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Four weeks into this NFL season my Idea Man called me all wound up proclaiming the Washington Commanders were the hottest team in the league and I needed to make a song that would go viral and make Sammy Sportface kitchen table conversation across American homes everywhere.
I was reluctant because I didn’t believe the Commanders were going to sustain their winning streak and because I had never made a song before. But Idea Man is like a lion when he has an idea he believes will light up the skies in both the Northern and Southern Hemispheres.
So I gave in even though I at the time didn’t even care about my old team from boyhood anymore because for three decades they had shattered me and I was like a boyfriend whose girlfriend had busted up with eight or nine times and I couldn’t take the abuse anymore. Pain avoidance was my go-to posture.
But I caved to Idea Man’s all-world intensity. Wrote down some lyrics, and sent them to Idea Man and a music elitist we both know. They told me the words weren’t good and maybe a rap song wasn’t such a good idea and to start all over again because my first cut was lame and a non-starter.
Refining the lyrics, I finally got them to green-light it. There were some audio recording snafus and ultimately I got the first version down and wanted the project to be done so I could go on with my life and get Idea Man off my case.
The story gets less uplifting from here on. I sent the recording to the Washington Post and Washington Times sports editors and a few D.C. radio stations and got no traction. Maybe it was my voice; maybe the lyrics; or maybe they’re just not good judges of a good story to write about: the launch of a rap song by a guy who has never rapped before but whose lyrics reveal his excitement about a team he has given up on forever. Something didn’t land for them and we all have to accept that.
It gets worse. While at Starbucks one morning I saw one of my friends and told him he had to listen to my new song which he wasn’t predisposed to do. Channeling Idea Man’s power of persuasion, I got my friend to cave.
“It’s a rap song,” I said.
“You’re not good at it,” he said.
A few weeks later I was in Connecticut at a victory party after Wake Forest whomped UConn in football. A bevy of Wake friends gathered at Mac’s house and had some food. Tunes played; this was before Crash Adams so I didn’t demand they be played. Everything was nice and smooth. The opportunity for me to promote my song became too tempting so I interrupted the music to play a recording of my rap song. Heads turned. Conversations got interrupted. Besides me, no one knew what they were hearing but it wasn’t music; it was something else. They started whispering to each other and I know this because I saw them. They were saying things like “Sportface is trying to promote his new rap song and make it go viral so he becomes famous and rich and can stop working to write Sportface blogs full time”; and “The guy doesn’t know when to stop promoting himself.”
So my song didn’t go over well. It was tolerated but not embraced. The real music went on again and there was no discussion of my rap song. Everybody just wanted the entire episode and musical creation to vanish.
Weeks went by. The Skins (Commandos) kept winning, fans went Commmando watching the Commandos, and no one mentioned my rap song. It was as if a rap song fell in the woods but no one liked it so it never happened. I felt like Willie Loman, the bad salesman in the play “Death of a Salesman.” The title of a play about me one day will be “Death of a Song.”
But the Skins are still alive. They’re playing tomorrow during Wild Card Weekend. All my skepticism about this team and organization, all my trepidations about getting sucked into believing it’s possible they could go on a playoff run, all my indifference, is now gone.
My faith in my Skins is renewed. My belief in my rap song has been revivified. My steadfast commitment to making sure this song goes uber-viral has intensified beyond belief.
So I’m now re-releasing it for the third time in the same football season. Listen to this on Saturday and Sunday mornings to pump your veins with hot blood, to get the tingles sprinkling on your forearms and the back of your neck.
Without even trying, you’ll be walking around singing to yourself: “Don’t Be Callin’ Us Salamanders, We Are the Washington Commanders.”
Go Commando. Bro.
Groove throughout Wild Card Weekend by clicking here:
My New Football Rap Song Released Today – NGSC Sports
Author Profile
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Sammy Sportface, a sports blogger, galvanizes, inspires, and amuses The Baby Boomer Brotherhood. And you can learn about his vision and join this group's Facebook page here:
Sammy Sportface Has a Vision -- Check It Out
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