I, Me, Mine

Sometimes, words are simply not sufficient. You sit at a keyboard full of mirth or bile or insight (well, we can be hopeful, right?) and the blank "Post to your blog" screen just sits there on the desk with a mocking little smirk: "Go ahead, hotshot; spit it out".

But try as I may I just can't give expression to my feelings about THIS TALE FROM THE OFFSIDE.

In case you missed it, a couple young freinds, nine and ten years old, went to see the LA Beckhams play soccer, just like Don Garber planned it. They have a big sign, something about Beckham.

Becks sees them, thinks "cute kids" and on his way out does a "Thanks Mean Joe" moment (no word on whether they gave him a Purple Beverage) and hands them his shirt.

The lads are understandably ecstatic and, in the innocence and faith that you and I lost many years ago they agree to "share" the prize, rotating weekly posession of the sweat stained garment.

End of story? HAH!

Soon afterwards, the parents of the nine year old hand the ten year old another Beckham jersey, telling him that the indecipherable smudge of Sharpie ink on the front is DB's very own personal signature, obtained in the locker room after the match, and generously offer to give it to the kid so that both boys can have their own shirt.

Better all the time, right?

Only problem is, the parents had bought the second shirt at the concession stand, smeared the ink on themselves and had, essentially, defrauded a ten year old out of a sports ouvenier.

And as these things always do, in the finest tradition of American sports, the whole thing is headed to court as the ten year olds parents are now suing the nine year old.

Ain't life just grand?

As noted by A BLOGGER ON AOL SPORTS even a cement-headed clown like Micheal Wilbon came up with a win-win solution to this ridiculous tale of greed:

Have Beckham (or the Gals) GIVE THE OTHER KID A SIGNED SHIRT.

But instead of actually doing something intelligent, we get a long speech from Panayotis Lalas about what "a terrible tragedy blah blah blah friendship blah blah blah great fans blah blah blah lessons to learn blah blha blah I'm a moron blah blah.." well, OK he skipped the last one.

Let's leave aside the kind of lowlife "parents" who'd pull a stunt like this; we can all agree they need to be horsewhipped. Surely there's a special corner of hell reserved for people who rip off little kids so that their precious little Johnny can Bogart the goodies.

To hell with being proud that your kid has learned the meaning of sharing and friendship. There's an eBay sale in here someplace, and dammit, their kid is getting the loot.

I know it's redundant to ask if the guys running the Galaxy are asleep at the switch; judging by their last few personnel decisions, they're not just asleep they've been given a monstrous Roofie dose in their Bosco and are now being molested by every GM in the league.

But surely somewhere in the Beckham entourage of lickspittles, hangers-on and yes men there's someone with enough synaptic activity to come up with what, to the rest of the planet, seems like a really good idea.