Health Care Reform and the Paul Blank Invitational
Eric Horowitz - With the 12th annual Paul J. Blank Invitational right around the corner a single question permeates the minds of fans, players, and the liberal media: How will health care reform affect the PBI? After all, as a registered 501(c)(3) our beloved football game is not immune from the whims of ACORN’s puppet-legislators. Right off the bat, allow me to allay your biggest fear. As in previous years, all abortion-related procedures will be covered, even those which are a consequence of Clyde’s half-price wine night.
There will also be some financial changes. Under the bill’s current language players who wear cleats will be eligible for a $2.43 registration credit. Recent studies show wearing cleats leads to a decrease in groin injuries and the new credit will incentive these healthy footwear decisions. The bad news is that players will see a $1.42 hike in registration fees. The new “tax” will ensure the trunk of Paul Blank’s car has the mandated number of Percocet pills. (Obviously the painkillers are strictly for treating game injuries of a physical, psychological, or spiritual nature.)
As the one of the PBI’s numerous lobbyists on retainer, people constantly ask me about the game’s position on health-care reform. As of right now, the PBI does not have an official position. The Board of Directors is still fielding under-the-table monetary offers from various special interest groups.
Nevertheless, if you examine the core values of the PBI an answer begins to crystallize. The game’s ethos of “Kindness and Cold Sienna’s Pizza for your Fellow Man” is clearly in line with the Senate Finance Committee’s goals of expanding coverage. And don’t forget that when a player suffers a serious injury they are provided with one working crutch and a free Ziploc bag of ice. If that behavior doesn’t scream “coverage for all” then I don’t know what does.
Why do I mention these hackneyed health-care reform issues? Because they are emblematic of how the PBI is molded by forces outside of our control. Sometimes you can’t make it home for Thanksgiving. Sometimes a bum ankle keeps you from playing. Sometime the referee costs your team the game by penalizing you for miming an act of sodomy in your touchdown celebration.
Over the years these obstacles have fashioned the PBI into something greater. The game now transcends those three hours on the field; it radiates outward like the cheers of a JDS “spirit squad.” The multifarious levels of involvement have fostered a sense community more inviting than the Ring House parking lot. No matter what, we are all a part of it.
When some poor sap from the class of 2006 is blindsided by a grizzled veteran on the game’s opening kickoff you may not have a flag around your waist. But in this 12th year of spirit, style, and increased focus on the kicking game, you can rest assured that every one of us is on that metaphorical field.
There will also be some financial changes. Under the bill’s current language players who wear cleats will be eligible for a $2.43 registration credit. Recent studies show wearing cleats leads to a decrease in groin injuries and the new credit will incentive these healthy footwear decisions. The bad news is that players will see a $1.42 hike in registration fees. The new “tax” will ensure the trunk of Paul Blank’s car has the mandated number of Percocet pills. (Obviously the painkillers are strictly for treating game injuries of a physical, psychological, or spiritual nature.)
As the one of the PBI’s numerous lobbyists on retainer, people constantly ask me about the game’s position on health-care reform. As of right now, the PBI does not have an official position. The Board of Directors is still fielding under-the-table monetary offers from various special interest groups.
Nevertheless, if you examine the core values of the PBI an answer begins to crystallize. The game’s ethos of “Kindness and Cold Sienna’s Pizza for your Fellow Man” is clearly in line with the Senate Finance Committee’s goals of expanding coverage. And don’t forget that when a player suffers a serious injury they are provided with one working crutch and a free Ziploc bag of ice. If that behavior doesn’t scream “coverage for all” then I don’t know what does.
Why do I mention these hackneyed health-care reform issues? Because they are emblematic of how the PBI is molded by forces outside of our control. Sometimes you can’t make it home for Thanksgiving. Sometimes a bum ankle keeps you from playing. Sometime the referee costs your team the game by penalizing you for miming an act of sodomy in your touchdown celebration.
Over the years these obstacles have fashioned the PBI into something greater. The game now transcends those three hours on the field; it radiates outward like the cheers of a JDS “spirit squad.” The multifarious levels of involvement have fostered a sense community more inviting than the Ring House parking lot. No matter what, we are all a part of it.
When some poor sap from the class of 2006 is blindsided by a grizzled veteran on the game’s opening kickoff you may not have a flag around your waist. But in this 12th year of spirit, style, and increased focus on the kicking game, you can rest assured that every one of us is on that metaphorical field.
