Showing posts with label Patriots suck. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Patriots suck. Show all posts

Friday, February 27, 2015

Pittsburgh landmark defaced by Patriot fans


I was appalled to see a brash obscenity plastered on one of my favorite Pittsburgh landmarks. Even more appalling, I was the only one who seemed notice.

Maybe that’s good.

That way no Pittsburgh ice skaters will rush out to seek investment advice from MassMutual Financial Group.

Of course, they must be a pretty persuasive bunch.

How else do you explain caretakers at PPG Plaza allowing them to deface a work of art with four of their cheesy advertisements?

The base of the enigmatic obelisk that centers PPG’s popular ice skating rink in the heart of Pittsburgh’s Golden Triangle is now sided with MassMutual ads.

I’ll admit, it’s not exactly like dressing the Mona Lisa up in a Geico NASCAR jumpsuit, but it is unbelievably crass.

First, let’s consider the 31-year-old building, the most sparkling asset on Pittsburgh’s magnificent skyline. It is a 6-building complex covering three city blocks around the dominant 40-floor tower.

Architects covered the glass-maker’s HQ with more than one million square feet of PPG Solarban 550 clear reflective glass so they positively shimmer.

From Pittsburgh’s grand overlooks, the PPG Towers look like Oz’s Emerald City would if the Emerald City had been designed and constructed by Steeler fans.

Know what else I like about the building? No signs!

Yes, Pittsburgh skyscrapers have over the last 15 years been branded out the wazoo. PPG doesn’t need to stoop to such unseemly hucksterism. Its glass building says it all.

I admire that.

Now let’s consider the art. The obelisk was designed by building architects Philip Johnson and John Burgee. And while I love the building, the obelisk has always left me cold — and that was way before they surrounded it with ice.

It’s stark. It’s unimaginative. It looks like it was designed by two guys in a hurry to get the hell out of Pittsburgh before the rivers all froze.

It’s just four black spheres atop a rose granite base crowned by a nondescript 44-foot rose granite obelisk.

When it was unveiled in 1984, meat ’n’ potato Pittsburghers looked at it and said, “Huh?”

Pittsburgh Post-Gazette columnist Peter Leo brilliantly declared it “The Tomb of the Unknown Bowler” and said the sparse plaza looked like a dandy place to host a public execution.

So as art goes, the obelisk doesn’t resonate. In fact, neither did the plaza. 

That all changed in 2001 when PPG bestowed the square — and the art — with heart. It gave it over to Pittsburgh’s children.

It installed a delightful water park around the obelisk where golf-ball sized bursts shoot straight up as high as 20 feet. It’s utterly delightful. Me and my family have played there among the sprays dozens of times over the summers.

I’ve taken my lunch and a newspapers there just to relax and watch the children playing.

It makes me happy.

Around the same time, someone thought it would be a great idea to infuse the plaza with the same joyous atmosphere in winter. They built a small ice rink around the obelisk, which in the holiday season is dressed as a Christmas tree. 

The plaza has become the go-to place for TV crews in town to snag some color about what it’s like to live in Pittsburgh.

Now, let’s consider the ads.

The only thing I know about MassMutual is that the Mass is short for Massachusetts.

Know what that means? A Pittsburgh landmark is being defaced by New England Patriot fans!

If someone were caught spray-painting a message on the same space they’d go to jail — even if the message was something on which sensible jurors could all agree like, say, “Patriots Suck!”

But mingling art with advertising is just crass.

And it’s beneath PPG, a company that in 2013 was reported to have earned revenues of $15.1 billion.

If you’re going to be a tasteless sell out, you might as well go all the way and carve “VIAGRA!” up and down the sides of the towering erection.

That kind of advertising would at least justify my hard feelings.



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Monday, January 14, 2013

NFL playoffs: a rooting fan's guide


All but four teams are left in the NFL march to the Super Bowl. That means the rest of the country needs to find some artificial reason to become momentary fans of foreign teams populated by mostly strangers and garden variety felons.

