The Problem With HBO's "Hard Knocks"

I know you're wondering what beef I could possibly have with this acclaimed series about the Kansas City Chiefs training camp.

Well, it's all summed up in their poster for the show.

What's that say to you? A player who's intense, forbidding, dangerous, anonymous.

The enemy.

Just like a football player who's not on your team is supposed to be.

But what does Hard Knocks deliver?

What the hell?

This show is like watching Letters from Iwo Jima right before World War II starts.

I don't want to know that Herm Edwards is the coolest guy ever with an awesome wife or that Brody Croyle is a newlywed with a friggin' puppy (and speaking of puppies, how about the ones on Mrs. Croyle?) or that Damon Huard has three adorable kids.

I don't want to root for Boomer to fight through the pain and prevail, or worry that Tank has sleep apnea, or stress that Bobby and Justin aren't going to make the cut.

At this point in the year, my only interest should be seeing some group of players collectively called the Chiefs crushed and left in a bloody heap on the sideline.

But thanks to Hard Knocks, it's just days before opening kickoff and I actually went to the Chiefs website to check if Bobby Sippio made the team.

He did? Sweet!

Damn you, HBO.