Sunday, October 28, 2007
That shit hurt me just watching. I haven't seen a raping like that since "American History X." Joe Gibbs' underwear is going to have small blood stains in them from the ripping of the anal walls. Jason Campbell is going to wake up to nightmares of Mike Vrabel fucking his grandmother and forcing her to fumble.
I honestly thought that, with this mega-matchup with the Colts next week, we could slip into New England, blitz Tom Brady, stuff their injured run game and squeek out a 20-17 win. 50 points? Did they punt once with their starters in? Even their freaking backup QB who never played in college scored on us ! Thank God Chris Cooley scored, because a shut-out like that can destroy the pysche of a team quicker than Bill Belichek shat on Al Saunders' face.
Jesus is Joe Gibbs' homeboy, though, and gives us the hopeless Jets at home next week. One AFC East team pisses in our mouth at home, now we get to fart in anothers in our house. Roger Goodell is just.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Friday, October 19, 2007
I gaurantee you at times, half the players thought he was just taking a nap. Those pinstripes look like pajamas on him, and it makes sense, since the motherfucking idiot slept more than inspired.
Greatest manager ever? ... Not even close. Not even close to greatest Yankee manager ever. Not even close to greatest manager named "Joe." Not even close to greatest Italian manager. Not even close to greatest manager who used 9/11 and Rudy Guiliani to sell a shitty book I got for Christmas one year ...
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Sunday, August 12, 2007
And he won, too! Half the ring was surrounded by serious NFL talent (including the incomparable Reggie White, Carl Banks and others) , the other by serious WWF talent (including the incomparable Tatanka, Ted DiBiase and others).
God I miss my childhood.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Barry Bonds WILL NOT Break Hank Aaron's Home Run Record ... Ever!
The Ridiculous Situation :
Barry Lamar Bonds will, in front of Commissioner Bud Selig, injure himself severely enough to cause him to miss roughly half the remainder of the season.
For fear of being booed as a visitor in a ball park, Bonds will intentionally not hit any home runs on the road.
However, at home, Bonds will get no pitching. He'll be intentionally walked one out of every three at-bats, and in the other two, will receive roughly one hittable pitch. (The Giants will still lose, despite his on-base percentage swelling.) After the season, Bonds will be indicted on Federal charges and go to prison, for a long, long time. He will end this season, and his career, short of Hammerin' Hank's record.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Chris Benoit. Adam "Pac-Man" Jones. Michael Vick. NBA referee Tim Donaghy. Barry Lamar Bonds. Jason Giambi. Chris Henry. Tank Johnson.
You may be asking yourself, Richie K., you can't seriously be thinking these guys don't deserve the fines, the jail-time, the public ridicule? Right? Damn right I am.
I'll break it down case by case for you.
CHRIS BENOIT - OK, the guy was a 'roid-machine. But he was a loving father, a wonderful husband and a phenomenal wrester. (Those multiple German suplexes were as exciting a move as the sport has seen ...) But he had a bad day. You've never had a bad day? Everyone has had bad days! Chris Benoit had one bad day, and you people crucify him for it. He was on the cover of People magazine, for Vince McMahon's sake! OK, he killed his wife, his kid and himself. OK, his body was so full of illegal substances there's a good chance a bunch of crackheads dug up his body and tried to smoke him. Whatever, man. I've had bad days, you've had bad days, Jesus has had bad days ... They happen. Who are we to pass judgement on the severity of those bad days? Just chalk them up to experience and move on ...
ADAM "PAC-MAN" JONES - He loves strippers. Who doesn't? I do. Any American male should. Most men around the world, with the exception of those crazy Muslim assholes who make women wear sheets and crap from head to toe, love strippers. He throws around lots of money, and makes other men jealous. He's named after a legendary video game icon! How can you hate this guy?
