Camp Davis Pays It's Hos and You Should Too [Guest Post]

The near-death of Miami football is a nasty omen for people with heavy investments in college football. But to me, it meant little or nothing.

The method of football operation at Carnegie Mellon was like a friendly, thirsty bouncer in one of New York's most exclusive night clubs. He'll get you in-- but the rest is up to you. And if you could bring him a beer every twenty minutes-- that would be great. Naturally, I spent all my money on over-priced drinks and things and never saw that poor bouncer again.

The University of Miami, though is different. It's a place where pimps thrive and NO ONE eats the complimentary buffet. The metaphor is this:

A vulnerable young girl pays a "club-owner" $100/night for the right to dance at a club. The club then charges a $20 cover to ravenous beasts for the right to come throw their money at the girls. The girls work hard to earn their money back and keep the slight remainder. The pimp is collecting cash all night, so, naturally, he pays no taxes. But the pimp is righteous, and condemns prostitution.

As luck would have it, I know such a "club-owner".

It was 3:30 on a dark Tuesday morning when I heard the phone ring on his personal line in New Jersey. "Too late?" I thought. No, never too late for capitalists or narcoleptics.

The phone rings three times and then:

SIMON:  Hello?
BRAD:   Hi, Simon it's Brad
SIMON:  Ahh, Brad -- you ravenous beast. What can I do for you?
BRAD:  Are you ready for a powerful idea? I wanted to warn you about a crazed sensation that's sweeping the country. It's called THE INTERNET-- and it's threatening to put you out of business...
SIMON:  The internet?
BRAD:  Yes, it's this new phenomenon that's popular with the kids. It lets you see all types of naked women at any time, from anywhere.... for free.
SIMON:   FREEE?!?
BRAD:  Yes, free. But I have an idea...
SIMON:  Well... go on.
BRAD:  Now, Simon what do men like more than anything in the world?
SIMON:   Umm.... Pasta? No, Cannolis.. No, No-- FOOTBALL!!
BRAD:  No, Simon. What men like more than anything in the world is having sex with little girls.
SIMON: OF COURSE!
BRAD:  Now Simon, What do girls like more than anything in the world?
SIMON:  Backhands!
BRAD:  No, Simon. What girls like more than anything in the world is money.
SIMON:   Ahh... precisely. I see where you're going with this...
BRAD:  You do?
SIMON:   Sure, what we need to do is create an internet strip club. So people can pay us ANY TIME FROM ANYWHERE!
BRAD:  Genius. But I was thinking more along the lines of letting men pay your girls to have sex with them. And then splitting the money in exchange for long-term stability and protection.

BRAD: Simon? Hello-- Simon??

SIMON: ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GODDAMNED MIND? You want me to pay MY CUTSOMERS?!? Do you even have the slightest fucking clue as to the implications of what you're suggesting? This is a goddamned institution of the goddmaned arts, and you want me to turn it into some 'revenue-sharing', 'stability-having', 'emancipation-proclamating' socialist dictatorship? Well, fuck you, Brad. Fuck you very much.

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At this, I felt ashamed or flustered. So I punished myself by drinking Vladimir Vodka and listening to local radio.... Maybe Simon was right though. Maybe it was wrong to pay strippers, especially if profiting profusely. And although I didn't feel it now, perhaps my college degree did make me better than everyone else-- especially if I'll be smothered in debt for the next 17-20 years. But so what? It's was time to focus on life's more meaningful pursuits. It was time to become a professional baseball player or plumber or something hip.

It was time to start a football farm league. To give kids the choice in the tag-team match between no-pay and degree vs. pay and trade-skill. It was time for a competitive (Eurpoean) alternative to college football, where teams could train future-professionals in their systems and sell their developed players to the highest bidders when the time was right. It was time to admit that money does not inherently breed corruption-- and if used without manipulation, breeds clarity. It was time to tell shitty players they were shitty. And not with the passive-aggressive, my $20 almuni-handshake was better than your $5 alumni-handshake bullshit. It was time to admit that no one gives a fuck about the University of Miami. That people came to see Ed Reed, Andre Johnson, Ray Lewis, and Ken Dorsey. It was time to admit that Ken Dorsey was shitty, too.

And so, without further adue, it brings me great pleasure today to announce the grand opening of two new football youth academies. The first will be located in Miami, Florida-- and will operate under the Miami Dolphins administration. The other, dubbed "Camp Davis" will be located in Oakland, California. Here, accepeted students will learn a trade during the day, and train with world-class coaches and athletes during the night. While the schools accept no external individual applications, they employ some of the nation's top football scouts. All players who meet the qualifications will be paid a yearly salary of $30,000/year while receiving tution-free training at local trade schools. "We see it as a paradigm shift in youth sport," said Al Davis, "because at the end of day it's about having a choice to pursue your path in life. And if you want to be a professional athlete, we believe we've created the best possible path."