This world is littered with mafia crews, no one can argue that. From sea to shining sea, gangs of criminals roam city blocks looking for legs to break and money to steal. There are more crews than we know what to do with, if the hundreds of open membership spaces are any indication. However, a startling investigation I have recently conducted has brought the character of the average family into question. An extensive period of research has revealed that while these families can often be seen doing an organized crime or two, not a single one is currently physically or structurally capable of becoming a professional sports organization, and the fact of the matter is none of them are even good at sports at all. 

Tasked with any manner of organized athletic exercise, these crews project to wind up meeting abject failure and, in some cases, grievous bodily harm. The reasons for this vary. Some crews are packed to the rafters with puny dorks, who obviously would not be good at sports. We can set these crews aside for the purpose of this study. Others are simply too heavy, weight-wise. One or two bigger guys is good, you'd need a whole offensive line if we're talking football, but you can't put a 300lb guy at running back and expect a lot of yardage. And this is before we even get to the short crews, who wouldn't be able to dunk a basketball if you put them on a step ladder. 

I narrowed the scope of my investigation down to husky-guy pseudo-sports like bowling, hoping to find a silver lining, but the results were still damning (ungood) at best. I shudder to think of the future of our business should we find our survival dependent on a World Cup-type situation; if you have ever found yourself somewhere poor, where barefooted children spend their childhoods kicking coconuts between mounds of burning tires, you would know we wouldn't stand a chance. 

Is there a future for a mafia that cannot run a triangle offense? To me, at least, it seems doubtful and I stand here today feeling both a deep despair and shame. 

Thank you for your time. 

Thats why only today, 3 of my members were called to play in their national team.

Yes, though bittersweet that one of us did not get the nod.  

What we need are taller, stronger, faster people with better senses of balance and superior hand-eye coordination. How can we achieve that? I'm not sure. Certainly not by doing what we've been doing up to now. Could it have something to do with the discontinuation of traditional subcrews? 

Constipated gets off the shitter after a huge dump and realizes he just used up the rest of his toilet paper. Not bad he thinks to himself. A roll of asswipe lasted him more than a sufficient amount of time. He heads out to the local corner store to purchase another roll of tp and just as he was ready to enter the store, he stops short. He hears two familiar voices. He checks out his surroundings and shakes his head and is baffled with what the fuck he is hearing. He had to listen further, so he decides to take a seat on the bench outside the store. He recognizes the voice of FourMenInSuits and his most trusted RH John_Fareham. Baffled even more that his RH would encourage or even support the questioning of his wise guy's thoughts was enough for Constipated to take the stage. He clears his throat so to be understood clearly. 

First off, no wise guy of mine is going to publicly call crews into question. Secondly, this big concern of yours concerning the wonderful world of sports riddled with your veiled nonsense leads me to ask which one of you two is the pitcher and who's the catcher? Now everyone knows it takes a great deal of practice in any area of sports. Practice means hard work and endless hours. Do either one of you live up to that? I say not.

You speak of sub crews. Let me enlighten you on how you put your foot in your mouth on that topic. In order for a sub crew to be successful, you need an insanely active crew. Now how is that possible when neither one of you are active? How is that possible when you insulted every crew leader lacking active mobsters?

Living a double standard is unacceptable in my operation. I have a crew to run not a clown show. John_Fareham, I am truly disappointed. 

A man who kills his own right-hand over a speech lamenting that wise guys can't dunk basketballs is a man whose coaching I can get behind. That's tough love. I've seen Fareham with a ball in his hands and he regularly overthrew his passes, though things flying over your head is an experience I somehow doubt you're unfamiliar with. 

Constipation shakes his head furiously, unclenches his fists and rubs his unshaven face in disbelief that a coward who my now deceased RH  John_Fareham employed, has the fucking audacity to announce he cannot get behind this man's coaching. 

This is a fucking joke to go down in history. I don't care how many fucking years this guy's kin surfed these shores. Nobody ever won a chess game by resigning. 

An extensive period of research has revealed that while these families can often be seen doing an organized crime or two, not a single one is currently physically or structurally capable of becoming a professional sports organization, and the fact of the matter is none of them are even good at sports at all. 

You've taken a speech that begins like that at such unconditional face value you've thought to yourself, 'This is a very serious discussion. My RH - who did not write this - needs to die for it', but the retirement of a gangster is a joke that will echo through eternity. Have you heard of the Marx brothers? I think your concept of comedy needs some recalibration. 

Honestly, I'm not offended by any of this. As someone who drinks a lot Bourbon and does a lot of chain smoking, I'm aware of my inability to perform at the highest level of any sport. Sure I can probably catch up to the guy who picked my pockets and beat them to a bloody pulp but no way can I go to distance in a professional boxing match. I think a broad solution to this would be very simple. Business districts need more gyms, less bars and restaurants. Perhaps it's not the discontinuation of traditional sub-crews as it is the discontinuation of business district managers.

Constipated heard the cries of yet another coward. He shrugged it off thinking cowardness could run in the blood. Some say it's from eating too many hotdogs. But he found that deduction to be in layman's terms, quite silly, yet not impossible. And at the same time in comprehensible. On the realistic side of his world where he operated his business, on what is well known as these shores, has suddenly been labeled or rather renamed as the stadium. Or is it a field of some sort? Maybe a gym? Who the fuck knows at this point as his head spins? He realizes without a shadow of a doubt he is not in awe. He takes pity instead. 

Constipated takes himself back to his headquarters to address the facts of life. He duly notes what needs to be said to his faithful. 

John, please do talk about your father. A man I entrusted. And stated as much on these shores. I do not deny and will not deny. However, your father made a critical mistake as my RH supporting the insults of your dear friend FourMenInSuits. Then taking it a step further when your father had the audacity to talk and suggest on a topic that has been proven to be an utter failure on these shores. 

You obviously have more time to dispute the recent outcome of your father than the time he had as my RH. What type of sport is that called? 

Who was insulted, exactly?  Constipated - dude, you made a mistake.  You killed your RH needlessly, and pointlessly.

You read the situation totally incorrectly.

john, chicago just likes to be mediocre and kill off people with aspirations NBD

Enzo heard all the chatter from this speech but looked very confused. Taking a drag from his cig and releasing the smoke from his nose as he looked around. 

"Am I the only one lost here?"

"Ah I see now, I wasn't quite sure what sporting had to do with Mafia, but okay. Thank you, John." 

Enzo nodded his head before stepping back into the shadows disappearing. 

With every moment that passes, this speech seems more prescient than ever. RIP to the fallen. If anyone would like to learn how to spin a basketball on their index finger, there is still time. 

There are more crews than we know what to do with, if the hundreds of open membership spaces are any indication

Possibly if you stop running bloodlines away from these shores these empty spaces may have the bodies to fill them.