In the wake of last night’s crushing at the hands of Alabama, this blog can easily be seen as “piling on.” Those who might say that would be 100% correct.
Guess what, Notre Dame? Today, America is savoring your dismantling because the vast majority of America hates you. Eyeball-popping, color-changing, bile-spewing hatred, and you bring it on yourself.
For purposes of full disclosure, I have far too many people in my life who call themselves New England Patriot fans. After Sunday night’s loss to the Baltimore Ravens, I have found myself besieged with their caterwauling about bad officials, Joe Flacco, and every other reason they can think of to distract themselves from the fact they lost yet another big game.
1) The Patriots Are Another Team With Shitty Fans
Now, because the Patriots haven’t sucked for decade now, the ranks of their fans have swelled to include the fairweather butt-loafs that populate not only Boston and the greater Northeast, but includes generally obnoxious front-runners from everywhere else. You know the guy I’m talking about; the guy who wears a Tom Brady jersey (which always seems to come off in sub-freezing temperatures) despite the fact he weighs as much as a small car, who thinks “FAAAAAAAAAAAAACKYOU! YOUSUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKK! is witty repartee, and who couldn’t tell you who Steve Grogan and John Hannah were.
See, most of the so-called hometown Patriots fans are dickrings who simply change out of their “Big Papi” jersey to a “Tom Brady” jersey every September. What they know about football would fit in their ass with plenty of room for their head left over. It would be a minor miracle if any of them could name a Patriot other than Tom Brady.
In a lot of respects, the Patriot fan base is much like that of the Cowboys; in the sense there’s a small group of real fans who will still be around after Bill Belichick and Tom Brady are drooling on each other’s catheters at the nursing home, and then there’s a bunch of luxury box front-runners, and guys named “Tommy Boy” and “Sully” who once the Pats are back to being a 6-10 team will be back screaming racial epithets at black hockey players.
If it weren’t for the aforementioned Cowboys’ fans, Vikings’ fans, or Raiders’ fans, Patriot fans would be the worst in all of football. They hate Jets fans even though they are exactly like Jets fans. They are just like Jets fans because half of Foxboro is Jets fans on any given Sunday.
Its true. I have several trusted friends who also happen to be Patriot season-ticket holders (they would be small group of “real” Patriots fans). They will be the first to tell you that Gillette Stadium and the town of Foxboro is the worst place in the world for real football fans. The Patriots fans who show up at the stadium are either the shirtless Brady jersey owners, who by the end if the first quarter already stink like their own piss, or they are what is commonly referred to as the “wine and cheese” crowd.
It’s hard to tell which is more hate-worthy; the guy in the stocking cap who will undoubtedly puke on himself at some point while screaming what you are pretty sure is some sort of racial insult, or the guy who spends half of every game telling everyone to sit down. Of course, “Mr. Sit Down” is the same guy who only shows up for the “best” 2 or 3 games of the year and sells the rest of his tickets to Jets fans.
If you doubt them, pay close attention to the seats the next time you see a Patriots game. You will notice the red seats in the middle of Gillette Stadium. That’s where the big-time “wine and cheesers” who own luxury boxes also have the option of sitting outside. This means that many seats go empty which makes Gillette Stadium the quietest in all of football.
These friends of mine can regail with all kinds of tales of Patriot fan dumb-assery, ranging from hearing the offense booed off the field for driving for a game-winning field goal (the crowd wanted a touchdown) to throwing stuff at Troy Brown – in one of the last games of his career – for botching a punt return.
In any case, both “Tommy Boy” and “Mr. Wine and Cheese”-type Patriot fans are like the turd-baby result of a Jets fans ass-raping a Notre Dame fan; they are obnoxious, dim, and keep reminding you they are better than they really are.
Most importantly, the “Tommy Boys” and “Sullys” of the world have this truly messed-up notion that being a loudmouth cynical ass-wipe equals being a tough guy. These are the guys who watch Mark Walhberg movies and fondle themselves, these are the guys who get tougher with each Sam Adams they pound, and these are the same guys who wake up in a puddle of their own piss and teeth after they screamed the wrong thing at the wrong dude. There’s nothing tough about these red-and-blue creampuffs. They are the same guys who are calling sports-radio today wailing like a rotating ball of vag-bitches just using Sunday night’s completely predictable loss as yet another excuse to showcase their brooding moronic bullshit. The fact is that it would take like two or three Raider at the most fans to kick the living shit out of every Patriot fan on earth. These Patriot fans are softer than a Memory Foam pillow made out of marshmallows and puppy fur.
Sadly, like the Cowboys’ fanbase, that of the Patriots’ lumps in the real fans with the soft-ass “Tommy Boys” and “Sullys.”
2) Cheating Is OK When You Have The League’s Biggest Star
Hopefully, we are witnessing the beginning of the end of the never-ending knob-slob fest of the Patriots, Bill Belichick, and Tom Brady. As despicable as ESPN is, at least they’ve spent the morning raking Belichick over the coals for grabbing one replacement referees after last night’s game. That’s just another perfect example of what pussies the Patriots and their fans are. Playing “tough guy” with a replacement referee is like bullying the handicapped kid at school. Bill Belichick has spent the better part of the last decade getting a complete pass from the media, and it’s time to face a fact…there’s a reason why the Patriots haven’t won a Super Bowl since 2004.
There’s no coincidence between the exposure of “Spygate” and the fact the Patriots have become a reasonbly bad play-off team. According to Bryan O’Leary’s book Spygate: The Untold Story Tom Brady knew the defensive calls ahead of time on over 70 percent of his snaps, and makes a case the NFL helped to cover-up the scandal in the first place.
…a new book entitled “Spygate the Untold Story,” suggests the league successfully covered up and minimized the New England spying scandal.
By destroying the tapes quickly, fining the Patriots and taking away a draft pick, but not suspending coach Bill Belichick, commissioner Roger Goodell convinced the public it was a minor matter that didn’t have a big impact on the Patriots’ success.
But author Bryan O’Leary contends it was a key to their three Super Bowl victories and suggests the Patriots might be still doing it in their home stadium, where it’s easy to hide a camera in an obscure place.
O’Leary says it wasn’t just the filming the signals that made the plan work. The Patriots, he wrote, also had a radio frequency to quarterback Tom Brady’s helmet that didn’t click off with 15 seconds left before the play clock runs down — the way the league frequency does.
Ernie Adams, a close confidant of Belichick’s, who is noted for his ability to read defenses, but whose duties have been never publicly defined, is the person in Brady’s ear via their secret frequency, O’Leary writes. He added that Adams can talk to Brady until the ball is snapped and even afterward to alert Brady to the open receiver.
Uhh, yeah, that’s pretty much a full-on cheat. But it does explain a lot.
It explains why Brady now sucks in the post-season. I understand that Brady’s 5 Super Bowl appearances and 3 Super Bowl wins is a major accomplishment, but it’s also fair to look at Brady’s playoff performances in the years since the last of the those Super Bowl wins at the end of the 2004 season. In 12 play-off games since the last Super Bowl win, Tom Brady and the Patriots are only 7-5. More astounding are the stats for an average Tom Brady performance in those games: 23/36, 64% completion percentage, 256 yards, 2.17 touchdowns, and 1.42 interceptions.
Most of those numbers are acceptable, the touchdown to interception ration is the killer. For a guy who is supposed to be a great pure passer, and for a guy who holds that record of 358 consecutive passing attempts without an interception, having more 3 INT games than 0 INT games in your last 12 playoff performances needs an explanation.
In turn, Brady’s post-season mediocrity explains why the Patriots haven’t won a Super Bowl since 2004.
It also explains why “offensive genuises” like Charlie Weis and Josh McDaniels turned to into the coaching equivalent of crunchy cat piss the minute they left New England.
But at the same time, it doesn’t explain why the media types and the same league that swore the Saints’ Bounty Scandal was the worst thing in the history of the NFL turned a blind eye to the fact that what the Patriots did was a far more egregious affront to Roger Goodells’ concern about the “integrity of the game.”
I’m waiting for the day I hear the words “Tom Brady is over-rated” coming out of ESPN. I will be waiting a while, but that day got a bit closer after Sunday night.
3) Colin Cowherd Is The World’s Biggest Patriot Fan, And Even He Won’t Tell You The Truth
There’s no shortage of sycophantery for Tom Brady and the Patriots, but there’s nobody worse than Colin Cowherd. If Brady dropped his shorts and made his minions form a line to determine the order in which they would be allowed to service him, Cowherd would have the first fours spots at the head of the line.
This helps to explain why “Spy-Gate” got swept under the rug, but it also explains something many non-New Englanders who call themselves Patriot fans likely did not know. This may be hard to fathom, but before 2001, the Patriots were the red-headed step child of Boston area sports, and in many respects, still are.
You are never going to hear that fact come out of the blow-dries at ESPN, largely because they either don’t know that, or don’t want you to know that. The fact that even in Boston, nobody likes the Patriots ruins the ESPN-created narrative that New England is the model NFL franchise where everything is happiness and sunshine. Except for one big fact…Boston fans only now like the Patriots because they’ve won recently. But every year they don’t win another Super Bowl, they creep back to the back of the Boston sports bus.
The Patriots without a Lombardi Trophy are just on the road back to days when they weren’t just unpopular in Boston…they were absolutely fucking despised. They weren’t ignored, they were HATED. They didn’t have the championship tradition of the Celtics, nor did they have the perpetual hard-luck stories of the Red Sox, and until recently, you could watch the Bruins without having to see “any of them damn spades.”
In short, Boston was more than happy to treat the Patriots like an orphaned crack baby. All during the franchises time in Boston, they never had a home field, they roamed like football gypsies. In 11 seasons, the Patriots’ played home games in four different venues; Nickerson Field, Harvard Stadium, Fenway Park, and Alumni Stadium all served as home fields for the Patriots. In the 1970’s the Patriots left Boston for a shit-heap of a stadium in Foxboro.
Foxboro Stadium was built functionally obsolete. It was built as cheaply as possible because nobody wanted to spend money on the Patriots. It lacked luxury boxes and most patrons had to sit on backless aluminum benches as only a small fraction of the stadium had actual seats (painted blue, red, and white near the 50-yard line). This stadium was such a joke that twice in the last 20 years, owners had to threaten to move; with a capacity of just over 60,000, it was one of the smallest stadiums in the NFL. James Orthwein bought the team from Victor Kiam in 1992, and had plans to move the team to St. Louis, but he sold the team two years later to current owner Robert Kraft.
The sainted “Mr. Kraft” then threatened to move the team to Hartford in order to get a new stadium built in Foxboro, and Patriot fans line up to blow him as if he weren’t some hopeless drunk who made going to a Patriots game an exercise in sitting in traffic for four hours to buy the most expensive tickets in the NFL. Oh, it will also cost you $40 to park in the absolute middle of nowhere to spend four hours with some of the worst crowds in the NFL. To top it all off, you will be stuck in your car for hours after the game. because nobody thought it might be a good idea to build a road better than a cattle trail to Kraft’s bucolic splendor.
This actually brings back to the media. In this case, it is the local Boston sports media market that really shows off what dipshit Patriots fans are, because the Boston sports media is horrible. They fellate Robert Kraft because he hired a cheater and didn’t move the team. If Rob Gronkowski were black, his behavior would have gotten him run out of town regardless of production (see Mo Vaughn). Can you imagine the way Tom Brady would be treated in Boston if he were black and had the gall to marry a white super-model, considering the way they treated Joe Kapp and Jim Plunkett simply because they were Mexican? The second Brady and Belichick leave or begin to suck, all the “lifelong” Patriot fans will stop going to the games and the Pats will go back to blackouts and 4th-class sports citizenry.
4) Keeping Patriots Fans Talking About “Spy-Gate” Means They Aren’t Paying Attention To The Beginning Of The End
There’s no better troll-bait subject for Patriots fans than “Spy-Gate.” We all know from the first time I brought up that subject in this piece, there was some Patriot fan sharpening his crayon to give some 1500-word screed about how:
- It just wasn’t fair.
- The Patriots didn’t really cheat because the rule was that you are allowed to have video cameras in the stands, not on the sideline (which is NOT true).
- The punishment didn’t fit the crime.
The fun part is that while spending all that time trying to turn wrong into right, the average Patriot fan has not only completely forgotten that the 11 years are the exception, not the norm. These people think it is the Patriots birthright to win every year, and that the four decades of absolute dogshit that preceded 2001 never happened.
This means as we speak, Patriot fans are ignoring several crucial facts that are apparent to the rest of us.
- Bill Belichick is showing the early signs of senility.
If you doubt that, just look the drafting and personnel moves of Belichick the “Genius.”
- The Patriots passed on B.J. Raji, Brian Orakpo, Brian Cushing, and Clay Matthews (twice) in the first round of the 2009 draft because they did not fit into Belichick’s obsolete defensive scheme.
- That same off-season, Bill Belichick traded a third and fifth round pick to the Raiders for Derrick Burgess, who was old, used up, and soon out of the league after this trade. In other words, the “Genius” Belichick got fleeced by Al Davis. To be fair, later in 2009 Belichick got some of that back when he traded Richard Seymour to the Raiders for a first-round pick in the 2011 NFL Draft, which the Patriots used to draft Nate Solder.