OK, maybe he shot someone. Maybe he was responsible for a few riots ... Those happen all the time. How do you know it wasn't chance? And growing up in West Virginia, what the hell else is there to do but start some trouble every now and again? Don't hate the Pac-Man, hate the game. All he needs to do is find his Mrs. Pac-Man and settle down anyway ... He cut his hair. He took out a full page ad swearing to the people of Tennessee he'd change his ways. What more do you want from the guy? He literally gives money to young women in exchange for nothing more than a quick glimpse at their vagina and/or breasts. Most of them are young, single mothers. That's as charitable an act as Bono has ever done ...
NBA REFEREE TIM DONAGHY - He bet on games. Is that so terrible? Yes, he has a job where he has a great way to alter those games, but let me just point out one thing to you: Tim Donaghy is white. White men in the game of basketball are never to be questioned, simply respected, feared and occasionally asked to participate in 3-point contests. The NBA pays their referees a small price, considering you ask them to call fouls on huge men in the midst of battle. Shaq would kill this guy. Artest would snap his neck. Sprewell would choke him. Rasheed would ... do something weird. What's wrong with trying to earn a little something on the side? All the NFL's umpires and refs have day jobs. Tim Donaghy needs to feed his children Alpo so he can drive that fancy car to the stadium? I SAY NO, SIR!
BARRY BONDS - This is the easiest case there is. He denies taking steroids. Fine. But even if he did ... THEY WEREN'T ILLEGAL IN THE GAME OF BASEBALL AT THE TIME! Barry Bonds was playing by the rules. He did nothing illegal. He found an edge, and he stuck that edge into his ass. His head swelled, his balls shrank and he doubled in size from his Pirate days. His amazing moustache fell out, as did his semi-'fro. He's paid the price for his greatness. Now that steroids are finally illegal in pro baseball, he no longer takes them. So, Bud Selig, get your ass to that stadium as he claims one of the most prestigious records in pro sports. Hank Aaron, buy yourself a walker and watch as Barry Bonds breaks your record. Support your fellow African-American man as you claimed no one did as you broke the record. Your death threats weren't anything compared to the thought of this great record falling and big, fake needles pelting him as he rounds the bases ... He did nothing wrong. Lay off Barry Lamar!
MICHAEL VICK - This one is a little complicated, because I am a cat-lover, too. Dogs are just dirty, annoying things God put on this planet to fetch slippers, eat grass and entertain us with their fighting. Vick is an athlete with moves that break ankles, an arm that defies logic and a brain the third the size of most adults. His family took advantage of him! We all know his little brother is an idiot. Chances are, he has no clue who his real father is. More than likely, he's got cousins he doesn't even know about; and when you become a pro athlete, those hands stretch a little longer into your pockets, but that is the price you pay for your talent! Those things happen when you have shoes with your name on them!
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Friday, March 23, 2007
So after two unsuccessful years at Duke, Josh McRoberts is going to try his luck in the NBA. He's following a long and successful tradition of Duke guys leaving early to get into the League ...
Here is what I don't get. Why leave a college basketball scene where you are borderline dominant, an icon on campus and a chance for a national championship for mid-level dollars and the title of "role player" for the rest of your career.
There is no shot he's a star in the NBA. (See: Shavlik Randolph, Cherokee Parks, Chris Carrawell, William Avery, JJ Redick, Trajan Langdon) He could be a starter for a weaker team with a me-first point guard, and hope he gets enough offensive boards and put-backs to warrant a roster spot for the next season. But Shaq will abuse him. Amare will abuse him. Oden will abuse him. Garnett will abuse him. Yao will abuse him. Hell, Michael Oliwakandi will abuse this guy ...
The sad thing is, Duke would've returned all five starters - something that personally scared the shit out of me - and been a top-10 team. Now? They'll rely even more on a shaky shooter and a weak ball-handler, and will get absolutely dominated by Tyler Hansbrough and UNC for the next two years - unless Gerald Henderson takes the next step and just shoots him in the face or something.
