When Hope Solo is on the TV, I’m watching, but that’s because I think she’s hot. When Hope Solo is taking or writing or tweeting or freaking out about something that nobody else cares about, I’m not paying attention, because she’s an idiot.
Why does she think that everybody really, really cares what’s going on behind the scenes of the women’s national soccer team? Are we that soccer crazy all of a sudden that we need to go out and drop $20 on an autobiography of the team’s goalkeeper that also features such exciting topics as her time on Dancing with the Stars and her trip to Malaysia? Holy s***, it sounds like elementary school recess. It’s just a book of gossip.
And I love gossip, if it’s something that’s relevant or meaningful. I’ve read both ESPN books, I’m working my way through the Mickey Mantle biography by Jane Leavy right now and I’ve ready countless other books along the same line. I love to know the background of these people and what their stories are.
But those topics/people are interesting. Hope Solo is not. If Hope Solo released a bikini calendar, I would probably purchase it (or simply find the pictures online, but you get the point). I don’t care when Hope Solo freaks out because she was benched, or she exaggerates some story about the U.S. coach getting intense with her. I don’t care about how she hates Brandi Chastain for no logical reason other then she wants to stir up controversy and be a you-know-what. Chill the eff out Hope.
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If this book becomes a best seller, I’ll personally go Hope Solo’s house and apologize (hmmm…). I’ve got my doubts, though. We’re all smart enough not to want to buy a book by an “edgy” goaltender that is solely a money grab and details a bunch of uninteresting, unnecessary, irrelevant points.