- The Patriots cut Brandon Merriweather and James Sanders, then lost a Super Bowl because the remaining safeties couldn’t cover a five-foot table with a ten-foot table cloth.
- Even now, this means Belichick’s defensive backfield consists of the multi-talentless Devin McCourty, the future-performing Steve Gregory, the under-performing Patrick Chung, and the never-performing Kyle Arrington.
- Patriots fans have had to constantly flinch on the linebacker corps since 2006. Watching Chad Brown and Monty Beisel as the starting middle linebackers in 2006 had to hurt. It couldn’t be any better today watching human blocking sleds like Dont’a Hightower, Brandon Spikes, and the chronically over-rated Jerod Mayo. Oh, and Tedy Bruschi never didn’t suck.
- The Patriots took Laurence Maroney over Maurice Jones-Drew in the 2006 draft. I could write a whole blog on the sorry-ass history of Patriot running backs since Cory Dillon and Curtis Martin. It even pre-dates those two…how about some shit-heaps like Craig James and Marion Butts (not Belichick’s fault, but it does indicate the Patriots really don’t understand the running back position).
- The Patriots could have had Mike Wallace, but decided Jabar Gaffney was the best option.
- Bill Belichick gets a pass for having a team every bit as sloppy with discipline as the one Rex Ryan gets criticized for.
Patriots fans are now foaming at the mouth as they read this, and while they are foaming, they are forgetting they have a star quarterback who likes to model with dog collars and go cliff diving in South America instead of working out in the off-season and they have a start tight end who spends his off time posing with porn stars, bar-hopping, and generally acting like a douchebag frat boy. If Tom Brady and Rob Gronkowski were New York Jets, all you would read is how Rex Ryan can’t control his players/runs a “loose ship”/ is generally the worst human being ever.
- The Patriots are a regular-season wonder who can’t win in the play-offs anymore.
FACT: In their last 2 Super Bowl seasons, the Patriots led in the 4th quarter in 37 out of 38 regular-season games, yet did not win a Super Bowl either year.
FACT: Tom Brady is one of five quarterbacks to throw for 5,000 passing yards in a season. No quarterback who threw for 5,000 yards won a Super Bowl in that same season.
FACT: Nobody is afraid of the Patriot offense anymore.
There’s a reason for this. In the days when the Patriot offense really had coordinators losing sleep at night, they could do one of two things. First, they had a vertical passing game that could create big plays. The days when Tom Brady could could on a receiver who could extend the field are gone. Defenses are willing to let Wes Welker catch 100 balls a season because none of those 3-yard passes will hurt them, and face it…Welker isn’t going to out-run anybody anymore. I’ve never seen someone look like they were moving so fast yet cover such little ground. This is why nobody bothers to cover him anymore.
They also can’t run the ball anymore. Don’t let that freak show the other night in Danny Woodhead fool you. They can’t run him 25 times a game and expect him to survive. The bottom line is the Patriots need a running back that isn’t comically named or 5’3″ tall. The Patriots looked invincible last season until the New York Jets and Giants found their Achilles’ heel yet again. The Jets beat the Patriots twice and the Giants won the Super Bowl based on one dirty little secret about the Patriots. Once you take away their running game, their offense suddenly can’t create plays. Look at what happens whenever the Patriots need a big offensive play at a clutch moment. If they could have knocked out that first down which would have allowed them to run out the clock Sunday night, maybe I’m not even writing this today…
The Brady/Belichick offense needs at least the threat of a running game to keep the opposing safeties honest. Once the defensive secondary can cheat back into pass coverage, a lot of the “easy” passing lanes Brady depends on slam shut like a steel bear trap. Not to mention, once the defense is back in coverage, the Patriot deep-passing game ceases to exist.
FACT: The Patriot defense doesn’t concern anybody anymore either.
It’s hard to imagine a group of eleven guys who were less of a factor on a play-off team that the Patriots defense. When will a real Patriot fan have the balls to quit drinking the Boston Kool-Aid and admit that Bill Belichick’s devotion to building a defense of “established veterans” (meaning used-up old farts and useless retreads) doesn’t fucking work? The Patriot defense sucks on whole wheat toast, and yet Belichick is heralded for being a personnel genius despite the facts that he has no idea how to use all those draft picks he stockpiles to acquire and develop actual talent.
Belichick keeps bringing in has-beens like Sean Ellis, Gerard Warren, and Albert Haynesworth to run his version of a 3-4 defense built around a) grotesquely fat defensive lineman who play 2-gap and don’t rush the quarterback, b) edge rushers who don’t get to the quarterback either, and c) a secondary made up of yesterday’s heroes and tomorrow’s failures. Belichick’s version of defense only works against 20-year old offensive schemes (or the Jets today, who the Patriots STILL can’t beat) where quarterbacks took their snaps from under center, teams ran the ball 70% of the time, and there were hardly ever more three or fewer pass catchers on the field in almost all formations. In other words, when the NFL became a living, breathing, fantasy football league in the 2000’s, Belichick’s defensive scheme became obsolete nearly a full decade before he realized it and drafted a pass rusher.
Julian Fucking Edelman has actually got snaps at defensive back. Need I say more?
5) The Conclusions
The Patriots are still a play-off team; in fact they could easily be the first team to lose five Super Bowls. But when the Belichick/Brady era comes crashing down in a few year, nobody’s going to feel bad for the real Patriots fans because thy picked up so many douche-hammers amongst their ranks.
For me, I’m just tired of hearing about them. They haven’t won a Super Bowl in eight years, and yet the Colin Cowherds of the world would lead you to believe the New England Patriots are the greatest franchise in the history of ever.
They aren’t. In fact, this season will mark the beginning of the end.
Right now in Boston, there are two full-time FM radio stations dedicated to propagating the uninformed, self-indulgent whining of the luckiest fan base in professional sports. If you don’t want to buy that description of Patriots’ fans, roll the clock back to Week 10 of last year. The Patriots record at that time was 5-3, and all three of their losses were tight games that they lost by a total of 15 points. More than half of the team’s starters at defensive back are on injured reserve, but the toughest game remaining on their schedule is a Week 17 home game against Buffalo.
But in Boston, that just wasn’t good enough for fans who fucking hated this team 15 years ago. They’ve got a 5-3 record, a cream-puff schedule in a lousy division, one of the most productive offenses in the history of the NFL, and a guaranteed first-ballot hall-of-fame quarterback. At this point, the average Boston pointy-head is calling sports-radio and bleating shit like “Bill Belichick sucks at personnel decisions.” Yeah, I know I just said that, but I’m also not one of the troglodyte Patriot fans who said crap like “Should we keep Matt Cassel and trade Tom Brady?” for three solid months in 2009. In other words, I didn’t just figure out last week that the parade has passed Belichick by.
Those are the Patriot fans who grind my gears, and I can’t wait for them to disappear once the Patriots go back to their usual state at the bottom of the NFL. Make no mistake, that is no more than a year or two from happening. While they spend all their time whining about “Spy-Gate” or Eli Manning, they ignore the fact their team is built to go 12-4 in the regular season thanks to a soft schedule and a 5000=passing-yard offense, and then choke in the playoffs once they’re forced to run the ball, then watch Eli Manning hang three touchdowns on their sorry-ass defense in the final 70 seconds of yet another Super Bowl loss.
And in the words of Bart Scott…”CAN’T WAIT!”
If I started typing now and typed until I wore off my own fingerprints, typed until my hand muscles cramped up and ripped themselves off my hand bones like a future gastric-bypass patient vacuum-cleaning a family-bucket at KFC, and typed until the radiation from my monitor burned smoking craters through my skull, I still would not have typed long enough to list all the reasons why I hate the Dallas Cowboys.
Let’s see if I can give you an abridged version…
1) Cowboy Fans Themselves
This is the part where I have to define who I mean by Cowboy fans. If you call yourself a Cowboy fan, you are exempt from this rant if:
- You see the pattern in the upcoming Tony Romo examples, and realize the real problem in Dallas.
- You have a real tie to Texas – If your only connection to the Lone Star State is that your uncle’s ex-wife’s father was in the Air Force and was stationed in Texas for two years, you have no such connection.
- You can name at least five players from a Tom Landry-coached Super Bowl winning team.
If you do not meet any of those three bullet points, you are exactly who I mean when I say “Cowboys fans.” These Cowboys fans aren’t the worst fans in sports; they are the worst human beings on earth. Child molesters, Neo-Nazis, Vegans…forget them, these Cowboy fans are far worse. Every group has at least one.; just look around you…you will see him. More often than not, he’s a guy with a goatee who loves NASCAR, drinks cheap-shit beer like Busch by the case, has at least two “Baby-mommas,” which is one reason why he lives life constantly under the threat of going to jail for not paying child support; the other being the fact that he pulls in a cool $6,000 a year. Tattoos are optional, but the filthy baseball cap with that God-awful blue star on it (which matches the filth under his fingernails) is mandatory.
It goes without saying the average Cowboy fan I’m talking about is some blue-collar dipshit, but they are dipshits even by advanced, scientifically-calibrated dipshit standards. Granted, I get there are exceptions to this rule; hence the aforementioned criteria for exemption. I’m sure we have some non-dipshit Cowboy fans in a zoo somewhere that we try to mate like pandas in a futile attempt to make a Cowboy fanbase that doesn’t need wholesale extermination.
Tony Romo Example #1: The Airport Conversation
In the following example, determine the proper type (Legitimate Cowboy Fan or Dipshit Cowboy Fan) for each Cowboy fan.
- Cowboy Fan #1: (Spots another guy at the airport wearing a Tony Romo jersey) Are you a Cowboys fan? (High-fives) I was born and raised in Grand Prairie! Have you been to the new stadium? It’s awesome!
- Cowboy Fan #2: No, I ain’t never been to Texas. I’m a long-time, die-hard fan though. This is my third Romo jersey! Now I have two blue ones!
- Cowboy Fan #1: Wow, you are pretty dedicated. I sure wish we could get back to a Super Bowl.
- Cowboy Fan #2: That will never happen ’cause Tony Romo sucks dog balls.
If you call yourself a Cowboy fan and can’t see the difference, have whoever is reading this to you stop right now. This is all completely lost on you. For the rest of you, let’s dig deeper into the defining characteristics of the dipshit Cowboys fan.
Delusions of Football Grandeur:
To be a dipshit Cowboy fan is to be completely oblivious to the fact the Cowboys haven’t won a goddamn thing since the Clinton administration, and not late in said administration either. We are talking years before the only reason why anybody even remembers Clinton; Monica Gulp-insky. It matters little if we are talking about the average blue-collar dipshit, or that suburban white-bread asshole who puts pictures on Facebook of his whole moronic family decked out in all their matching Tony Romo jerseys; we are still dealing with a group of people bound by a false belief their team is better than it is.
Socio-econonomic status aside, they are all fans of “America’s Team,” and goddamnit, fans of “America’s Team” just won’t settle for a decade and a half of being 7-9. So, in the words of Adam Smith from Mythbusters, Cowboy fans are left with little choice but to reject reality and substitute it with one of their own; a silver and blue fantasy world where Tony Romo isn’t a fully-automated, hydraulically-powered fuck-up machine and Jerry Jones isn’t just a drunken, inbred version of Al Davis.
Ask any Cowboy fans about the previous season, and invariably you will get some bilge about how they were “just one play away from the Super Bowl.” Naturally, having fans this delusional leads to a litany of head coaches who do dumb shit like run the shotgun formation on 3rd-and-goal from the opponent’s two-yard line or ice their own field goal kicker. That complete lack of football self-awareness is the driving force behind the next two characteristics.
According to the average Cowboy fan, Dallas didn’t win each of the last seventeen Super Bowls because they were not worthy; they lost because in each of the last seventeen years, they had one fumble-fingered dickweed who blew it for everybody. C’mon Cowboy fans, let’s all see how many of your scapegoats we can list… Hmmmm, let’s see, there’s always Tony Romo, but Cowboy fans always puss out on him and find somebody else to blame. That leaves us with guys like Leonard Davis, Keith Brooking, Marion Barber, Andre Gurode, Ken Hamlin,Terrance Newman, and two different Roy Williamses.
The whole scapegoating thing is why listening to sports talk radio in Dallas is like having rectal cancer turned into amplitude-modulated waves and broadcast from a 50,000-watt tower somewhere in Flower Mound, Texas. It’s been the same fades-under-power-lines static coming from Cowboy fans for nearly two decades now, and it usually sounds something like this…
“We finally got rid of (insert overpaid, overrated, yet-still-Pro-Bowl player here). Now the Cowboys can finally win another Super Bowl!”
It starts like this. Take this opening win over the Giants; a typical early-season “big” win for the Cowboys in which Tony Romo didn’t kill Dallas with one of his patented choke-jobs. Until the first Cowboy loss, Dallas sports talk radio will be this electronic silver-and-blugasm which will be little more than a bunch of beef jerky and Busch beer-fueled screaming about how the Cowboys are going to the Super Bowl.
Then it happens…just as it does every year, and certainly during those of the Tony Romo era.
Tony Romo Example #2: Quotes From The Dubsism Archives
…As much as Romo has a reputation for being a choker, it’s Jerry Jones who can’t get Romo’s jock out of his throat. For some reason, Jones sees Troy Aikman when he looks at Romo. But to be fair, Aikman had a far better set of playmakers around him. Romo’s had the same pressure, and a hodge-podge, B+ at best supporting cast. Don’t get me wrong, Romo is still a mediocre at-best quarterback, but there are still a lot worse options out there. What do you think the Cowboy offense might look like with Donovan “39 passing yards” McNabb at the helm?