Best of luck to you, though, Josh. Seriously. Here's hoping Laettner buys a team so he can draft you, trade for Redick and Shav and assemble a true dynasty in the NBA. Get yourself a double-wide, kid; you earned !
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
For real, though, I got some serious shit to talk about, and his name is Kevin Durant. You know, Kevin "I'm Not in the Sweet Sixteen" Durant. That guy. That guy that's fucking with my motherfucking NBA money. The Celtics got fined for calling him? Why? They need a dark toothpick? I was rooting for Texas; I really was. I wanted them to get into the Final Four so I could show the world who deserves that money, playboy. I'm playing with one hand! Do you not understand that shit? Durant, seriously, give me player of the year trophy, bro, and you won't get hurt. Did you see the foul I put on that fool against Xavier?
You wanna know why the O did that? Because he could. I could snap my fingers and cause a tsunami in Asia. I could flap my arms and fly around the world, shitting on people I didn't like. I could dunk on Jesus Christ - in Heaven - with four fouls on me. The world is mine. They're re-naming the school The O-Den State University. The mascot will be a scaled-down replica of my hand - so it'll fit in the building - and it will just stand there, staring at you the whole game. Whoever is lucky enough to be in that costume will get more ass than Kevin Durant, Tyler Hansbrough and whoever that white dude from Pitt is combined. MY HAND, SON! MY HAND!
I wish someone would build a time machine. I saw this movie, "Back to the Future," and I didn't get it because I don't know how you can go back to the future, if the future is in front of you ... But anyway, that's not the point. I need one of them cars, on 26's, so I can go back and dunk on Kareem, block Bill Russell's shot and just abuse Bill Walton in the post. Wilt the Stilt? He gonna need crutches when I get done with him. Shaq is my boy (I loved "Kazaam!") but for real, he best retire before I spin past him in the lane and cross his eyes; dude'll look like Stuart Scott and Rebecca Lobo had a baby when I'm done with him.
Elite Eight is up next. Do you get CBS, Durant? I may eat a Longhorn for dinner before the game. No, not AT Longhorn's. I'm going to eat A Longhorn. With some corn on the cob, bitches.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Monday, February 12, 2007
Now the news has broke on ESPN and all the other sources that Head Coach Andy Reid has taken a leave of abscense from his Eagles until mid-March. He didn't name any reasons for this leave, but you can bet it has a lot to do with his children being about as out of control as is humanly possible. Garrett and Britt Reid have - seperately - been charged with numerous drug and traffic violations, assaults, etc.
That isn't the big news; this is.
Our anonymous source has informed us that - through a female high school friend who has engaged in sexual intercourse with Britt Reid - Britt Reid has his Johnson pierced.
Oh yeah; we went there. But that's just the start.
The two went to Harriton High School together - a preppy little school right outside of Philly - and our source has also told us after a party, where the young Reid was engaged in lots of underage alcohol consumption and drug use, decided it best for him to drive home from the party. Reid then backed into a friends car, smashing the hood, drove down the block only to be stopped by the police. Reid then tried to bribe the police officer with - this is my favorite part (besides the fact his dick is pierced) - autographed pictures of his dad, which he keeps in his glove box; obviously for situations just like this.
It seems the fuzz in Philly are overloaded with Andy's signed picture, and now they're actually charging the kids ...
What a city.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Notice how I didn’t call you Rexxxtasy or something pornographic like that? You know why? Class. I’ve got it, and you, my friend, do not. I drink port, you drink alcohol that came from the ports of San Juan. My girlfriends have included starlets and supermodels, whereas yours have included Brandi from Pensacola and Heather from Skokie. Way to go. I attended the University of Michigan, a university whose business school was ranked best in the nation by the Wall Street Journal (that’s a prestigious newspaper, by the way), whereas you attended the University of Florida, a school of champions, albeit not while you were there, but frankly a school where the average SAT rivals your quarterback rating against the Packers.
