Bad Luck

I hate when you write an entire post and your browser crashes and you lose it. I hate turnovers. I hate penalties, especially stupid ones that obviously never existed before today. I HATE stupid announcers who talk for 23405973456897 years about the other team's awesomeness.
And if there's anything I hate more than all that, it's injuries. And clearly somebody annoying figured that out, because everywhere I turn, they stalk me. Every sport I follow, they're there. Like, what do you want from me?? It's the most obnoxious thing ever.
The 2006 Red Sox' catastrophic downfall can be credited to the loss of Jason Varitek, Trot Nixon, Tim Wakefield, Jonathan Papelbon, and basically everyone else on their forty-man roster. So when the Sox' season was over, it was time for football. Brand new sport. Brand new season. And we looked so good; warriors, men of steel -- until the injury train hit. Rodney Harrison. Junior Seau. Josh Miller (we replace him with Ken Walters? Seriously? Every time the guy kicks the ball it goes a maximum of two feet. They might as well just add seven points to the other team's score the second he walks on the field). And the average key player loss is about two a week. Last week, most importantly, was Lawrence Maroney. Whom I love. This week it was the rather portly Vince Wilfork -- you just can't duplicate the effect of him smashing into someone with his 325 pounds of, ahem, muscle -- and Ben Watson, who's pretty much just awesome. And even the guys playing out there are playing through pain, fighting nagging injuries.
I hate injuries. I hate hate hate injuries. Especially because there's no one to blame for them. You can blame stupid calls on the refs. You can blame penalties on guys. You can blame turnovers and stupid announcers and virus-infected computers, but injuries are just bad luck. And if anyone has been given an overdose of bad luck, it's me.