There is a cynical side to sports that would be wide enough to orbit a small moon through. It is this ugly side which has a ready answer to a professional athlete’s sudden meteoric rise in production, “It’s a contract year.” The meaning behind this phrase is simple – the player is auditioning for his next contract, because the current one will be over sooner than you can say “show me the money.”
Now imagine my surprise when I find the good stuff in the employee bathroom this afternoon. This toilet paper was so fine you could buff the paint on your average luxury automobile with it. Yep, pretty sweet eh?
What gives? That’s right friends, it’s a contract year. The lease is up next year and the management is auditioning for the next one. Finally, our hosts are showing us public service peons a little love. I just wonder why it took so long, re: the nine years we’ve been here so far. Why does it always seem like no one wants to talk until the money is about to walk?