Do not continue to offend me, Mr. Grossman. While having sex with Gisele, I am oftentimes sickened by your actions. You are not “The Sex Cannon.” I am. I walk into bars and women immediately wet their pants. Think about that, Mr. Grossman. You walk into bars to get drunk; I don’t walk into bars so much as I walk directly into wet panties. It’s like the doorway is full of them, and I walk directly into them. Picture that, Mr. Grossman. I do sincerely apologize for the vulgarity of that statement, but I felt it necessary to prove my point. Often, when I am involved with a beautiful woman, such as the starlets and supermodels I share with people such as Leo DiCaprio and Derek Jeter, I like to wear my three Super Bowl rings, and admire them as any true champion would. Then I continue to last for hours on end. Again, I remind you, these are the most beautiful women in the world, not sorority girls from the Chi Omega house in Gainesville.
A final point, my dear friend. Perhaps, if you weren’t so busy attempting to be the next great western gunslinger (I refuse to even use any other word you use to describe yourself ending in “slinger”) you would realize that in fact, women most prefer the man with the rings who isn’t afraid to show off his sensitive side and dump the ball off. At that point, maybe, just maybe, my girlfriend Gisele could get you one of her friend’s phone numbers. Until then, however, Mr. Grossman, enjoy the pleasures of the women of Wrigleyville. You may think you’re special for merely MAKING ONE Super Bowl, but my good friend Peyton will likely wipe the floor with you. I have to cut this letter short; my Merrill Lynch stock just bought me my fifth Rolls Royce and I have to go pick it up.
Yours in Football,
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Oh shit, time for class. "TV." Shit is hard, yo.
Naw, I ain't goin'. I gotta start thinking of names for my mansion. I looked at some real estate in Philly; Iverson's house is OK ... For my garage. I'm going to have to build something fly enough to be called the O-Den. That's what I'm gonna call my house, at least when "Cribs" comes to film ... I'm gonna get a kick ass pet, too. Maybe a ... snake? Fuck snakes. I already got a negro anaconda in these shorts. What about a giraffe? No; too Michael Jackson ... Hows about a gorilla? Maybe ... Oh, shit. Oden, you da' man. I'm gonna get me an ALBINO GORILLA! Name that mo'fucker something scary, too. Call that thing Ewing. Teach it to ball, son. A fuckin' dunking albino gorilla. Shit would be the bomb, boy.
WTF? This dude on ESPN just said I should stay in school for four years. The only reason I'd even think about that shit is the new freshmen honeys comin' in every fall ... What? Fool said Josh McRoberts is going to be a better big man in the long-run because he's got "smart moves" in the post. That honky motherfucker can't hold me. March Madness comes around I'm going to dunk on him 17 times, block a dozen of his shots and fuck his girl. Oh wait, she's probably ass-ugly. That's why I told Coach K no. I said Coach, you got a nice program, but shit; them girls is lookin' like the Elephant Man or some shit. You find nicer girls working at Burger King, man. Plus I couldn't shit on Ohio like that. Gots to get Buckeye Basketball on the map, son! Make these peeps forget LeBron. It's all about the O. But for real, being the O isn't that great right now ...