I can’t believe I’m defending Tony Romo in two consecutive weeks, but all the people who piled on him last week now have to give credit where it is due. Leading a comeback in overtime after suffering a cracked rib counters everything that was said about Romo last week; namely he’s soft and he chokes in big-game moments. Granted, he needs to pull moments like yesterday more often, but he can only do it one Sunday at a time.
Two weeks in a row, Tony Romo has shown an industrial-sized set of balls he’s never shown before. First there was that comeback win in San Francisco with a cracked rib and a punctured lung, then there’s the performance he turned in on Monday night, leading the Cowboys to another victory in spite of themselves. The Plowboys offense couldn’t even snap the ball effectively, and even when they did, the receivers couldn’t run the right routes, and even when they pulled off those two minor miracles, they still couldn’t catch the damn ball. With the sole exception of Dez Bryant’s catch on that 3rd-and-21 play, the Cowboys offense played without organization and focus, which is why they stumbled into 375 Romo-led yards of total offense and a win considering they never once found the end zone.
With all the ups and downs, one would think you would find the “Romo-Coaster” at Six Flags over Texas rather than Cowboys Stadium. Week 1, he’s a choke-artist. Weeks 2 and 3, he showed “a rare brand of guts and leadership.” Now, he sucks again. Even ESPN doens’t know what to do with him.
There’s the “pro” side, as evidenced by Eric Mangini.
“But ex-Jets coach Eric Mangini said a couple of Romo’s picks against the Lions were not his fault. The gutsy Romo has also led the Cowboys to two victories this season despite playing with injured ribs.”
Then’s there’s the “con” side…
“Really, you saw the best of Tony Romo in a brilliant first half as he pushed Dallas to a 20-3 lead that swelled to 27-3 after the Cowboys took the second-half kickoff and drove for a touchdown. Then we witnessed the worst of Romo. He threw three second-half interceptions — two were absolutely awful decisions — providing the catalyst for Detroit’s comeback.”
After all the hand-wringing and gnashing of teeth, NBC’s Bob Costas probably has the best observation…
“Here’s a guy who see-saws between hero’s laurels and goat horns, seemingly game to game. And today, it was half to half. Romo had three TD throws in the first 33 minutes against the undefeated Lions, but then, three picks – two of them returned for touchdowns,” said Costas.”This has been the pattern of Romo’s season, and, as it’s shaping up, his career. At any moment he is apt to rescue his team with feats of daring do, often showing the presence of mind to improvise his way out of one crisis after another. And then, the next week, or maybe the next moment, he’ll turn in a performance or make a decision that sends Cowboys fans to the ledge.”
After all, good Romo or bad Romo doesn’t matter…Cowboys’ fans ripping their collective hair out is what’s important.
Again, if you call yourself a Cowboys’ fan, and you can see the pattern at work here, then you aren’t the Cowboy fan I’m talking about. You understand the real problem with the Cowboys isn’t Tony Romo or any of the other aforementioned scapegoats. You see there is actually one nuclear-powered douchebag who is solely responsible for the Cowboys’ nearly two decades of irrelevance, and his name is Jerry Jones. I’ll come back to that later.
The typical blame-thrower Cowboy fan will read this screed against his beloved silver-and-blue, and will take time from emptying the septic tank on his double-wide to not-so-subtly let me know about his conceal-carry permit for daring such football blasphemy.
The typical blame-thrower Cowboy fan is the guy who calls up the aforementioned AM ass-cancer sports talk station and bleats shit like how the Cowboys need to trade Tony Romo for Tom Brady (as if that could ever happen), but he says this crap while he’s wearing a Tony Romo jersey.
Unquestionably, the biggest problem with such Cowboy scapegoating is that its very misguided nature keeps missing the real problem. Cowboy fans waste so much time celebrating the departure of their “scapegoats” they completely forget the guy they replaced him with sucks dog-vomit. Why haven’t Cowboy fans figured out that when they cut their Pro Bowl center (Andre Gurode) because he fell into disfavor, they replace him with a guy who couldn’t hit water if he snapped the ball out of a fucking boat (Phil Costa)? And why haven’t Cowboy fans figured out this really all lands on Jerry Jones’ shoulders?
The quick answer: because “scapegoating” should really be called “truth-avoiding.”
Phony Suffering Syndrome:
There is nothing…repeat, nothing…more pathetic than watching football fans who at the same time will tell you how crushingly great their team is while whining about how they have never won a goddamn thing. The best fans for this celebratory self-pitying are Minnesota Vikings fans, but at least they acquired it honestly since the Vikes have never won anything ever.
But for Cowboy fans to try to hide under such a banner of chronic futility is not only delusional; completely ignores the entire reason there are any Cowboy fans in the first fucking place. They didn’t always suck.
I’ve been a fan of the Philadelphia Eagles for my entire football-watching life, and that fandom isn’t long enough to remember the Eagles’ last championship season which just happened to be 52 years ago. But is long enough to remember when the Cowboys were a respectable rival; I always relished beating Tom Landry and Roger Staubach, but I always respected them. In those days, you savored a rare Eagle win over those guys from Dallas, because then beating them meant something.
I won’t lie; I hated Jimmy Johnson. I hated his George Jetson hair-do. I hated his “HOWWWWW ‘BOUT THEM CAAAWWWBOYS!” bullshit. I cheered when Eagles’ fans pelted him with battery-filled snowballs. But beating that Cowboy team also meant something because once they returned from the depths of the late 1980s, they weren’t laughably pathetic.
But since the Jimmy Johnson-built Cowboys faded into history, beating Dallas is like tripping a kid with cerebral palsy. As horrible as that sounds, dipshit Cowboys fans, through their sheer self-aggrandizing assholery, transform watching the handicapped kid full-on, face-first eat a curb into a soul-satisfying experience; because suddenly you have an epiphany that reveals despite his condition, the palsy kid is still a missile-silo sized dickhole who rapes puppies.
While that barely scratches the surface of how horrible Cowboys fans are, this is also the part where I have to remind you are the three exemptions from being what I’m calling a “Cowboy fan.” If you call yourself a Cowboy fan, you are exempt from this rant if:
- You saw the patterns in the aforementioned Tony Romo example, and realize the real problem in Dallas.
- You have a real tie to Texas – If your only connection to the Lone Star State is that your uncle’s ex-wife’s father was in the Air Force and was stationed in Texas for two years, you have no such connection.
- You can name at least five players from a Tom Landry-coached Super Bowl winning team.
Unless you meet one of those three criteria, FUCK YOU. You are exactly who I am talking about. You are part of the pack of horrible Cowboys fans, who are little more than a bunch of front-runners who have no ties to Dallas or Texas whatsoever. You are that insufferable ass-loaf who always ensures we know you are a “longtime Cowboys fan,” so that nobody thinks you are the typical band-wagon jumper from 1992, yet you get exposed the minute somebody realized you couldn’t name one of the two starting quarterbacks from the year before the Cowboys drafted Troy Aikman. You just don’t realize we all see through your bullshit, which is only part of why we all wish you would get some sort of voracious flesh-eating parasite.
But the real reason we all have an eyeball-popping hatred for you is your silly notion that you can be both impossibly arrogant and crying for pity simultaneously. You keep screaming about how great your team is, then moan for empathy when Tony Romo dickfucks your season yet again. Worse yet, now that it has becomes ass-rape painfully obvious that Jerry Jones has firmly inserted his wrinkly, Viagra-infused used-bourbon-drain into the rectum of the Cowboys’ future (again, I will expand on that later), you are taking that whining to stratospheric levels.
The funniest part is you are crying for pity, but you don’t know why. After all, you can’t understand that Jerry Jones is the problem, yet you want sympathy because the Cowboys can’t win. Ever since the Jimmy Johnson era, there was no more obnoxious group of fans. But now that the Cowboys have become the premier choke-maestros of the NFL, they have come looking for sympathy. That’s a supreme chunk of assholery trying to get under the same blanket of futility usually reserved for Lions, Bengals, and Vikings fans. Those people have lived through a half-century of sucking NFL swamp-water; they’ve earned the right to piss and moan like the fat girl who just got kicked out of cheerleader tryouts.
A Cowboys’ fan trying to claim they know suffering is like a Nazi concentration camp guard saying they understand Judaism. YOU ARE PART OF THE FUCKING PROBLEM, YOU TROGLODYTE! Cowboys’ fans sooooo deserve every bit of what they have now; this team is exactly what you get for casually attaching yourself to a dynasty all those years ago, then completely ignoring its obvious demise. Suck it up, take your medicine like a man, wait for Jerry Jones to die, and quit bitching about it.
2) Jerry Jones
I’ve already admitted that I’m a Philadelphia Eagle fan, which means Jerry Jones has given me the greatest gift imaginable; two decades of the Cowboys being a laughing stock. I didn’t think that was possible, and I sure as shit didn’t think it was possible to the extent Jones has reached. It’s both glorious and sad.
Stop and think about it. Jerry Jones has destroyed the Dallas Cowboys. Absolutely fucking destroyed them. Worse yet, waiting for the NFLs Crazy Old Man to die won’t help; he’s ensured his functionally-retarded son will take over once Jerry is in his mausoleum. Oh, wait, that’s already been done.
Stephen Jones has already been with the team for years. Stevie is already the Director of Player Personnel, which means Stevie is already involved with all the terrible drafts and awful contracts for mediocre players; there are as many Stevie fingerprints on the knife in the franchise’s back as there are from Jerry. This team is fucked for years to come, and there’s nothing anybody can do about it.
This is the part where I actually feel sorry for the legitimate Cowboy fans, the ones who met my criteria for exemption from this rant.
This brings us to the history lesson which puts this all in perspective. The Dallas Cowboys were founded in 1960. In no time at all, they became one of the best teams in the league, they were a main rival for championships with the Green Bay Packers in the late 1960’s. They played in their first Super Bowl in the 1970 season and won it in 1971. Even with the down years of the late 1980s, the Cowboys have never gone as long without even playing in a Super Bowl as they have now. We are talking about seventeen years, and the drought isn’t going to end anytime soon.
Face facts, the product the Cowboys are putting on the field can’t win. Yeah, Cowboy fans…tell me all about how you beat the Giants the other night. Come talk to me in December when all the flaws in this team sum up to yet another late-season fold.
The sad part for the old-school, honest-to-goodness Cowboy fans is they are the ones who remember what this team meant to the city of Dallas in the 70’s. The Rangers were perennially shitty. The Mavericks didn’t even exist yet, and the Stars were still in Minnesota. The Southwestern Conference was in its death throes and the Cowboys were the only thing Dallas had for sports.
Gone are the days of Tom Landry, Roger Staubach, and Tex Schramm. Jerry Jones dug up those legacies, sodomized their corpses, then pissed on them before he tossed them back into their graves.
He has completely destroyed the dignity of the franchise. Yeah, I know the old-school Cowboys had a bit of cocaine problem, but they never had a reprobate like Dez Bryant who literally needs 24-hour daycare so he doesn’t kill a hooker or beat up his mother (again).
He has destroyed the competitiveness of the franchise. Raise your hand if you remember the failed Quincy Carter experiment. That’s just one perfect example. The theme is simple; with his North Korean management style, Jerry has at the same time been the driving force behind hand-selecting a cavalcade of shitty players, then publicly de-balling his coaches for not being able to win with sub-par talent.
The only exception to this was Jimmy Johnson. The Cowboys only won three Super Bowls because Johnson was Jones’ roommate at the University of Arkansas, and even then, they didn’t get along particularly well. So, what happened? Johnson builds a team so talented even that glorified Pop Warner coach Barry Switzer could win with it, and for his reward, Jerry Jones fires him. Let that sink in for a minute. Jimmy Johnson built a team that won two straight championships and looked poised to win a shitload more, and Jerry Jones FIRED HIS ASS.
The reason why this happens is because Jones is a raving megalomaniac. There was simply no fucking way there was going to be a Cowboys head coach who was going to become a bigger star than Jerry. He doesn’t really care about the Cowboys; the team is simply the mechanism he uses to feed his meth-addict like need for attention. That’s why Jerry Jones can’t help stepping up to any available microphone and saying anything that makes him the center of attention. That’s why he demands the crap-basket players he acquires are showcased, so that he looks like the football genius he believes he is. That’s why he undercuts his coaches when those crap-baskets play like crap-baskets. And that’s why the Cowboys haven’t won in seventeen years.
The reality is that in the beginning, Jones loved winning because it brought him attention. But eventually, the winning became incidental. The Cowboys were once a dynasty, and now they bob like a peanut and corn flecked turd in an unflushed toilet of mediocrity. The Cowboys used to have legitimate superstars, and now field a roster of has-beens and never-will-bes. The one constant is Jerry Jones feeding his need for attention. Every time a Cowboy shows up in any non-sports media outlet, Jones masturbates like a spider monkey, because he knows there will yet another camera crew getting in his death-mask-like face.
