Welcome to My Lawsuit

Welcome to my lawsuit.
 

For years I played your game.  I made a lot of money.  I had a lot of fun.  It was my choice.
 

But you told me that you were keeping your game safer than you really were.  Other players used drugs.  They used drugs that made them stronger.  More aggressive.  Gave them better vision and focus to hit me.  You put my health at risk.  I knew the game was dangerous.  But that was something different.  That was like handing my opponent a crowbar before he walked into the cage.
 

Now I’m screwed.  I get angrier than I used to.  I forget things that I’ve known for years.  People have to tell me their names three or four times.  It’s hard to keep a job that way.  Or a wife or a family.  And you’re still fine.  You dissed the rank and file fighters.  Now my fight is going to court.
 

You see there are two keys to my lawsuit.  You knew; that’s the first key.  You knew that my opponents were using these Superman drugs.  You knew that your testing was inadequate.  And now I have a neurologist and a biologist and a psychiatrist here ready to testify that those drugs were endangering anyone who faced my opponent.  That’s the second key; that you put me in danger.  And if you knew and you put me in danger, then my lawsuit has teeth.
 

The great thing about my lawsuit is that I have momentum.  People are on my side.  Bloggers and reporters and commentators all feel for me.  They know I chose a risky sport.  Hell, I do too.  But they also know that your drug testing was lame.  Or at least lamer than it should’ve been.
 

It’s a tale that’s been told a thousand times, really.  Somebody starts up a business that requires dangerous work.  The workers — whether due to necessity or a thirst for fame or a personality disorder or all three — flock to the business.  The business is risky but rewarding.  And because it’s a new business and because there isn’t much money yet the business owners wing it.  Then the business grows and they’re still kind of winging it.  They look at their balance sheets and see that these protections cost money and reduce productivity.  Who wants that?  And so they skimp on safety.  They let coal miners work too many hours in that filthy air.  They let construction workers ascend high buildings without adequate restraints.  And they let fighters into a cage without a long term testing plan to ensure that they’re drug-free.
 

The solution could have been so simple.  Just require long term testing.  The moment you sign that contract, you become subject to random testing.  Healthy or hurt, you’re tested.  Training or at rest, doesn’t matter.  And when you sign there’s a ninety day probationary period before your first fight.  You piss hot in that first ninety days and that contract becomes null and void.
 

Yeah, people will complain.  I mean, who wants a bunch of slender, fit guys rolling around a cage when a hundred guys in the audience look like they could beat their ass?  It’s hypocritical.  The company owners don’t get tested.  The fans don’t get tested.  Same with the media.  Why am I getting tested?
 

And why should I be tested?  I feel better when I’m on the stuff.  I recover quicker from injuries, and that’s good for long term health.  I can train longer, and that keeps me from getting beat up during my fight.  I feel like I did when I was twenty.  Back when I could dodge half the punches and walk through the other half.  Plus I’m stronger.  I can control the guy across the cage from me and keep him from getting off a big punch.
 

It’s all bullshit.  Scientists take what nature has given us and they turn it into a chemical.  What’s more “organic” than that?  And if the scientists took it from nature and if the doctors tell me it helps and if I feel better when I’m playing this dangerous game, then why the fuck can’t I do it?
 

Wait a minute.
 

That doesn’t sound right.
 

Let me call my lawyer and get back to you.