Being a freshmen sucks ball, yo. Dick Vitale called me a diaper dandy, but for real, I'd rather be a senior dandy and have a fucking car on campus. A Bentley. That'd be sick. Drive to classes in my Phantom. On 24's, bitch. Roll to practice watching "Scarface" on DVD on my 15 monitors. That'd be the shit like Taco Bell, son. Sucks, though. I gotta walk my ass to 7-11 now. I need some condoms like whoa! Magnum XXXL's, you know how the Big O slays it. But yo, I gots to wrap it up. Can't be having none of these white bitches chasing me around the NBA wantin' money for some kid I don't even know is mine ... Gotta bring me the DNA test, yo. That or they gotta be 7'1'' and have a full beard in 5th grade like me. I used to dunk on cats in Kindergarten. Gettin' head behind the swingset in 1st grade ... Yo, little Greg used to beat that pussy up while he watched "Power Rangers." Oh shit; speaking of that ... I gotta buy me one of those suits they wore. I always dug that black dude. He had some wild ass hair, though. Shit, that fool isn't doing anything. I'm gonna buy that dude, make him run around my house fighting Ewing. Shit would be awesome for parties. Pop some Dom P and watch that cat rumble with an albino gorilla all night ... God I love my life.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Growing up in Connecticut, I was always strangely a Denver Broncos fan. They were my only team that wasn’t local (the Red Sox, Whalers, and Uconn being the other teams to which I claimed undying allegiance to). The Patriots were an afterthought my parents rooted for despite being mired in the Dick MacPherson-Hugh Millen years. John Elway was my Jesus, and I worshipped at his temple every fall Sunday. When the Broncos played the Pats, it was an excuse to rip on my parents as Elway, Shannon Sharpe, TD, and co. beat them silly.
Then, in 1999, the Patriots were supposed to move to Hartford. Bob Kraft even signed a deal with the mayor of Hartford and governor of Connecticut to move the team to a new, downtown stadium. Then, out of the blue, he reneged and scurried back to Foxboro. I had debated where my loyalties would lie if they had moved to Hartford, but decided to remain steadfast to the Broncs. This treason made it all the easier to hate the Bledsoe-Pete Carroll era Patriots.
Soon, things changed, and I went to college in New Jersey, surrounded by the typical New York-New Jersey area Yankees fans. A diehard Sox fan (more so than of any other team), I was their foil: a loudmouthed, obnoxious Red Sox fan singing the praises of Manny, Pedro, and yes, Johnny D. Naturally, it was assumed I was a Pats fan. Well, of course, at this point the Sox hadn’t won a title, the Whalers hadn’t existed in five years, and Uconn didn’t really matter, seeing as we were all matriculating at a small D III school. Needless to say, most people didn’t quite understand the Broncos thing, given that I had to admit I had never been in the state once in my life and knew no one from there. I realized two things. First was that saying I was a Patriots fan to people was a whole lot easier than explaining that no, I’ve been a Broncos fan since I was four, despite any rational reason why. Secondly was that, well, I really respected the way the Brady-Belichick Pats played the game, especially after Super Bowl XXXVI.
I played high school football for an old school, tough, Italian coach who implored us to play the game the right way. Selflessness, and an all for one mentality were valued above all else. Everyone should know their role, play their hardest, and do their job, no questions asked. Amazingly, I found those qualities in the team I had been trying my hardest to despise in light of their owner screwing over my hometown. It was as though I had just realized that the girl who lived next door all my life was my dream girl. Of course, I still felt conflicted, especially as the Broncos recovered from their post-Elway malaise and came to rival the Patriots. To this very moment, when the two teams play, I feel wholly conflicted in a way a parent must when they watch siblings compete against each other (sure you’re guaranteed a winner, but also a loser).
This season represented for me a pinnacle in inner torment. I now live in New York’s unofficial “Sixth Borough,” Hoboken, NJ, a town with a large influx of New Englanders, and a much smaller population of transplanted Coloradans. I work in an office full of the same Yankees, Giants, and Jets fans that surrounded me in college. Since I started in July, needless to say, people here came to quickly know me as the department’s newest and perhaps most obnoxious Red Sox fan. Once again, as NFL season hit, I realized it was difficult to explain the whole Broncos thing. Now that we’re in the playoffs (and that the Pats dispatched of the Jets, no less), I realized, that frankly, it’s easier to just go with it. I even finally sucked it up, and asked for (and received) a hat with one of the cooler logos of all, time, Patriot Pat, which I’m now wearing with regularity over my standard Red Sox hat.