When somebody goes back and does the complete post-mortem on the corpse that is the Cowboys franchise, the exact date of death would ironically be Super Bowl XXX. Winning that Super Bowl was the death blow to this team because like the chunk of undigested Porterhouse steak that will eventually kill him, that win wedged in Jerry Jones’ brain the fatal concept that he was in fact the football genius his delusions told him he was.
He didn’t need Jimmy Fucking Johnson. Jerry Jones convinced himself that he, and he alone, was the determinant of the Cowboys’ fortunes. He beleived the team he assembled could win with any fucktard as a head coach, and he just happened to have a fucktard extraordinaire in Barry Switzer. What better coach could there be for a team full of coke-heads (Google-search “Dallas Cowboys cocaine” for a full afternoon of reading enjoyment) and drug dealers than a guy who gets arrested trying to take a gun onto an airplane?
Barry Switzer rode Jimmy Johnson’s juggernaut of talent to a Super Bowl win; cementing his place for the next decade as the sole Championship winning coach whose name NEVER came up whenever the was a high-profile coaching vacancy. To this day, NFL owners needing a head coach line up to lick Bill Cowher’s spooge off a truck-stop bathroom floor, knowing full well that in addition to his Super Bowl victory, he lost FOUR – count them – FOUR AFC Championship games AT HOME. WHEN HIS TEAM WAS FAVORED. FOUR. Those same spooge-lickers never once had the name “Switzer” in their mouths.
There’s a reason for that. The rest of the league knew something that Jerry never figured out; the guy most responsible for the Cowboys’ win in Super Bowl XXX wasn’t anybody in Dallas, it was Pittsburgh quarterback Neil “Would you like that interception gift-wrapped?” O’Donnell. O’Donnell made a Super Bowl MVP out of Larry Brown (a guy who is now stocking shelves at a Sam’s Club somewhere), which in turn handed the Lombardi Trophy to a Cowboy team which has won exactly ONE play-off game since then, which in turn made Jerry Jones have some sort of self-coronation as of the unquestioned lord and high master of all things Dallas football.
And as he gets closer to being reunited with Al Davis, he gets farther away from reality. The evidence is everywhere. There’s There’s the Rapping Jerry. There’s the “glory hole days” comment. The true Cowboy fans have suffered in silence with Jones’s lunacy for close to two decades, but the truly frightening part is that end in Dallas will probably look a lot like how it ended for the NFL’s original crazy old man in Oakland. You know before it’s over, the Cowboys will have a JaMarcus Russell moment; hell, you can argue that Quincy Carter was the fore-runner for over-hyped non-Heath Shuler SEC quarterbacks.
That saddest part is that you can just tell Jones will go out kicking and screaming, just like all great megalomaniac power mongers. The end in Oakland for Al Davis saw a veritable smorgasbord of NFL scraps and left-overs in silver and black, and Dallas is becoming a Texas-sized steam table offering the same awful football offal. As you read this, the Cowboys’ core is aging by the core , and once they are gone, what’s left of the Cowboys will be little more than dogshit that dries up and blows away under the hot Texas sun.
At the end of the day, the essence of Jerry Jones can be boiled down to two sentences. Two-time Super Bowl winning coach Bill Parcells says “either Terrelle Owens goes or I go.” Jerry Jones says “Terrelle Owens is staying.”
Need I say more?
3) Just A Lot of Bad Football, and Much More To Come
None of that changes the fact that at the end of the day, it’s really about football, which, if I haven’t already mentioned, Jerry Jones has also completely destroyed. The core of the Cowboys —Tony Romo, Miles Austin, DeMarcus Ware, Jay Ratliff, and Jason Witten — are all relics from the Bill Parcells era. Jones has spent nearly a decade failing to build around that core, and the end result is this team sucks out loud.
We already know about Romo. The offensive line consists of Tyron Smith and four used subway turnstiles. The defensive front seven is DeMarcus Ware, Jay Ratliff, Sean Lee, and four traffic cones. Morris Claiborne promises to add a lot of payroll to a secondary that couldn’t cover a two-foot table with a ten-foot table cloth, and to see this week’s Cowboy running back, just look up “over-rated and short-lived.” Did you know the last Cowboy back to carry the ball for over 1,000 yards was Julius Jones in 2006? Since then the Cowboy running game has been a collection of B and C list guys toiling behind the NFL’s version of the Siegfried Line.
Let’s not forget that lack of talent is led by a similar lack of coaching talent. Rex and Rob Ryan are fraternal twins, and its pretty clear Rob is the one who didn’t get enough oxygen at birth. That has to be why he loves to telegraph a 10-man blitz on 3rd-and-short, and thereby turning a two-yard run into a thirty-five yard touchdown pass. Then there’s Jason “I’m going to ice my own kicker” Garrett. Let’s look at a typical Cowboy offensive sequence under Garrett:
- 1st & 10: Romo drops back to pass, which he over/under throws or is dropped after hitting (insert receiver here*) in the hands. Pass incomplete.
- 2nd & 10: Romo hands off to Felix Jones, who inexplicably runs up Tyron Smith’s ass and flops to the ground for a 2-yard loss.
- 3rd & 12: 30-yard strike to Dez Bryant who makes a high-light reel catch. Play called back for holding.
- 3rd & 22: If the Cowboys have already gone three-and-out at least twice, this will be a touchdown somehow. Don’t ask how, not even Romo or Garrett know that either at this point (DeMarco Murray’s “how the hell did that happen” long run the other night is the perfect example). If not, this will be a pass complete to a receiver who for some reason is only 15 yards downfield, which forces a punt.
*Many times, even Romo doesn’t know who is in the huddle with him, because the Cowboys have developed a reputation for grabbing dudes off the street, plunking a helmet on them and telling them “just go deep.” This happens because every single week, it is very likely that either Miles Austin blew a hamstring answering his phone or Dez Bryant is on Death Row. This is why you can see Cowboy receivers staring blankly at Romo until he literally has to run over to tell them they are supposed to stand and what route they are supposed to run. Don’t laugh, this happens at least a couple times a month.
If you expand this out to a full season, it becomes fully apparent why the Cowboys are doomed to be no better than 8-8. The other night’s win at New York primes the pump (WE’RE BACK!!! HOWWWWW ‘BOUT THEM CAAAWWWBOYS!!!), then courtesy of some logic-defying Jason Garrett play calls, there will be a defeat at the hands of either a team even the Cowboys should beat (see Seattle next week), or an over-rated “contender” (see Atlanta in week 9). Then comes the completely inexplicable loss to the dregs of the league (circle Week 11 against Cleveland on your calendar), which begins the “Romo Sucks” calls (actual post from dallascowboys.com message board: “ROMO IS THE WORST WE NEED A REAL QB LET’S TRADE FOR TEBOW HE JUST WINS GAMES!”).
The rest is history. Yet another Cowboys season crumbles into mediocrity, Jerry Jones’ cerebral arteries nudge ever close to that crippling stroke he’s been saving up for, and Tony Romo spends another off-season as the most hated man in Dallas since Lee Harvey Oswald. At least Oswald could reliably hit a moving target at 40 yards…
4) Eventually, I Had To Do A Tony Romo Breakdown
I’ve brought up Tony Romo’s name so much in this piece that it would be Jason Garrett-type logic not to give him his own sub-heading. If you want to see Romo puke it up like cheerleader trying to win the Bulimic of the Year award, just put a Cowboys game on Sunday night. There’s little arguing with seven straight Sunday Night Football losses, and each one of those three-and-a-half hour turdfests was more pathetic than the preceding one.
If the other night’s win over the Giants had been on Sunday, the Cowboys would have stood no chance to win. None. The Polish Cavalry stood a better chance against the Luftwaffe. The Washington Generals would be a steal of a bet in comparison. For some delightful reason, Tony Romo turns into the aforementioned fully-automated, hydraulically-powered fuck-up machine after 8:30 pm. Eastern Time on a Sunday. Now that Brett Favre is gone, if you need a never-ending supply of disemboweling, cataclysmic, season-destroying moments, look no further than Tony Romo on a Sunday night.
Regardless of the night, post-Favre Tony Romo, without the cock shots and the “will I, won’t I” retirement bullshit, is now your home for the unbelievable interception that makes even non-Cowboy fans head for the optometrist because they simply can’t fucking believe what they’ve just seen.
Regardless of the day, sitting in front of your television during a Cowboys game is like a convoluted “Romo Roulette;” within the span of three minutes you can watch him hit a guy perfectly in stride on a deep post for a 60-yard score, then on a 4th-and-2 drill the ball directly into the back of an offensive lineman’s head.
That’s who Tony Romo is, and expecting it to change is like shooting out all your light bulbs so the sun will go down.
5) The Diseased Culture Created By The Marriage of Jerry Jones and the Dipshit Cowboys Fans
In all honesty, I think the thing that makes me hate the Cowboys the most has really nothing to with Jerry Jones or the fans individually; rather it is the birth of a completely self-absorbed culture their marriage created. When Jimmy Johnson arrived from the University of Miami, he planted a seed in the manure-rich Cowboy environment for the most annoying thing in the NFL to grow. We must never forget that it was the U of Miami Hurricanes who began all that overdone celebratory bullshit like signaling after every single fucking first down, shouting and clowning after every single fucking tackles, taking off helmets for camera-mugging purposes, et cetera, ad nauseum…
While it started in Miami, it was the unholy trinity of Jones, Johnson, and the Cowboys fanbase that brought this shit to the NFL. It was the Cowboys who were the first in the NFL to over-celebrate the ordinary, and they were the first to make it completely and utterly ridiculous. There was nothing more obnoxious than watching Cowboys fans going apeshit over Kenny Gant’s “Sharkdance.” The saddest part is he used to do it before kick returns…BEFORE even the most unspectacular play…BEFORE potentially nothing. And then Cowboy fans would go crazy over a touchback. Barf.
While that crap came from Miami, if you really want a good college football comparison for the Cowboys, look no farther than South Bend. When you get right down it, the Cowboys really are the Notre Dame of the NFL. They are brilliantly marketed; you can’t find a single city in America where it is impossible to find some mouth-breather decked out in either Cowboy or Irish gear. The marketing thing becomes even more impressive when you consider they both live off distant memories of days gone two decades by when either of them mattered. Of course, they can still be marketed without winning since at any given moment, there will be the American sports media tickling their collective chins with Cowboy and/or Irish ball hair. This is why the Cowboys and the Irish ALWAYS are completely over-rated; this is why the Cowboys and the Irish keep winning championships on the front pages in September, and are little more than so much faded newsprint by January.
But let’s get back to the marriage analogy. If you are a Cowboys fan who doesn’t remember the pre-Jerry Jones era, think of it as a family where the father died unexpectedly and you are one of the kids. Legendary head coach Tom Landry was the father. Dear old Dad was a stern, but respected figure who kept everything in the household on track and aboveboard. Jerry Jones plays the role of the mother. When “Mom” first got involved with “Dad,” everything seemed to work out fine, but then one day, Dad croaked and “Mom” underwent a drastic change.
At first, you didn’t really notice how drastic the change was, because realistically, the first new “Dad” wasn’t really all that different. He was a car salesman named Jimmy, and while he had a much larger personality and a much better haircut than original Dad, he was nevertheless a tremendous provider who still took care of the kids. Jimmy was smart, owned his own car dealership, brought home the bacon, and always gave the kids everything they ever wanted, especially that year when you and Mom both got new convertibles for Christmas. Your family was the envy of every other on the block. But then one day, Mom and Dad got into a fight because Dad said something about how your grades were slipping, and he made a suggestion that pissed your mother off royally. She thought Jimmy was trying to tell her how to raise her kid, and while the relationship seemed to survive this, the death blow had been struck. Mom and Dad kept a good face on things for you, but Mom secretly bitched to her friends about being underappreciated and decided that since he knew so much about her kids, she started meddling in his car dealership, which was the final straw. Jimmy filed for a divorce, sold the car dealership, bought a new one in Miami, and you never saw him again.
After the divorce, Mom told you everything would be fine, and for a while, it seemed as if it would be. Jimmy forked over big alimony, and Mom got to keep the house and all the convertibles. Then Mom met this new guy named Barry. He was a lot like Jimmy; in fact he was also a car salesman. But he didn’t have his own dealership, he didn’t have a hair-product-advertisement quality haircut, and he wasn’t very smart. Sure, he was personable enough; he sure seemed cool. Hell, he even let you play with his gun before he packed it for business trips. Mom even let Barry take you joy-riding in Jimmy’s old convertible. Then, one day Barry had 14 stingers during happy hour and plowed Jimmy’s convertible into a tree.
After Barry’s funeral, Mom shacked up with a cavalcade of losers. First, there was this guy named Chan. He wasn’t around long. Chan was bald, had bad teeth, and had this weird southern accent. He wasn’t a bad guy, but Mom told all of her friends that sleeping with Chan was like eating a Velveeta sandwich on white bread with extra mayonaisse. Naturally, Mom tired of him quickly, and one day Chan came home from work and found all his stuff out on the front lawn.
Then, there was Dave. Dave was really a bit of a loser, but it really wasn’t all his fault. By now, Mom had turned into a hagged-out old cock-socket, she had blown through all the money she had from the divorce from Jimmy, the convertibles were now high-mileage wrecks traded in for used Ford Crown Victorias, and Mom was buying all your clothes at Wal-Mart. In other words, your life was was a giant shit sandwich; extra-heavy on shit because you didn’t have any bread.
