girls.
For the grown-ups, instead of mistletoe, there would be
Bacchanalian bunches of grapes hung around the house: Catch a cutie
under one and, instead of some lame-o kiss, you get the chance for
an illegitimate child, just like the real athletes have. (See last
week’s column if you don’t get that one.)
And, who could help but love those heart-warming Shaq-mas
carols, "O Come All Ye Lakers Faithful," "Dunk the Balls," "Elden
the Slow Man," and, my personal favorite, "The Twelve Days of
Shaq-mas":
"On the 12th day of Shaq-mas my all-star gave to me …
Twelve toasted Sonics,
Eleven hustling teammates,
Ten-point-eight rebounds,
Nine-for-twelve free throws (in game four, pretty freakin’ good
for the Daddy),
Eight boards by Corie,
Seven feet of center,
Six seasons playing,
Five fingers and no rings (per hand, of course),
Four playoff rounds,
Three hundred pounds,
Two years with us,
And a sidekick named Kobe."
Sure, we might have to put up with 24-hour marathons of "Blue
Chips" or "Steel" (a la "It’s a Wonderful Life"), but isn’t that a
small price to pay for bringing a little more joy to the world?
What’s that? "Blasphemous," you say?
How so?
Christmas and Shaq-mas are completely different, as different as
the two men who inspired them. Think about it: Jesus walked on
water and turned loaves into fishes, water into wine; O’Neal walks
on air and turns baskets into points, free throws into adventures.
Completely different.
To be fair, though, we did kick around some other ideas first,
but they all either lacked appeal or had problems that couldn’t be
resolved:
Piazzster – an agent in a large bunny suit hides brightly
colored $100 million contracts in a large grassy area (the
outfield, for example), and professional athletes race to find
them.
St. McIlvaine’s Day – everyone dresses in green and does their
best leprechaun-like disappearing act.
Horryween – children go door-to-door for sneakers and
sweatbands. (Unfortunately, we couldn’t figure out a way for the
carved basketballs to stay up long enough to fit a candle in
them.)
And one guy had all kinds of ideas for a holiday involving Corie
Blount, but all of them sounded a bit illegal, and that many cases
of the munchies all at once would have been tough to deal with.
That left us with Shaq-mas.
It’s really not a bad holiday, when you think about it.
Now, if only we could get Hallmark on board, we might be onto
something.
Kariakin is going to hell.