I don’t expect that everyone feels it’s kosher to have two teams. I understand. I took heat in college when I started to root for the Pats on a more vocal level. My co-blogger even called me “fair-weather” this weekend. That’s fine. It’s not that I ever expected this to happen. If you had told me in 1999 that I’d seriously while in New Jersey, no less, be growing into a Patriots fan, I’d have laughed my ass off. But, the allure of the Patriots, my local team, a true team, is proving strong. I still like the Broncos, don’t get me wrong, but as I grow older and wiser, perhaps I’m seeing the error of my ways. The girl next door keeps looking better and better.
Monday, January 15, 2007
First, others receiving votes: Any offensive lineman (guaranteed a great meal, if you can get any food, that is), Emeka Okafor (a night of intellectual conversation, I’m sure), James Laurinitis (When your dad was “The Animal” you know you’ll get some stellar stories), Maria Sharapova (um, duh), Ben Roethlisberger (the conversation goes, You: “dude you should totally try and jump off the bar and onto the pool table 25 feet away,” Him: “hell yeah man, I’m gonna do it!” and then the fun ensues), Michael Irvin (hey, he’d hide your hashpipe, which is pretty cool), Mark Cuban (He’d make stalking college girls seem somehow not awkward).
10. Tank Johnson. Sure, there’s always the risk of getting capped in the ass, but you know if it happens (or when, as your viewpoint may be), you got enough ammos to take over Basra. And that, my friends, is peace of mind.
8. Daniel Snyder. Not only could he buy you anything you asked for, but you could hang out with celebrities like Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes, and try and figure out exactly what the fuck is going through their heads. You’d go to some reallllly nice place, have a $75 plate of duck and a $1000 bottle of red, then go pick up strippers. At least, this is how I picture what I’d do if I were filthy rich…
Mike Tyson. Ever have a night where you and your friends don’t have any definite plan and just want to see where the night goes? Well, if your friend was Mike Tyson, odds are it would end up with cocaine, booze, strippers, Mitch Green, BJ’s all around, and Heidi Fleiss. And that’s a helluva time.
5. Nate Newton. One word: spliff.
4. John Daly. You just know you’d end up at some redneck bar, smoking Marlboro Reds and sucking down Jim Beam while watching fat redneck chicks with eight teeth throw themselves at Daly. Of course, the next morning, when you wake up next to Daly’s leftovers might be a little painful. Perhaps he wouldn’t be as much fun as hanging out with Newton…
2. USC songgirls. Because no one wants to hang out with a bunch of attractive, promiscuous coeds, I guess I’ll fall on the sword, take one for the team, and escort them out for a night in a sunny LA. The things I do for blogging.
And this brings us to the coolest athletes in town, the guys you know you’re a guaranteed a memorable time with…your 2006 Cincinnati Bengals!
Things that are guaranteed to happen:
· Massive drinking
· Drug use
· Domestic violence
· Fun with cops
· Gun possession (albeit not at Tank Johnson levels)
· The chance to meet NFL commissioner Roger Goodell
All good clean fun, hence why the Bengals are number one in something, finally. Really, there’s no chance this wouldn’t end well.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
10. Eli Manning. His stats aren’t terrible, and the Giants made the playoffs, but when you’re a fought over #1 pick in his third year starting, well, you ought to not be a weekly emotional question mark. I know Philip Rivers has struggled recently, but yeah, just a little bit of a difference…
9. The Seahawks. Like Eli, Shaun Alexander, Matt Hasselbeck and co. are playing in January, but they won’t be marching in like they were last year. I know they’ve been banged up, but the loss to San Fran was just…terrible. It really does make me question if this team won’t lose to the Bears by 37 should they play.
8. The ‘Skins. All I heard this summer was, Joe Gibbs is gonna be able to take this team with all these weapons and a solid D deep into the playoffs because he’s such a great coach and has all these weapons. Well, ahem, co-blogger, that hasn’t exactly happened now has it? Now they’re out of the playoffs, starting the backup, have a coach who looks just like an old man, and hell, I haven’t even heard of a good Clinton Portis outfit in weeks!