Dave was the guy who made you realize how good you really had it with your real Dad; and even Jimmy made things pretty damn good for you. You also know that deep down in places Mom won’t admit, she knows those were the salad days as well. You now realize that you are no longer the envy of every other family on the block; now everybody is keeping up with the Belichicks and the Coughlins. Hell, even those weird Manning Brothers who live together at the end of the block with senile father have it better than you. Mom hung on to Dave much longer than she should have, but let’s be honest…Mom’s days of getting a good man were pretty much behind her.
Then one day Mom met this guy on Facebook named Bill. Despite the fact Bill was one of those salty old guys who thinks everybody under the age of 40 is a marshmallow-soft puss-bag and that was pretty much why he got a steady diet of dog-shit flambé on the front step, somehow he reeled in Mom from the precipice of complete white-trash-skank-baggery. Mom had let the house she got from Jimmy pretty much go to shit, so Bill got her to hire a new handyman named Romo. The trouble was that Bill wasn’t a healthy guy (he had a body that looked a condom filled with tapioca pudding with a belt around it), and when he saw what a complete thumb-fuck this backward-baseball-cap wearing Romo was, his pig-heart valve burst “Alien”-style out of his chest and he was dead before his dental implants hit the floor.
For some reason, this experience gave Mom a hankering for fat, old guys. This meant for a while, she shacked up with this guy named Wade. Wade was a really nice guy, and everybody liked him, but he was a 275-pound wad of spineless cheese, and Mom did nothing but de-ball him even more.
Now, you hate your life so much that after you couldn’t get into the Texas National Guard, you ran off and did the whole carny thing making kids puke on the Tilt-A-Whirl at county fairs. Mom lives in this big new double-wide trailer that is supposed to look “modern” but it actually looks Frank Lloyd Wright and Frank Gehry made a baby; and Mom’s new trailer isn’t the baby…it’s the afterbirth. But, Mom’s place has the biggest flat-screen TV you’ve ever seen; it so big she had to hang it from the roof rather than mount it on a wall.
The trouble is the reason why you won’t go to Mom’s house to play Xbox on a TV the size of New Jersey is that Mom decided she was tired of the blubby geezers and is now doing a bit of cradle-robbing with the TV delivery guy. Captain Flat-Screen is only a few years older than you (his name is Jason…60% percent of the douche-nozzles in the universe are named Jason), but there’s something just not right about him. He’s a smarmy ginger who keeps telling you about how smart he is (he says he went to Princeton), and whether or not you buy his story isn’t the problem. Yeah, it’s easy to wonder why an Ivy Leaguer is delivering TVs and hanging around with geriatric sperm-dumpsters. You just can’t bring yourself to sit on the couch playing Call of Duty next to a guy you know will be blasting his ginger-spuzz into your Mom’s denture-free mouth (or, God Forbid, the most un-holy of blast-off orifices) twenty minutes after the tail-lights of your Texas hoop-dy hit the I-20 on-ramp.
If you get the metaphors flowing from the previous ten paragraphs , you are clearly not the aforementioned dipshit Cowboys fan. Dipshit Cowboys fans think a “Metaphor” is a Ford car built in the 1950’s, and they certainly would never understand that “Mom’s new double-wide” is actually the new Cowboys Stadium. For those same dipshit Cowboy fans, “Conclusion” also means “bottom-line reasons why you will send me hate mail.” With that…
The legitimate Cowboy fan is to be empathized with. While there are three legs in this un-holy trinity, there is an argument to be made as to who plays what role in the Dallas Cowboys’ “team-fan-owner” menage á trois. The best one, which is also the most credible, has the legitimate Cowboys fans getting put on the spit-roast; being simultaneously prison-probed by a team willing to shove the illusion of success down your throat while Jerry Jones puts some hefty ticket prices in your ass.
The dipshit Cowboy fan, for all he does in terms of pumping money into the coffers of the NFL, is still a dipshit. They are a collection of socio-economic dingle-berries who do little more than stain t-shirts with chewing tobacco drool and think the return of Emmitt Smith and Troy Aikman is merely the invention of a time-machine away. In other words, they are a bunch of neck-haired rednecks who deserve an owner like Jerry Jones; and in turn, a megalomaniac vertebrate hemmorhoid like Jones deserves a fan base that believes “I only put it in her butt” is a plausible defense against an incest charge.
It is no secret that I have little respect for the Chicago White Sox. I’ve written time and time again about why the White Sox are a deplorable franchise. Fans of the Mighty Whiteys are the flotsam and jetsam of baseball, and Ken “Hawk” Harrelson is the perfect representation of such a loudmouthed and idiotic fanbase. For those of you who know what a complete baseball buzz-kill Harrelson has become, there’s the website Heave the Hawk. For those of you who don’t, this past week gave the quintessential dose of Harrelson’s homerism-turned-delusional ranting.
Here’s the setup:
White Sux pitcher Jose Quintana fired a pitch behind Ben Zobrist during Wednesday’s Rays-Sux game and was immediately ejected by home plate umpire Mark Wegner. This led to the “Hawk” launching into a rant which set a new low, even for Harrelson.
CBS Chicago posted a soundboard so you can hear a prime example of his idiocy, but here’s the transcript:
“What are you doing, Wegner? You’ve got to be kidding me. That is so bad, that is absolutely brutal. That is unbelievable. I’ll tell you what, they have got to start making guys be accountable. That is totally absurd. That just tells you he has — here’s an umpire in the American League knows nothing about the game of baseball. That’s unbelievable! He has no business umpiring because he has no idea what the game of baseball is about. He ought to be suspended and if they want to keep him as an umpire, send him back to school and teach him what this game is about.”
The trouble is Wegner saw something Harrelson chose to ignore; this had been brewing for a while. During Monday’s game, Mark Wegner was the second base umpire who called White Sox catcher A.J. Pierzynzki safe on an “in the neighborhood” In order to avoid Pierzynski, Rays shortstop Elliot Johnson came off the bag early during the turn but was not awarded the out. There’s one of those “unwritten baseball rules” about “close enough” on plays like this, but Wegner didn’t call it that way.
Harrelson had nothing but praise for that Wegner call deciding to ignore the “unwritten rule;” making the call based solely on what he saw.
“That guy was cheating,” Harrelson bleated. “And second base umpire Mark Wegner was all over it.“
The trouble came from the fact that Pierzynski deliberately spiked Johnson on the play, and there’s another “unwritten rule” about retaliation.
Flash the clock forward to Wednesday’s game. The Rays get their retaliation in the form of a fastball in the middle of Pierzynski’s back. At this point, the “unwritten rules” say the score is even; you spiked my guy, then I hit your guy…now we get back to baseball.
So, a bit later when Quintana threw behind Zobrist, Wegner knew he was watching a clear violation of the “unwritten rules;” one that likely was going to start a bean-ball war or worse. Wegner recognized Quintana’s intent and ran him before the situation got out of hand. In other words, Wegner once again made a based solely on what he saw, but since this time in went against the White Sux, all of a sudden Harrelson is outraged.
I understand Harrelson’s paychecks come from Comcast, and the Whiteys have power of approval over who does their games. I understand it is Harrelson’s role to be a “homer.” But I also understand there is a big difference between being a “homer” and being a buffoon. I also understand it must be pretty obvious a line was crossed when not only did Harrelson get called on the carpet by Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig and White Sox owner Jerry Reinsdorf, but that I agree with these two guys whom I made of living from excoriating on a regular basis.
Apparently, both Selig and Reinsdorf took the “Hawk” to the woodshed; to the point of telling him going after the umpires in such fashion on the air is not going to be tolerated. From ESPN Chicago:
“I talked to Bud Selig yesterday,” Harrelson told ESPN Chicago.com’s Bruce Levine on Friday morning. “We had a talk. Actually, Bud talked and I listened. If it was a prize fight, they would have stopped it in the first round.”
“I also talked to Jerry, and I listened to him as well. That’s all I really have to say.”
White Sox spokesperson Brooks Boyer told ESPN Chicago “moving forward those type of bursts and snaps will be limited if not eliminated.” You have no idea how much I hope that means this is the beginning of the end for this blowhard. I don’t think by this point that Harrelson can help himself anymore. I’m old enough to remember when the “Hawk’s” act was little more than colorful homerism, but those days are long since gone. Now, Harrelson just spews invective and conspiracy theories about how every umpire umpire in the world is out to get the Whiteys.
He’s simply an abomination, and I sincerely hope he’s gone soon.
However, I’m not going to hold my breath.
First of all, Harrelson has been acting this way for years, largely because he knows that there is little chance of real repercussions. Sure, he got a couple of scoldings this time, but that’s about as bad as it will get. Selig really can’t do anything to Harrelson other than make Reinsdorf’s life miserable, and that isn’t likely to happen since Reinsdorf may now be (in the absence of George Steinbrenner) baseball’s most powerful owner.
Top that off with he fact that Reinsdorf has a major case of undying loyalty to Harrelson as he has become the face of the Whiteys, which is why we all may be listening to the “Hawk” for quite some time. In a weird, photo-negative sort of way, Harrelson stepped into the void left by Harry Caray. Like Caray, he’s become this larger than life figure who is loved by the fans of his team. However, Caray achieved this status by being like everybody’s lovable grandfather who may have liked his Budweisers just a bit too much; Harrelson has done it by being everybody’s pissed-off, “hates everything” uncle.
The biggest problem is that neither Harrelson or White Sux fans realize that he makes the team and thier fans look like a bunch of knuckle-dragging mouth-breathers. This is why I would be willing to bet that the “Hawk” will be one of the few announcers who has more than 25 years of service with one team who will never receive the Ford C. Frick broadcasting award in Cooperstown because he is little more than an embarrassment not only to the Whiteys, but baseball in general.
I swear to God, there is almost no type of person who pisses me off more than whiny, bitchy parents. To be honest, this rant started as a tome against those “sports” parents who manage to achieve the supreme ranks of assholiusness by insisting their palsied little klutz is the greatest thing to hit (insert sport the kid sucks at here) since (insert icon for said sport here).
We all know that parent; the one who screams at their kid for two solid hours, all because daddy couldn’t make it past JV tight end. There was a time in my life when I coached youth sports, and I quit doing so because I knew eventually I would kill one of these shit-loafs who calls his own kid a “fag” because he dropped a fly ball.
Some time later, little did I know that I would find another type of parent which I hate more. I didn’t think it was possible, but I have discovered that I can’t stand those parents who both need you to think parenthood is some sort of noble act and feel a compulsive need to make sure you know how much their lives have been destroyed by something they volunteered for.
I usually love to read Drew Magary’s rants on Deadspin, but he loses me here as I found out he is one of these parents. The following is another patented Dubsism-style breakdown of Magary’s whining about parenthood.
May has started, which means that we’re quickly running out of May and I don’t want May to end because that means summer is here and OH FUCK GOD PLEASE NOT AGAIN.
You childless people don’t understand summer. You think summer is so awesome because you get to wear skimpy clothing and rent out timeshares in some beach town and throw parties where you hollow out an ice luge and all your buddies take turns CRUSHING Firewater shots. Well, fuck you. Enjoy summer while you can, before it turns on you and digs its heel into your ASS.
First of all, fuck you right back, Drew. Parenthood is a choice. Don’t get all bitchy at me because you decided to do to your life what Daniel Snyder has done to the Washington Redskins. Nobody stuck a gun to your head, grabbed your dick, and jammed it into your wife. See, the one thing I know about myself is that I would make an absolutely terrible father. That means one the reasons why I made the decision not to be one is not because I know I would be likely to produce a serial killer or worse yet, some sort of Kardashian, but because I know I would totally be that guy who is pulling this exact sort of crybaby bullshit.
My kid’s school ends in the second week of June, and after that I’m DEAD. I am no longer living. Just rip my spine out and use it for suspension bridge cable, because having a child out of school is like having your home invaded by 17 bats. WHERE ARE THEY?! WHAT ARE THEY DOING?! THEY GOT INTO THE SUGAR JAR NOOOOOOO!
If you have young kids, there’s no recourse for you. Shockingly, there are NO summer day camps that last from the last day of school to the first, and there should be. Day camps go on a week-by-week schedule and they cost a FORTUNE. You’ll pay $500 a week for astronaut camp and your kid will be there from 9-10:30 three days a week watching old film-strip summaries of Disney’s The Black Hole. It’s worthless. And you can’t send your kids to overnight camp because they aren’t ready for it yet. My folks once sent my sister to overnight camp for eight weeks when she was, like, 7. To this day, she still reams them out over it. But I totally understand their methodology.
With all due respect Drew, because normally I love your rants, but fuck you again. You either should have known the job was dangerous when you took it, or you didn’t do the required reading. All I had to do to know I could never hack parenthood is to look at people who had kids. They all look like extras from the “Walking Dead;” complete with the sunken, sleep-deprived eyes, shuffling “please shoot me in the face” gait, and ragged clothing perfumed by the pungent aroma of puke and/or baby shit and not the foul stench of death (yet). All this means because you didn’t understand exactly what you were getting into, you think you get to make the same justification your parents did to ship your kids off to Camp Sandusky, where the likelihood that something horrible can happen to them is A-OK with you so long as you can get a weekend pretending you are a drunken, degenerate college student again.
