The Rules Reconsidered: What Does It Mean? Give me a SEC

A humorous inquiry into college athletics acronyms--by a sports ignoramus

Oh the acronym.   How I hate thee.  Let me count the ways. 

I'll start with one for each acronym in existence, numerous as a nonagenarian's nose hairs.  

It was late December and I couldn't job (the exclusive benefit of breaking a bone), my arm having been fractured a few days before.  I was in a texting correspondence with a coworker, a fine young lady named the Macie. 

Me:  "Thanks for covering, Macie."

She:  "Ofc, I talked to the manager about me coming in for you if you need."  

Me:  "What does ofc mean?" 

She:  "Of course." 

Me:  "Of course." 

She:  "Lol."  

I was happy to know that one.  

Me:  "Anyway, I'm taking off from jobbing tomorrow." 

She:  "lmk if you need me to cover any of your shifts."  

Me:  "Imk?  In my knowledge?" 

She:  "I forget you're old.  Lol!"  

Clearly the girl has no will to live. 

She:  "It's let me know." 

Me:  "Not old just stupid.  Thanks!"  

Click.  

A few weeks later I was at my favorite hiding spot, Ye Olde Bull and Bush on Montgomery 76107, sipping spirits, when I decided to let a friend peruse my most recent Rules Reconsidered.  However, this time, the mirth usually attendant with his readings of my prose, the cackles and cachinnations, was altogether absent.  

"No good?" I asked the Bobby Stubbs (that being his name).

"No.  It's good."   

"Then why aren't you laughing!"  

"Because I don't understand it." 

"That's okay.  Neither do I!"  

"I mean, all these acronyms.  I don't know what they mean."  

"I know!  That's what I meant!"  

"Then how do you write this stuff?" -- only he didn't say stuff.  

"Simple.  I ignore it!"  

"So you don't know what SEC means either."  

"No clue."  

"Why do they need all these acronyms anyway?" 

"No clue."  

"Well, considering I don't understand any of it, it's good!" 

"Thanks, Bobby!" 

Cut ahead to yesterday, when I was writing a rather glowing article of the Damion Baugh entitled "The Golden Baugh," (a cute enough title, I think, and with the added benefit of being clear), I found myself in dire straits.  I had already exhausted the facts of Mr. Baugh's achievement, in so far as I could plagiarize anything at hand, and still required fifty words to my minimum word count.  Which entailed that I mention something about the game he had just played.  So I consulted the KillerFrogs Twitter page, at which point I was assaulted by what?  You guessed it!  

Acronyms.  

Double letters and triple letters without any enunciative potential.  And an occasional single letter in there--presumably just to be cute.  

Upon finishing my paean to the Baugh, I texted the Barry Lewis, letting the dear man know his requested article would publish on time. 

Me:  "The only thing is:  please check Baugh's stats.  I had to do some guess work as to which acronym meant what."  

Barry:  "Ok . . . Give me an example of an acronym you had to guess at."

Me:  "Well, PTS is Post-Traumatic Stress, obviously.  And I don't want to write that, lest it trigger my audience." 

The Barry Lewis had yet to reply when I continued: 

"I assume REB is Ripped Elbow and Back.  A is Ache.  FG?  Foot gout!  FT?  Fractured toe!  OR is Orthopedics and DR is DR."  

The Barry Lewis:  "A+ for effort.  PTS is points.  REB is rebound.  A is assist.  FG is field goal.  FT, free throw.  OR and DR are related to REB.  Offensive rebound and defensive rebound."  

"Thanks, Barry!"  

"Does that clarify everything?" 

"Not at all.  But I might get my word count."  

(I did).  

And why, dear reader, is this preface necessary?  

Because for three months I've been tasked with providing knowledgable analyses of sports with acronyms and abbreviations such as these (culled at random from a comprehensive list):  CC, CCAA, CCC, CCCAA, CCCBCA, CCCSIA, CCHA, CCU . . . and lest you think that a twisted rhyme scheme from the Marquis de Sade's more obscure writings, the aforementioned series comprises five college athletic associations, one conference, one conference champion and a university.  And they all have one thing in common:  I haven't a clue what any of them mean. 

So I would like to propose for future reference, out of sensitivity for people's time (after all, the whole point of an acronym/abbreviation is to save time, no?) and intelligence, that unless the acronym is absolutely one of universal recognition, such as NCAA (which, as we all know, refers to No Clothes At All--my favorite kind of institution), we take the time simply to spell the name out or pronounce it complete, depending on relevance. 

Following this pristine logic, from now on, TCU should be Texas Christian University, TB touch back, LT lettuce and tomato, MLB major league basketball, DB the Damion Baugh and RB ribs and brisket.  

It seems to me this alteration would clarify all things opaque.  

And I know, personally, the next time I am assaulted with a message that has a single acronym, my reply with be simple:  "TS;DR."   

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