It’s particularly tough here in Pittsburgh where playoff football is considered our birthright. We’ve won more Super Bowls -- six -- than any other city and have in our collective scrapbook some of the NFL’s most heirloom plays and players.

I love the NFL.

And that’s not easy these days because I believe our premier sports league is in a steep decline.

These days to be a fan of the NFL, you need to first be a fan of beer and truck commercials. That’s what takes up most of the 3 1/2 hours of a typical game in which there is on average about 11 minutes of watching men actually playing football.

Infuriating refereeing leads to interminable delays while replay refs take forever to come up with calls that seem to defy logic, not to mention clear visual evidence. Career-ending injuries are pervasive. Tickets cost about $100; warm domestic beers about $10 -- and those are the pre-season prices.

The marquee players are often preening divas, many of whom have arrest records for beating either girlfriends, wives or the occasional over-served fans. The owners are egotistical asses, PEDs are rampant, analysts are blowhards, commissioner Roger Goodell has a messiah complex,Thursday and Sunday night games suck for home fans  . . .

Where was I? Oh, right.

I love the NFL!

So let me take you through my thought process on how I determine for whom I’m going to root. I ask myself the following questions:

Have I enjoyed myself in the team’s city? Do I know any fans from there? Are they obnoxious? Do they owe me any money? Do I owe them any money? Have they ever won a championship before? Is their owner a bigger jerk than the owner against whom he’s competing?

Let’s run ‘em down.

First up: San Francisco 49ers v. Atlanta Falcons.

My wife and I honeymooned in San Francisco and my every memory of being there is golden. Best part? We smuggled a bottle of cheap champagne and a sleeve of plastic cups onto the Golden Gate Bridge. Out in the center we popped the cork and announced to a host of smiling strangers, many of them internationals, “We just got married. We’d like you to join us in a toast to our marriage and your happiness!”

It was beautiful. We heard hearty congratulations in about a dozen foreign tongues. At least I think they were congratulations. They may have been saying “We love free hootch!” I never bothered to check.

I love the city. But the 49ers have won five Super Bowls. As a Steeler fan, I can’t abide them encroaching on our sacred six. So sorry, San Fran. You’re out.

Atlanta? It’s one of the few major U.S. cities in which I haven’t been there long enough to do anything more than urinate. When I think of Atlanta, I think of how obnoxious their fans were when they delivered the most devastating loss I’ve ever known, that being the Braves over the Pittsburgh Pirates in 1992. So there’s really no reason for me to root for Atlanta.

In the AFC we have the Baltimore Ravens v. the New England Patriots:

This is a toughie because the Ravens are maybe Pittsburgh’s greatest rival ever and I really respect the way Baltimore plays football. And I’ve had some magnificent times in Baltimore. But there’s one outstanding reason for being against the Ravens and he wears no. 52.

That’s Ray Lewis. We’ll never know his role in the year 2000 double murders in Atlanta, but we know he knows who did it and two young men lie in graves soaked with tears of loved ones who cry out in vain for justice. That’s a lot to forgive.

And, yeah, I hate his pre-game dance, his sideline pep rallies, and how he tries to drag God onto the field when everyone knows God loves Dan Rooney and the Steelers.

That leaves the Patriots, which means that leaves next to nothing. I’ve had some nice times in Boston and am friends with several diehard fans. But I hate Tom Brady and Bill Belichick. Together the pair won three Super Bowls in four years (2002-’05), but those were prior to their admission that they were guilty of massive cheating.

Ever since they’ve squandered the prime years of one of football’s greatest quarterbacks and only have two soul-searing Super Bowl losses to show for it.

And that pleases me.

So here’s for whom I’ll be rooting:

I want the Falcons to beat the 49ers, the Patriots to beat the Ravens and the Falcons to beat the Patriots.

Yes, I’m rooting for Atlanta, home to multitudes of people who pissed me off living a place I’ve only been to relieve my bladder.

It’s silly, shallow and superficial.

And that’s exactly the kind of analysis you can expect from here through the Super Bowl Sunday.

All wet.


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