You can try and take your kids to the pool, but every public pool is overcrowded and populated with fat people who buy all the chocolate éclairs from the ice cream guy before you have a chance to. Or you can join a country club for $80,000 a summer, which everyone can totally afford. Even local pool clubs charge hundreds or thousands of dollars for membership and have endless waiting lines. And if you join a pool, it doesn’t improve things because you have to spend every second at the pool making sure your kids don’t drown or that they don’t get splashed in the face by some punk teenager doing can openers in the shallow end. THAT IS NOT A SAFE JUMPING AREA, YOU TWAT.
Chocolate éclairs at the pool? Really? Now I know why you had kids. Any man who eats chocolate éclairs at the pool is obviously only a few credits shy of his degree from Gay University, and we all know there’s a ton of men out their hiding their “Rainbow” flag behind a wife and kids.
Not to mention, that “punk twat teenager” started out as a kid just like yours. Twat teenagers come from twat parents… never forget that. I’m not saying this will necessarily happen to your kid, Drew, but this Nancy-Boy rant of yours really isn’t a good indicator of where things are headed at the Magary household.
And you can’t go to any movies because all the good movies are PG-13, and your kids are too delicate to be subjected to them. My mom saw Avengers before I did. For real. She sent me an email this morning calling it, “Excitement personified.” Because my mom is apparently Larry King. Goddammit I wanna see that shit.
Which takes us to another time I had to call out a guy of whom I am usually am a huge fan. A while back, Dan Patrick told a story on his radio show about taking one of his daughters to see the movie “Black Swan.” Again, this is simply a case of not doing the required reading. First of all, any movie about ballerinas is bound to be messed up because ballerinas are messed up. Face it, every ballerina on the planet is an eating-disordered, performance-anxiety charged toe-standing ball of neurosis. Secondly, ballet is messed up in and of itself; every ballet ever written is about murder, suicide, incest, or any of a hundred other not-so-family friendly topics. So, even if you didn’t read up on how disturbing this movie is, you should have known that going to ANY movie about ballet was a risky proposition. Therefore, I have no sympathy for anybody who didn’t do their homework and ended up sitting next to their 14-year old daughter through two hours of suicidal visions, masturbation, and lesbian sex. What did we learn, Dan? Learn what you are getting into before you get into it.
School should be year-round. It should begin at 8 in the morning, go till 6 at night, and there should NEVER be any days off. Not weekends. Not holidays. Not for some bullshit teacher conference that I know is just an orgy at a local Days Inn. And definitely not for the hottest three months of the year, when everyone is sweating and crowding each other and being horrible. School should always be there to pick up my kids, whisk them away, and dump them back off. FOR FREE. None of this, “Hey, let’s take three months off so parents can have quality time with their kids!” nonsense. That’s crap. If I wanted to spend three months with a child, I would get a Jersey Shore share with Daulerio. Summer must be destroyed forever.
Now for the part that really pisses me off. Just because you fired a nail gun into your own face, you want me to bleed with you. Fuck you number three, Drew. If you didn’t want to spend three months with a child, then don’t have one. Why don’t you get all the other parents together and create boarding schools so you can all enjoy the perks of destroying your wives via pregnancy without having to deal with those Faustian, blood-sucking little nightmares you made? It’s bad enough I have to deal with all your little bastards when you let them run loose in every neighborhood in America; you aren’t getting into my wallet for it as well.
In other words, you signed up for this duty. Quit your bitching, pay for your own mistakes, and stop hating me because I did my homework.
After my last rant on this topic, SportsChump sent me a link to an article with the simple comment “You’ll love this.”
So I read it.
As I read, I was forced to rush for the duct tape in a futile attempt to keep my skull from exploding.
I was too late.
As I was picking up bits of brain and skull from around my office, it became clear this was SportsChump’s attempt to goad me into another rant. After all, he posted a pretty good take on this situation as well.
His plan worked. By the time I had Humpty-Dumptied most of my head back together, I could feel the new rant fulmenting. The rant comes in the patented Dubsism breakdown format. The article in question was written by Teresa Puente form Chicagonow.com. It’s pathetic. Read further at your own risk.
Ozzie is being Ozzie.
No matter how much Ozzie Guillen apologizes for his misplaced respect and love of Fidel Castro, he will never be forgiven by the Cuban community in Miami.
“I feel like I betrayed the Latino community,” Guillen said in Spanish at a press conference that was broadcast on ESPN Tuesday morning.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again…there’s nothing quite like the supreme assholery of those who are so quick to label something “unforgivable.” That is EXACTLY the type of intolerance upon which dictatorships like the abhorrent one of Castro are built; the soul of tyranny is the stamping out of that which is deemed arbitrarily to be “unfavorable.”
Not to mention, isn’t the first sentence basically dismissive of this entire article? If this is just another example of “Ozzie being Ozzie;” meaning yet another time that an outspoken guy said an outrageous thing, then why does anybody give a damn? For one reason and one reason ONLY… so that some writer can take on some high moral tone which will prove to be complete bullshit.
This is true. But his remarks are offensive to all people who believe in democracy.
The people in Cuba are not free. They are not free to travel. They are not free to vote for the leader of their choice. They are not even free to use the Internet.
I know this because I have friends who fled Cuba or still live in Cuba, and they have shared their stories with me.
I could be petty and point out the disconnect between the control of information in Cuba and just how this writer shared these tales of woes with all her Cuban friends who are still on the island. But I would rather cast aspersions on this article with the real meat; the complete hypocrisy it contains. Note how the author climbs up on her high moral horse in a defense of democracy, yet the entire tone of her “Fire Ozzie” argument relies on the same shop-worn, intellectually vapid pillars used by the typical American hypocrite anytime they want to censor something they don’t like. Democracy and civil liberties are great for me, but they stop for you the minute you say something I don’t like. One of the great lessons I ever got in life came from my grandmother who told me to never trust people who claim to have the “moral high ground.”
Now I know she was talking about people like Teresa Puente.
One thing the “moral crusaders” love to do is make you feel guilty based on the suffering of others…hence, Puente trots out a whole list of tear-jerkers intended to make you break out the crying towel.
One friend was so hungry that some days all he had to eat or drink was a glass of water with sugar.
I have another friend who was not able to legally live with his wife in Cuba. She was from another province and the government wouldn’t give them a permit to live together because the square footage in his house was too small.
She was afraid walking around Havana of being stopped by the police and sent back to her province several hours away.
Average Cubans are not allowed to step foot in hotels that are reserved for tourists.
And of course there have been many political prisoners of Castro.
Ask any Cuban-American and they can tell you a story of struggle or suffering in Cuba.
Are you shocked, appalled, and feeling compelled to action yet? Don’t feel guilty if you aren’t; nobody else is either. There’s a great reason why you aren’t. In order for you to feel as outraged as the author intends you to feel, you have to believe Ozzie Guillen’s blunder-tongued comments either created the suffering in Cuba or exacerbated it. All you have to do to see that is separate yourself from the emotion being used here.
Are these things all horrible? Absolutely. In an ideal world, would suffering on this scale not exist? Of course it wouldn’t. Does anything Ozzie Guillen says have any effect on any of it? Not a chance.
Now for another trick the “moral crusaders” love…pointing to somebody who is being brave in the face of brutal oppression.
Now, to be fair, I read this woman’s blog, but I didn’t read every single word; it has a five-year history and is clearly well-written, not mention well-read. But for Puente to try to ride this woman’s coattails is a complete joke. Sanchez’ blog is about real problems facing real people, not a bunch of candy-ass hypocrites who heard words they didn’t like. This is exactly why Puente completely avoids the real issues of human rights abuses in Cuba to get back to some powerless words uttered by a baseball manager.
Back to Ozzie.
The former Chicago White Sox manager deserves to be suspended by the Miami Marlins.
I love it when the “moral crusaders” think they get to play judge, jury, and executioner. Why did he deserve to be suspended? I’m willing to listen to any explanation that does not include the word “offensive.” Shit, you might even get me to agree with one that included the term “crushing stupidity.” But give me something more than the emotionally loaded and intellectually lazy.
They made a big mistake. Marlins’ management should have known that Guillen has a big mouth.
“Should have known?” This suggest to me this woman didn’t give a shit about baseball two weeks ago. Anybody who has been paying attention for any amount of time knows that given enough time, Ozzie Guillen will stick both his feet in his mouth up to the ankles. That’s “Ozzie being Ozzie,” remember?
Guillen is a hypocrite.
Takes one to know one…again, Puente “believes” in democracy, but wants de facto censorship.
Remember how Guillen chastised actor Sean Penn for praising iron-fisted Venezuelan leader Hugo Chavez?
No, because smart people don’t bother putting any creedence behind the words of a loud-mouth baseball manager. If they did, don’t you think the gay community would have protested his hiring remembering the time he called then Chicago-Sun Times columnist Jay Mariotti a “fag?”
Guillen deserves the suspension by the Marlins and more.
But no amount of suspension or apologies will undo the political damage he has caused and the economic impact it will have on the team.
The best thing Marlins management could do to repair the damage is to tell Ozzie, “Adios.”
Here’s the best part…she jumps from suspending Guillen to handing him his hat and showing him the door, all while tacitly admitting punishing him won’t make a damn bit of difference. The proof comes from a story on Yahoo Sports which laid out the complete non-impact of the supposed “outrage” in the Cuban community.
MIAMI (AP) About two dozen protesters are outside Marlins Ballpark, expressing their displeasure with manager Ozzie Guillen. The demonstration Thursday came before Miami’s afternoon game with the Chicago Cubs. Many waved Cuban flags, held signs and used a megaphone to criticize the manager.
Two dozen? I can see more people waiting in the check-out lines at a Wal-Mart. Two dozen isn’t a protest, two dozen is a bus stop.
If even the Cubans won’t turn out to pissed off over Guillen’s comments, they why should I give a shit what some self-righteous writer thinks?
Oh that’s right, I don’t, and it seems nobody else does either.
Over the past few weeks, there have been two issues that really chapped my ass. I’ve been trying to just let them go, but then I realized I’m a blogger; it’s my non-paying job to bitch about stuff. So, here it goes…
1) The Bobby Petrino Situation
The guy is a scumbag, pure and simple. But Arkansas got what they deserved, and the only person I’ve seen say that is the guy over at Klown Times.
Keep in mind that (Arkansas athletic director Kevin) Long is the same AD who hired Petrino away from the Atlanta Falcons DURING THEIR SEASON. If that wasn’t bad enough, Long did so without asking permission to speak to Petrino.
Plus, I find it hard to believe that Long did not know of Petrino’s past transgressions. After all, this is the same Petrino who secretly flirted with Auburn while former coach Tommy Tuberville was still employed there. And of course there was that Atlanta Falcons “thing.”
Let’s take Klown’s position as a starting point. I’ve always had a sort of “three strikes” rule when it comes to forming opinions, and this latest incident with Petrino was clearly worthy of ringing him up as a complete dick…100%, USDA Prime, Grade A Tube Steak.
Look at the Auburn situation. You know what kind of guy flies into town secretly to discuss ripping a job out from under another coach? The same kind of guy who pretends to be your best friend, then bangs your wife the minute you are out of town on business. Not to mention, this tells you a lot about how much this guy values loyalty. He was perfectly fine not only with leaving town unannounced in the middle of the night, he was willing to sneak in the back door at his secret destination. I understand that valuing loyalty in college sports is like cornering the sunscreen market in Alaska in January, but at some point you simply cannot advertise you are willing to stab anybody in the back at anytime; karma can be a real bitch. We’ll come back to that point later.
Then, there’s what happened with the Falcons. The way that situation ended in Atlanta could have been a 500-level class in douchebaggery. Not only did Petrino actively seek to bail the minute things got tough mid-way through a failed season, he secretly campaigned for the Arkansas job while then-Hawg head coach Houston Nutt was embroiled in his own scandal, and when Bobby-Boy got the job in Fayetteville, he informed the Falcons of his mid-season departure with a letter. The Falcons, and their owner Arthur Blank made a huge commitment to Petrino on the assumption he would be the big-time coach to make the transition from college to the NFL. Fat chance; instead the Falcons realized the hard way they had married their future to a guy who couldn’t wait to skip town the minute a greener pasture presented itself. Perhaps if Arthur Blank had paid Petrino in 25-year old motorcycle riding suck-sluts…
As much as the douchiness already oozes out of this issue, there’s two things that really pissed me off here. First of all, there’s the people who thought Petrino shouldn’t have been fired. Tell that to Houston Nutt. For those of you who may not recall, Nutt got himself run out of Fayetteville for some extra-marital cannubial bliss. To make a long story short, Nutt’s relationship with local news anchor Donna Bragg hit the public arena when a fan who was angry with the Nutt filed a Freedom of Information Act requesting Nutt’s email and phone records, at which point he exposed his carnal canoodling with Bragg.
Of course, this led to Nutt’s firing, not for his won-loss record, but for his extra-curricular activity. I will admit I’m a fan of the Nutt, if for no other reason as he makes wonderful blog-fodder. But this is more about the potential headache Arkansas could have faced. If the university had not fired Petrino, the Nutt could have excoriated the Arkansas administration, especially since Petrino upped the ante over what the Nutt did by a) messing with a University employee who b) Petrino got on the payroll nad c) tried to cover up the motorcycle accident, up to and including trying not to call 911 to aid his injured mistress, which led to d) the filing of a false report on the incident to university administration.