7. The Cardinals. They are who they always have been! I think Edgerrin James kind of wishes he went to a team that had, you know, an offensive line. At least Matt Leinart became a Dad. I’m sure he can take solace in that and the amount of grade-A poontang he gets to bury his face in every day. Otherwise this chic NFC West pick has been a disgrace to what is apparently an awesome stadium.
6. Daunte Culpepper and the Dolphins. I couldn’t really separate one from the other. Remember the preseason hype for these guys? It was, “they finished so well and now they have a former all-pro at QB.” Well, guess what? Apparently Daunte spent a few too many days on Lake Okeechobee because they started ice cold, and he got benched for Joey Freaking Harrington. At least they sort of re-created a strong end of season run again; I can’t wait for them to be predicted to win the Super Bowl again next August. They should bring back Shula.
5. Jon Gruden. Wasn’t this guys supposed to be a boy genius? Christ, I don’t care if you have to start Bruce Gradkowski, if you’re so damn smart, you can do better than 4-12. At least he still has his spleen, though.
4. The Steelers. They lost two key components of their championship team in The Bus and Randle-El, and they weren’t exactly the most dominant champion ever, and, of course, Ben Roethlisberger decided to test how many lives he has, and yeah, they are now .500, but still, defending champs aren’t supposed to be 8-8. Their season really does remind however of the Patriots 2002 season where they finished 9-7 but then the dynasty rolled on.
3. Jake Plummer. Teams with championship aspirations shouldn’t ever have to bench the starting QB. I mean, hell, even Trent Dilfer held his job. Yet, here the Broncos find themselves. I remember a Bill Simmons column last year where he compared Plummer’s revival year to Rich Gannon’s career. Well, needless to say whereas Gannon late in his career became an MVP, Plummer finds himself on the path to clipboard-dom. Too bad; his beard last year was pretty kickass.
2. Randy Moss. Has any player ever suffered a more precipitous decline in fantasy value? I mean, wasn’t it just like three seasons ago that he was the only receiver you’d consider as a 1st round pick? Now, granted Zack Braff’s retarded quarterback character from “Garden State” is likely better than the Brooks/Walter combo in Oakland, but still, Moss has basically admitted to not giving a shit while on the field. Way to go Randy.
1. The Panthers. Sigh, I too bought into these guys. I really liked them, especially with DeAngelo Williams. Instead, they’re out of the playoffs again. Oh well. I’m not bitter just because they ruined both my preseason picks and my weekly picks, nah, not at all. Damn you to hell John Fox!!!
Now, we’re going back to banging moms. Stay tuned.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
That's many things. It's the height of tallest girl I'll have sex with. It's the 11th day of May. It's San Francisco's area code. It is NOT the record my Washington Redskins should be ending a season with. Maybe the Arizona Cardinals. Maybe the Cleveland Browns. Maybe the Houston Texans. But NOT the Washington Redskins. So what went wrong?
We started a Rogaine model (Mark Brunell) at QB for far too long, while I sat on my couch screaming and punching myself in the testicles hoping through some cosmic force, Joe Gibbs would feel my pain and put in the future, Jason Campbell. He did. When we were all but out of the playoff chase. Clinton Portis - running back, interview guru, Flavor Flav's sloppy seconds - seperates his shoulder in the pre-season showing the defense how to make a tackle. They didn't watch closely enough, as they blew more tackles than the fat chick at the club when the NFLers come in on Sunday night. Our pass rush was actually sickening to watch. I threw up chili on my John Riggins jersey watching them flail around like seizuring special ed. students versus every NFC East team. The secondary is either too old or too young.
You want solutions?
