Obama Controls the Ball

Posted on May 2, 2012 by

If you hate sports analogies applied to politics stop reading now.

Or bear with me as I unload some of the most obvious clichés “right off the bat.”

On Obama’s aggressive start and early lead in the 2012 election, it’s apparent that campaign operatives are looking for an early “knockout” of their opponent.

Determined to “control the ball” (define the debate), the president wants to force Romney to “play catch up.”

This could lead the inept republican “to fumble.”

At the very least, by “taking time off the clock,” Obama reduces the chance for a “late inning comeback” by republicans.

And there you have it.

Scrambling baseball, boxing, basketball and football, we’ve managed to completely abuse the sports / politics metaphor in just a few sentences or “right out of the gate” (we can’t forget horse racing).

So what’s next on the metaphorical agenda?

The ultimate battle:

Politics as warfare.

Comments (3)


  1. Don West says:

    I would rather read your analysis of yesterday’s Afghanistan speech, which I thought he “knocked out of the park.”

  2. Eamon says:

    Let’s hope its not a “game of two halves”, with Romney coming in to his own in the second half of the campaign.

  3. John Connolly says:

    “Obama Ropes-th’-Dope Romney in Main Event”;
    Phoney Marquis of Queensbury Plutocrat
    Crumbles to the Canvas at First Punch;
    ‘I Wuz Wobbed!’ Whines Windbag Willard –
    All in Bain — er VAIN — For The Fix is In:
    Nasty Newt Pulls Stool From Under Pummeled Pol;
    Cranky Cornerman Crows: ‘A Calcified Catholic
    Can Take Down a Mummified Mormon any Day!’;
    Chubby Charlatan Catches Mitt as
    Snarky Santorum Turns Double Cross to Double Play;
    Bachman to Backstop The Boys,
    As Ayn Rand Fan Runty Ron Paul Stands Tall;
    And Herman Cain Fain Be Bane of Barack Hussein,
    Again, all in Vain, as Nom will be Rom.

    But Back at Bout’s End Wilt Ol’ Mitt
    Dazed and Confused, Battered by Barack,
    Down for The Count, Sans Wit,
    Punch-Drunk on Mountain Dew and Cauliflower,
    Be Led, Mewling Still, by Peevish Perry
    Down Under that Gilded Bridge and Tower
    Where, with Faux-Friends, Foul-Feathered or Furry,
    All Entitled Trolls Do Live Out Their Last,
    Gorging Gluttons of The Nation’s Past,
    Lolling on Lucre and Burning Tide,
    Excreting Ghoulish Futures, They Bitterly Abide,
    Still Gnawing on Our History’s Bones,
    Their Day of Vengeance, Their Game of Thrones.

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