Speaking of coaches who have no love for Petrino, do you wonder what Tommy Tuberville thought of all this? Sure, now Tuberville has his own issues to deal with at Texas Tech, but don’t forget that Tuberville hired Petrino at Auburn to run his offense. In a move of complete foreshadowing, Petrino stair-stepped that experience into the head coaching job at Louisville, the very same job from which Petrino then tried to secretly steal Tuberville’s gig at Auburn. Here comes that karma thing again…
St-eeee-rike Three. Grab some bench, Bobby…you are out.
As far as blog-fodder is concerned, here’s a classic bit from the Dubsism archives about Bobby Petrino, Houston Nutt, Tommy Tuberville, and the classic Vietnam War story…
2) The Overblown Ozzie Guillen “Controversy”
I really don’t know where to start with this one. I don’t know for whom I have the most invective for in this case. It could be the douchebags in the media who asked the outspoken Guillen a loaded question when they knew both the answer he would give and how they would attempt to explode the statements of a baseball manager into some sort of geo-political catastrophe. It could be the dumb-asses who stood in front of the Marlins’ ball-park acting as if Guillen’s statement about the murderous scumwad known as Fidel Castro had somehow been responsible for all the misery caused throughout the annals of human history. Hell, it could also be the people who acted as if this was the worst thing that could ever happen, then completely lost interest as quickly as they became so righteously indignant.
Let’s start from the top.
First of all, it is a sad state of affairs when I have to agree with that pompous bag of anal leakage known as Bill Maher. But his defense of Guillen, while done for reasons ideologically different from my own, is still nonetheless correct.
“If you say something Communists don’t like, they take away your job and send you to a re-education camp until you come out with the one approved opinion,” Maher said sarcastically. “We wouldn’t want that here in America.”
Granted, the blood of tens of thousands of innocent people is on Castro’s hands. If I were in Cuba and made the anti-Castro comments I’m making here, you can bet your beard and cigar my ass would be in a cell in no time. That’s what dictators do. But in America, the press has the right to ask a loaded, pre-meditated, and/or albeit pointless question, much like Guillen has the right to answer it even if it means sticking both feet in his mouth up to the ankles.
Am I the only person who was reminded of the Marge Schott incident? For those of you who don’t recall, Schott was sand-bagged by ESPN’s Sal Paolantonio when she made some pro-Hitler comments. For this she was run out of baseball, despite the fact that all she did was answer a question. If you read the transcript of the interview, two things should leap off the screen at you. First, what she said was hardly a ringing endorsement of Hitler, and second, you should find it curious that the exact wording of Paolantonio’s question is missing.
Here’s why that matters…if you are going to ask an out-spoken person like Schott or Guillen such loaded questions, aren’t you doing so EXACTLY to illicit such a quote you as a journalist can use to gin up a tempest on a keyboard? Doesn’t that then mean that the very same journalists who are fanning the flames of indignation are doing so while hiding their matches and gasoline cans?
Then, there’s the people who were so whipped up over all of this? This whole thing dripped with so much hypocrisy; people who don’t even go to Marlins games threatening boycotts unless Guillen was fired, yet they were noticeably absent when Guillen returned from his suspension. Oh, that’s right, they weren’t going to show up anyway. Not to mention, many of these Cubans who were supposedly so upset by Guillen’s comments are the very same who have done nothing to help those people still stuck under Castro’s thumb. I understand this in no way applies to all Cubans, but there is a sizable portion of that community who have taken a decided “I got mine, you get yours” attitude towards those still in Cuba. If you want to create change, you have to do more than show up for three hours with a cardboard sign.
Not to mention, there’s nothing quite like the supreme assholery of those who are so quick to label something “unforgivable.” Guess what, you sign-waving dipshit? It is your very intolerance upon which dictatorships like the abhorrent one of Castro are built; the soul of tyranny is the stamping out of that which is deemed arbitrarily to be “unfavorable.”
Now, for the most important question. Why does anybody give a frog’s fat ass about what Ozzie Guillen thinks? He’s a baseball manager, and that’s all he is. He’s not the President, a Governor, or any sort of politician or government leader. He’s not an ambassador to the United Nations, he’s not even an over-paid entertainer who gets away with saying stupid shit on a daily basis. But like those entertainers, his words carry no weight, so outside of baseball there is no reason to give a damn about anything he says. One of the items in the Bill of Rights is the right to free speech; which is why one thing that isn’t there is the right not to be offended. There’s lots of truly offensive things in the world, and if you get your hackles up over the ramblings of a half-wit baseball manager, you really need to get out of the house more often.
First of all, I have to offer congratulations to the Boston College Eagles for winning their 5th national championship. Honestly, this team has been the best in the college game for the better part of the last decade; this latest triumph represents B.C.’s 4th title since 2001 and their third in the last six years. So, before I get into my rant, let’s cover the basic facts of this win for Boston College.
The game itself drew a crowd of 18,818 to the Tampa Bay Times Forum, a record for a first-time Frozen Four venue, and the total attendance for the semifinals and championship game was 37,423. The fact that they drew this much of a crowd in a sports-challenged hole like Tampa has to be encouraging for the devotees of college hockey who are hoping this sport continues to grow in popularity.
As for the game, Boston College (33-10-1) was playing in its seventh championship game since 2000 and by beating “Cinderella” Ferris State the Eagles became the first school to win three titles in a six-year span since the Denver Pioneers won three in 1958, 1960, and 1961 respectively.
Despite the “David v. Goliath” feel going into this game, the Ferris State Bulldogs played B.C. to a virtual standstill for 57 minutes. B.C. took a 1-0 lead less than four minutes into the game on a Steven Whitney backhander from the left side of the crease. But Ferris State came back less than two minutes later when Garrett Thompson pulled the Bulldogs even.
The Eagles took back a 2-1 advantage in the first period on Paul Carey’s power play deflection with nine seconds remaining on a Ferris State penalty. While the final score ended up being 4-1, the last two Eagles’ scores were irrelevant because of the stellar play of Eagles’ goalie Parker Milner. Milner was named the Most Outstanding Player in the Frozen Four on the strength of his 27 saves against the Bulldogs and the fact that during the entire tournament he notched 110 stops while only allowing two goals in 240 minutes.
In other words, the Boston College Eagles have become in this most recent decade what my North Dakota Fighting Sioux were in the 80’s. And this is why I hate them…call it whatever you will, but these east coast pukewads are enjoying the success which should be reserved for the Sioux.
You really don’t to tell me this makes me the college hockey version of everything I hate about Yankess and/or Red Sox fans; the fact that B.C. brings this bile-spewing invective out of me is the big reason they grind my gears. But it certainly isn’t the only one; let’s walk through some of the major ones…
1) They Killed Ferris
If you are a fan of the underdog, you had to love Ferris
Bueller State, whose 26-12-5 record got them into the tournament as a #3 seed. Ferris Bueller State reached the championship game by beating Denver, Cornell, and #1 seed Union. The Bulldogs were attempting to become the first school to win the title in its first appearance in the championship game since Maine in 1993, and the first to triumph in its first trip to the Frozen Four since Lake Superior State in 1988. But B.C. felt the need to play “killjoy.”
2) They Exemplify Dave Hakstol’s Impotence As A Head Coach
As the Red/Green show above tells you, I gagged on three of the Frozen Four and have no shot at hitting the winner. The damn WCHA screwed me once again as out of the four teams the conference placed in the tournament, only the Minnesota Golden Gophers advanced to the Frozen Four. At least this is the last year that I need to worry about the WCHA as a factor in this tournament with the tectonic re-alignment that is coming to the college hockey world.
Let me begin by saying that Sioux head coach Dave Hakstol is an enigma to me. Under his tutelage, his teams historically have had have some of the best talent in the country, but his teams play with a lack of discipline and interest for the front half of the season; during the back half they become the best team in the country, then lose in the playoffs because they revert to the style of the front half. He is like the Dudley Do-Right of college hockey coaches.
The Sioux performance in the NCAA West Regional Final was just another example. The Sioux spent large periods of that game playing some very stupid hockey. They gave away four power plays, at least two of two of which were just dumb penalties. They kept committing sloppy line changes, at times allowing the Gophers to roll through the Sioux zone like Von Runstedt’s panzers did through France. At times, the Sioux played very inattentive defense, letting the open man literally skate through the slot right up to the crease, and allowing them to enjoy a cup of coffee while waiting in front of the net for the puck. This helps explain how Minnesota had a 3-goal outburst in the second period that effectively ended all hope for the Sioux.
The bottom line is this. Once again, Sioux fans got a team that underperformed early in the season. Once again, Sioux fans had their hopes for that elusive national title dashed by a team that keeps shooting itself in the skate. Since Dean Blais led the Sioux to their last national championship in 2000, this most recent season under Dave Hakstol is a microcosm of the entirely of his career behind the Sioux bench; play well enough to get home ice in the conference tournament, win the conference tournament which gets either a #1 or #2 seed in the NCAA tournament, then blow it.
And more often than not in recent history, they’ve blown it against Boston College.
3) Their Star Goalie Has a Stupid Name
Parker Milner. What the hell sort of name is that? Either one would be acceptable on its own, but together they suggest a love child created by former Dan Patrick Show Cougar of the Week Parker Posey and 60’s television icon Martin Milner.
4) They Are In Boston
What happened to the B.C. Hockey team the last time they won a championship really says it all.
Usually, one expects hockey players to be able to handle collisions. Or course, usually one also expects them not to collide with a light-rail vehicle, which by the way, aren’t really that light. But when you win a championship, sometimes the parties get out of hand, and next thing you know, a Jeep becomes just a wad of metal stuck on a knuckle coupler.
It seems last week three lads from Boston College’s NCAA hockey championship squad thought it might be a good idea to play chicken with a Massachusetts Bay Transit Authority (MBTA) Green Line train. Obviously, the three lads, Parker Milner, 19, Patrick Wey, 19, and Philip Samuelsson, 18, and the Jeep lost. Luckily, none of three or the four other people in the Jeep were seriously hurt, and nobody on the train was hurt.
Too bad you likely won’t be able to say the same for their wallets, as all seven passengers face charges of being minors in possession of alcohol after it was determined Ol’ John Barleycorn was a factor in the crash. According to the operator of the MBTA train, three of the passengers allegedly tossed what looked like alcohol containers out the window. It doesn’t help that an MBTA spokesman also said a bottle of vodka was found in the Jeep. It also doesn’t help that three of the seven people in the Jeep fled the scene. And it certainly doesn’t help that MBTA has announced they will be seeking restitution for the damage to the Green Line vehicle, as well as the cost of running buses while the line was out of service.
While the three hockey players are likely to be suspended to start next season, all face some stiff legal and possibly financial issues stemming from the criminal charges and the possible restitution for the damage to the train. the more pressing matters are the impending legal ones. All seven teens have been charged with being minors in possession of alcohol, and could pay a hefty sum if it’s decided that they have to pay restitution to the MBTA.
All this begs a simple question: How the hell does the WCHA keep losing to a team that gets the only hockey players in the world who can’t handle their liquor?
And that last question begs an even bigger question: How the hell do you get hockey players who can’t handle booze in Boston, one of the drunkest cities on the planet?
Seriously, I have no idea where to start with this rant. Viking fans have always been a bit delusional; they have to be to be fans of a team that has given them the “Lucy holding the football for Charlie Brown treatment” more often than Lucy herself gave it to Charlie Brown.
But that delusion got turbo-charged once the sold they souls on that whole Brett Favre affair. Make no mistake, it is the Favre thing that took the Vi-queens from “Ehhh, Whatever” to “I hope every Viking fan gets sodomized by a syphilitic, eight-penised, laser-breathing space demon.”
Face it, you Purple Failure Eaters, The Brett Favre episode turned you into the whiniest fans ever. If you doubt that, all you have to do is refer back to the precious few days after the NFC Championship loss to the New Orleans Saints. You chose to ignore the fact your team committed five turnovers, you chose to ignore the fact that had it not been for those five turnovers you would have won by at least two touchdowns, and you chose to ignore that your offensive line sucked so bad that your quarterback, the sainted King Brett I, got his ass handed to him so badly that he panicked his way into that final deal-killing interception.
Instead of accepting the reality that you clearly didn’t deserve to win, instead you claimed the Saints “played dirty” and refused to accept the legitimacy of the Saints’ victory.
This exemplifies the fundamental lesson to which Viking fans have been oblivious for a half-century: Whining stands in the way of winning. Quit bitching about how the referees screwed you, quit bitching about how the other team cheated, and quit bitching about all the other small-change bullshit you point out rather than accept that your football team has never made the jump from good to great. In fact, the Vikings don’t even know the difference, let alone being able to make that last step.
The Favre episode was just the purest distillation of the Minnesota Viking credo: don’t bother to improve your team, rather just make a bunch of excuses. Face another thing, there a reason why the following list exists:
- 0-4 Super Bowl record
- No Super Bowl Appearance since 1977
- 4 NFC Championship Game losses since the last Super Bowl appearance
- The “Whizzinator”
- The Love Boat on Lake Minnetonka
While those things are in the past, they are just the mile markers on the road the Vikings are still on. Sunday night’s drubbing at the hands of the exceptionally tepid Chicago Bears proves that. By benching a quarterback they never should have signed in the first place, the Vikings are admitting they’ve made yet another mistake.
