“Clear & Obvious” is a new kind of sort of vertical/brand/excuse for us to make fun of the deeply strange and wonderful world of MLS. Please take it very seriously.
**This was supposed to run right after the All-Star game but things happened. We know he was good against LAG. We know he’s going to be fine the rest of the year. Don’t @ us.**
Pity looked at the note cards he had carefully assembled the night before and realized that the well-crafted prose he remembered working tirelessly on had somehow turned into the health facts for a can of Campbell’s Tomato Soup and oh no these weren’t note cards they were a single can of Campbell’s Tomato Soup.
He had given this presentation countless of times at his old school. Man, he missed his old school. He thought he would like his new school but his new school was just a thinly veiled metaphor for Atlanta United who were only four points away from being out of the playoffs entirely. Also, he was still unsure of what playoffs were.
They had practiced their presentations in class and his hadn’t gone well for some reason. Even still, the group had picked him to present in front of the entire school. The whole process had stressed him out and that meant that stress eating became a very real part of his daily routine and for some reason five Publix chicken tender subs a day had slowed down his presentation skills. Even still, he didn’t understand why he struggled so much, or how a presentation in front of school made sense as a metaphor for an All-Star game. Also, he was still unsure of what an All-Star game was.
Maybe, just maybe, a change of scenery, a big stage and a new teacher leading the presentations would cure the regular and out of place mistakes he’d been making.
The assembly waited for him to speak. A few had already begun to check their phones. He looked to the new teacher to see if a new face could inspire any confi--
He threw up on the stage.
A handful of faculty members rushed to his side. They tried to take him off stage. They wanted to help. A custodian sighed and picked up his cleaning supplies after adding “Pity M.” to a growing list labeled “Give Mop Face.” Pity stuck out his hand. The faculty kept trying to help. He threw out his hand again, forcefully this time. The vomit had given him a new sense of resolve. He was tired of the talk behind his back. He was tired of not living up to his own expectations. He was tired of being blamed for Atlanta United being terrible, they’re like, only four points away from not making the playoffs.
Pity stood tall. The faculty backed away. He looked confident. He seemed different. This might be the moment.
He stepped up to the mic.
“Webster’s Dictionary defines--”
The crowd booed.