Now is the season of Miami's discontent, thanks to our terrible local teams. The Dolphins are a joke. The Marlins are even worse than last year. The University of Miami Hurricanes aren't much better, losing to Kansas State by 39 points. The Florida Panthers are locked out. And South Florida's one championship-caliber team, the Heat, doesn't suit up for another month.
But before you're tempted to channel your sexual frustration into something productive, like painting your house or, you know, actually having sex, fear not! There are dozens of often-overlooked sports waiting for your endless hours of fanatic attention.
Quidditch: So what if J.K. Rowling made it up when she was high on bath salts and mistook her toothbrush for a broom? All great sports are invented via insanity or accident. UM's football team may be mediocre, but its quidditch team is tops in the nation. Once you get past the absurdity of the game — actually, you never get past the absurdity of it. But it's better than watching K-State sack Stephen Morris all afternoon.
Bocce (free) balling: If you've watched the Marlins this year, you've witnessed Ozzie Guillen's slow, goatee-first slide into Spanglish senility. But old age need not be so sad. All across South Florida, there are septuagenarians who wake up every morning, put on the coffee pot, take off their clothes, and go play nude bocce. Once you get over the ball-clacking, you'll be obsessing over your fantasy nude bocce team in no time.
Bikini basketball: Beginning next year, a five-some of buxom beauties will become the inaugural squad for the Miami Spice, our entry in a new national bikini basketball league. Sure, these ladies aren't quite as naked as our local elderly nudist bocce stars, but they are considerably more attractive.
Fermented mango deathball: OK, this one hasn't been invented quite yet. But we foresee a near future where, instead of haggling over the state budget, Gov. Rick Scott will instead select "volunteers" from across Florida to participate in a new game called fermented mango deathball. Pay-per-view fees for the sadistic contest will fund our floundering peninsula for another year. Miami, we predict, will be absorbed by the story of a plucky local who will outlive his rivals by mastering the art of getting drunk on and then killing opponents with the fermented fallen mangoes that litter the Sunshine State. Because of his long-shot victory, we will all have running water for another year.