Start with the talent on the team already. It's there. Two vastly different, very talented WRs, with the best slot guy/return guy/trick-play guy in the game - Indiana QB Antwaan Randle El - will help Campbell take the next step. His tight end, Chris Cooley, is going to make a few Pro Bowls down the road; the guy can catch, run and block from several positions on the field, plus his hair is just amazing. Plus, he's got that last name that sounds like people are booing, but they're really saying COOOOOOOOley. Kinda like DUUUUUUUUUUUUUCE. Or ... BOOOOOOOOOOO Williams. I like those kind of players. And with that talent, the ball needs to be in the air more than it was this season. The capability for a truly balance offense is there, when you take a look at the running game; featuring Ladell Betts - who boggled my mind this season with his tenacity - and CP. The smart play here? Go wish-bone, Gibbs. OLD SCHOOL! Get them both out there. Put Cooley in front, and Betts and Portis behind him; move Cooley around, move Portis around; go to a strong set, an I set, whatever; but those guys both need to see time. They're both getting paid like starters, anyway. Start 'em.
Defensively, the talent is there, and showed it at times. But a big-time pass-rush is needed, more consistent play from the DT position and Gregg Williams and his bloated salary need to teach someone how the hell to tackle. And knock down a pass. Force a few turnovers. This guy gets paid like a head coach, and is about as loved in Washington as Osama Bin Laden. Dump this hillbilly off on the Colts, or some other chump defense. (Why isn't Darrell Green coaching anyone on this team? DBs? Special Teams? Get him a job, ASAP. And Charles Mann.)
Now for free agency.
Dwight Freeney needs to be offered a contract so big that first day of availability that he actually orgasms. Dan Snyder is the guy to do that. (Plus, he's got Tom Cruise's witchcraft to help sway the deal.) Honestly, a few years ago, I thought he was going to with Jevon Kearse. Eagles beat him to the punch; and we start Phillip Daniels and a 49er reject at DE. Granted, Andre Carter started to pick it up at the end of the season, and the 'Niners were so bad the past few seasons teams ran on them 3 of the 4 quarters - hence eliminating the need for a pass-rushing guy like Carter - but the guy is a slouch, plain and simple. And I know you're saying Freeney is going to re-sign. How? The Colts D is so bad, they need to spread that money around; a corner here, a DT there; not one lump sum for Freeney. I want Freeney, and I want to either re-sign Derrick Dockery, or bring in a replacement. This offensive line is talented - see: Ladell Betts running for 1,000 yards - so it'd be best to re-sign him and keep them together; but there's talent out there in either the draft or free agency to replace him if he decides to venture off.
As far as the NFL Draft is concerned, the no. 6 pick is a great one to have - if you need a building block. We don't. Brady Quinn, Adrian Peterson, Calvin Johnson, Dwayne Jarrett, Ted Ginn Jr., Greg Olsen, Joe Thomas, Gaines Adams, Quentin Moses and Laron Landry are those type of guys. Notice the quantity. Some team is going to want to trade up to get one of those players. Lets trade down, to the middle of the round, and pick up the best player in this entire draft: Paul Posluszny. I will buy 25 jerseys myself if this guy is a Redskin. Watching this guy play gives me and my golffish erections. I almost want the Packers to take him, so they can amass the greatest linebacking unit of Caucasians ever, but I'm greedy. I want him. I want Gibbs stumbling over his name during press-conferences. I want Gregg Williams' replacement patting him on the butt after he bleeds all over Eli Manning. I want an immovable object in the center of my defense to remind the nation's capital what this country was built on: Burying cocky receivers who come across the middle. Add with the third round pick we get with that trade, and we get ourselves a decent enough CB or OL prospect. I'd love to take Brandon Meriweather - who's stock plummeted in that fight vs. FIU - and pair him with another thug from Miami - Sean Taylor - and watch the first live decapitation in NFL history as they high/low Donte Stallworth next season.
Hey, Gibbs. Do those things, you get yourself another Super Bowl ring with a black quarterback. HAIL TO THE REDSKINS!