Mumford and Sons had just won the Grammy for Album of the Year for their hit folk rock album, Babel. Gregg Popovich sat in San Antonio on his leather L-shaped couch and scratched his head with his Cheeto stained fingers. The fireplace was crackling and popping and he was irritated.
“Mumford and Sons?” he asked the empty living room, “Come on.”
He threw the half empty bag of Cheetos at the television. His pug, Admiral, eats what flew out of the bag.
Popovich had loved Blunderbuss and El Camino and Channel Orange. He really wanted anyone to win but Mumford.
“Just sounds like a bigger version of that first one they put out,” he’d told Sean Elliot earlier in the day.
He’d lost his mind when Jack White had performed earlier in the show and, even though he’d been a little off, still felt Frank Oceans’ performance had some testicular fortitude behind it. He dug the leather jackets The Black Keys wore. It was these quote, “Herringboned out British banjo hacks”, unquote, he had no time for.
Matt Bonner had tried to play Holland Road on the locker room sound system before a game in December and Popovich almost killed him. He lifted him up off the ground, holding him by his collar. He held him in the air for fifteen seconds, unleashing a barrage of insults upon Bonner and the band so volatile Patty Mills had to cover Tiago Splitter’s ears.
Ultimately, Popovich just felt the Grammy’s missed the ball. Blunderbuss was true rock and roll. Frank Ocean’s album was inventive and new and different and mattered. Babel just seemed like a repeat of what they’d already done. Fine stuff, sure, but not Album of the Year.
What was with that stand up bass player and his Neil Young hat, he’d asked Mike Brown in an email.
Why would those other three dudes, all of which are clearly anti-showers, agree to be cool with being Mumford’s “Sons”, he’d texted Avery Johnson.
You know that main one wears hoop earrings like Jordan wears, he’d G-chatted Mario Ellie.
He just didn’t get it. He called his friend Craig Sager.
“Why’s all these Brits coming over and taking our awards, C? Where’s our American champions at? Lord know’s I’m a proponent of the United Nations way of thinking more than probably anybody in the league, but I want the Stars and Stripes getting some love come awards season. I mean, have you even heard Thinkin Bout You? That song’s incredible. Me and my wife have made love to that song upwards of fifty times since that album came out. I gotta go. I need to blog about this.”
Popovich went to bed early, punching pillows and gritting his teeth, listening to Frank Ocean croon to him about super rich kids with nothing but loose ends.