There’s an old cliche from the world of literature that those who do not understand history are doomed to repeat it. That should be the mantra of the Minnesota Vikings. With what has happened since the last Super bowl appearance in 1977, it is clear the Vikings do not understand the importance of the quarterback position. And now it continues with Christian Ponder.
Look at this list of the guys who have gotten under center for the Vikings since then (number of games started in parentheses).
- 1977 Fran Tarkenton (9) / Bob Lee (4) / Tommy Kramer (1)
- 1978 Fran Tarkenton (16)
- 1979 Tommy Kramer (16)
- 1980 Tommy Kramer (15) / Steve Dils (1)
- 1981 Tommy Kramer (14) / Steve Dils (2)
- 1982 Tommy Kramer (9) (Season shortened by strike)
- 1983 Steve Dils (12) / Tommy Kramer (3) / Wade Wilson (1)
- 1984 Tommy Kramer (9) / Wade Wilson (5) / Archie Manning (2)
- 1985 Tommy Kramer (15) / Wade Wilson (1)
- 1986 Tommy Kramer (13) / Wade Wilson (3)
- 1987 Wade Wilson (7) / Tommy Kramer (5) / Tony Adams (3) (Season shortened by strike)
- 1988 Wade Wilson (10) / Tommy Kramer (6)
- 1989 Wade Wilson (12) / Tommy Kramer (4)
- 1990 Rich Gannon (12) / Wade Wilson (4)
- 1991 Rich Gannon (11) / Wade Wilson (5)
- 1992 Rich Gannon (12) / Sean Salisbury (4)
- 1993 Jim McMahon (12) / Sean Salisbury (4)
- 1994 Warren Moon (15) / Sean Salisbury (1)
- 1995 Warren Moon (16)
- 1996 Warren Moon (8) / Brad Johnson (8)
- 1997 Brad Johnson (13) / Randall Cunningham (3)
- 1998 Randall Cunningham (14) / Brad Johnson (2)
- 1999 Jeff George (10) / Randall Cunningham (6)
- 2000 Daunte Culpepper (16)
- 2001 Daunte Culpepper (11) / Todd Bouman (3) / Spergon Wynn (2)
- 2002 Daunte Culpepper (16)
- 2003 Daunte Culpepper (14) / Gus Frerotte (2)
- 2004 Daunte Culpepper (16)
- 2005 Daunte Culpepper (7) / Brad Johnson (9)
- 2006 Brad Johnson (14) / Tarvaris Jackson (2)
- 2007 Tarvaris Jackson (12) / Kelly Holcomb (3) / Brooks Bollinger (1)
- 2008 Gus Frerotte (11) / Tarvaris Jackson (5)
- 2009 Brett Favre (16)
- 2010 Brett Favre (13) / Tarvaris Jackson (1) / Joe Webb (2)
- 2011 Donovam McNabb (6) / Christian Ponder (?)
That’s quite a list of shame, but it’s nothing compared to the list of horrible player personnel decisions the Vikings have made. It certainly helps to explain why a team with talent never seems to win anything.
Let’s take a look.
1963 – Ron Vanderkelen
Vanderkelen foreshadows the Vikings’ inability to scout quarterbacks, but it’s hard to blame them for this one. But in retrospect, it fits the pattern. The Vikes drafted Vanderkelen based largely on his insane record-breaking performance in the 1963 Rose Bowl.
Then, he backed that up with a huge performance in the 1963 Chicago College All-Star Game, which featured a college all-star team against the defending NFL champion Green Bay Packers. Vanderkelen’s 74-yard touchdown strike leads the college kids to a 20-17 over the Pack, and Vanderkelen was named the MVP.
The trouble was all this hype hid the fact that Vanderkelen wasn’t ever going to be an NFL quarterback, a fact he proved after the Vikings traded Fran Tarkenton in 1967, despite the fact he was the back-up for four years.
1969 – Gary Cuozzo
This is likely the beginning of the long Viking tradition of not understanding the quarterback position, and making bad moves in support of that. Minnesota coveted Cuozzo, who was the backup to Johnny Unitas and the first starting quarterback for the then expansion New Orleans Saints. The Vikings gave up a first-round draft pick to New Orleans for a guy who threw more interceptions than touchdowns (43 TD, 55 INT).
1971 – Leo Hayden
The Vikings were in need of a running back, and the best available guy, John Riggins, was already off the board. Hayden racked up 1,395 rushing yards with seven rushing TDs in three years at Ohio State. This is why the Vikings made Hayden their first-round pick in the 1971 Draft. The problem was Hayden never gained a single yard for the Minnesota Vikings, and they passed over two future Hall-of-Famers (LB Jack Ham, T Dan Dierdorf) to pick Hayden.
1972 – Jeff Siemon
When the Vikings traded QB Joe Kapp to the Patriots, they got the 10th overall pick in the 1972 draft, which they used to select Siemon, a linebacker from Stanford. Two picks later the Steelers selected future Hall-of-Famer RB Franco Harris
1982 – Darrin Nelson
This may be the worst. The Vikings take Nelson, an undersized running back out of Stanford, with the 7th overall pick; two of the next three picks are Hall-of-Famers G Mike Munchak and RB Marcus Allen.
1983 – Joey Browner
While Browner was a pretty solid safety, a team that needed a quarterback passed on Ken O’Brien and Dan Marino.
1989 and 1990 – Herschel Walker
In what may be the worst trade in sports history… the Vikings wound up with the most overrated running back in the NFL; in return they basically gave the Cowboys two Super Bowl championships.
In this deal, the Minnesota Vikings received:
- RB Herschel Walker
- Dallas’s 3rd round pick – 1990 (54th) (Mike Jones)
- San Diego’s 5th round pick – 1990 (116th) (Reggie Thornton)
- Dallas’s 10th round pick – 1990 (249th) (Pat Newman)
- Dallas’s 3rd round pick – 1991 (68th) (Jake Reed)
In return, the Dallas Cowboys received:
- LB Jesse Solomon
- LB David Howard
- CB Issiac Holt
- RB Darrin Nelson (traded to San Diego after he refused to report to Dallas)
- DE Alex Stewart
- Minnesota’s 1st round pick in 1990 (21st – traded this pick along with the 81st pick for the 17th pick from Pittsburgh to draft Hall-of-Famer Emmitt Smith)
- Minnesota’s 2nd round pick in 1990 (47th) (Alexander Wright)
- Minnesota’s 6th round pick in 1990 (158th – traded this pick to New Orleans, who drafted James Williams)
- Minnesota’s 1st round pick in 1991 (conditional) – (12) (Alvin Harper)
- Minnesota’s 2nd round pick in 1991 (conditional) – (38) (Dixon Edwards)
- Minnesota’s 2nd round pick in 1992 (conditional) – (37) (Darren Woodson)
- Minnesota’s 3rd round pick in 1992 (conditional) – (71) (traded to New England, who drafted Kevin Turner)
- Minnesota’s 1st round pick in 1993 (conditional) – (13th – traded this pick to the Philadelphia Eagles, who then to the Houston Oilers, who drafted Brad Hopkins)
If it weren’t enough that the Vikings gave up five established players, the Cowboys ended up with a total of six of Minnesota’s picks over the succeeding years. Just look at the names of the solid up to Hall-of-Fame players the Cowboys got as a result of this deal.
There’s more that aren’t even listed here. As a result stock-piling the draft picks, the Cowboys used them to make subsequent trades, one of which landed the first overall draft pick in 1991, which was used to draft Russell Maryland.
1993 – Robert Smith
Having Herschel Walker obviously whetted the Viking appetite for over-rated running backs. the Vikings used the 21st pick to take Smith out of Ohio State, who really never lives up to expectations. Smith’s eight-year career only ever sees him play a full season once, and while in that one season he actually looks like a first-round pick, meanwhile one can argue the Vikings get a much better bang for their buck by taking three-time Pro Bowl DT Dana Stubblefield with this pick.
1995 – Derrick Alexander
This one is easy to see as a huge mistake. The Vikings are in need of a big-time pass-rusher, which prompts them to take Alexander from Florida State with the 11th pick. With the very next pick, the Buccaneers select future Hall-of-Famer Warren Sapp.
1996 – Duane Clemens and Moe Williams
This is the same mistakes as the Vikes made in the previous season, yet it is compounded by who the Vi-queens passed on to take a player who garnered just 18.5 sacks in his entire career: WR Marvin Harrison, G Pete Kendall, and LB Ray Lewis.
A 3rd round pick from the University of Kentucky, Moe Williams only ever had one decent year in his career, 2003: when he posted 745 rushing yards and 644 receiving yards. But he never amounted to much more than a quasi-useful 3rd-down back, not something for which the Vikings should have passed over LB Tedy Bruschi or WR Terrell Owens.
1998 – Randy Moss
Sharpen you crayons, Viking Fans, because this is Part I of “Stuff you are going to write me hate mail about.”
Granted, Randy Moss was one of the most exciting players in NFL history, and he was for a time the best receiver in the business. Seriously, the guy had amazing hands and had some physical tools that defied belief…
There are a few facts which almost completely obviate his talents during his tenure in Minnesota. When you are assessing whether a player is correctly valued, EVERYTHING has to be taken into account, not just the “sexy” or the “feel-good” stuff.
FACT: Moss disappeared in the play-offs.
FACT: Moss only played half of his career in Minnesota; being traded away largely because he was such a douchebag.
FACT: Moss’ tendency to play “when he wanted to” completely eroded his over-all value. Not being a complete player when you have superior talent makes you inferior.
This is why the Vikings would have been better served taking 6-time All-Pro G Alan Faneca with this pick. Faneca was a 9-time Pro Bowler, one of the best at his position throughout his career, and not a total dick.
1999 – Daunte Culpepper and Dimitrius Underwood
Here’s Part II of “Stuff Viking Fans are going to write me hate mail about.” Face it, 1999 is the year of the over-rated quarterback, and the Vikes fell for it. In the first round of that year, five QBs were selected: Tim Couch, Donovan McNabb, Akili Smith, Culpepper, and Cade McNown.
The Vikes blew a 12th round pick on Culpepper, a lunch-wagon sized deep-ball artist from Central Florida. The trouble was that was all he could do; Culpepper never had a season worth mentioning without Randy Moss. The Vikings could have eliminated a lot of the offensive line problems they would have in the following decade as T John Tait, C/G Damien Woody, T Matt Stinchcomb, G Luke Petitgout, and T L. J. Shelton were all available.
But 1999 is a double feature; later in the first-round the Vikings inexplicably blow the 29th pick on Dimitrius Underwood, defensive lineman from Michigan State who was both highly regarded as being an above average player, but also came with a warning label that he had some serious psychological issues which were clearly going to be an impediment to his moving to the next level as a player. Underwood didn’t even make it through a week of training camp before the personal issues which would be his downfall became apparent.
2001 – Michael Bennett
If Wal-Mart sold a Guatemalan-made, low-quality knock-off of Robert Smith, it would be Michael Bennett. Bennett only lasts five seasons in Minnesota, during which time he only tops 500 rushing yards in a season once. The Vikes pass on WR Reggie Wayne, TE Todd Heap, and if they hadn’t made the Culpepper mistake two years prior, this is where they could have ended their quarterback problems by taking Drew Brees.
2002 – Bryant McKinnie
Where do we start here: Is it his nearly complete failure to live up to the hype which surrounded him? Or was it his complete failure to be more than overpaid, overweight bag of cold cuts? Or is it the staggering number of top-flight NFL players that were selected after him ( S Roy Williams, DE Dwight Freeney, WR Donte Stallworth, TE Jeremy Shockey, DT Albert Haynesworth, CB Philip Buchanon, S Ed Reed, and CB Lito Sheppard)?
2005 – Troy Williamson and Erasmus James
Taken with the 7th pick overall, Williamson was supposed to be a replacement for Randy Moss as he was a “vertical threat” blessed with monstrous natural speed. Too bad he couldn’t catch the damn ball.
Meanwhile, James was selected as a defensive end with the 18th overall pick from Wisconsin. In college, he was a one-man wrecking crew on the D-line, racking up 124 tackles (25.5 for losses), 18 sacks, 28 quarterback hurries, seven forced fumbles, two fumble recoveries, and six pass deflections. In the NFL, was just a wreck; he only notched five sacks in four years.
Worse yet, here is another example of the Culpepper effect. Because the Vikings were in love with this lard-ass, they passed TWICE on Aaron Rodgers.
2006 – Chad Greenway
A “role player at best” linebacker drafted in front of a “shutdown corner” (Antonio Cromartie), a legit “big-play” receiver (Santonio Holmes), and the best center in the game (Nick Mangold).
2008 – Tyrell Johnson and Jared Allen
There’s a reason why you never heard of Tyrell Johnson. The Vikings didn’t have a first-round pick in 2008 thanks in part to the exceptionally-stupid Jared Allen trade, but there was really no excuse for taking a safety from Arkansas State who would never be more than a role-player when play-makers like RB Matt Forte, WR DeSean Jackson, and RB Ray Rice were still on the board.
Let’s go back to that Jared Allen trade for a minute. This completes the “Stuff Viking fans will write me hate mail about” trilogy.
Kansas City sent Allen and a sixth-round draft pick in 2008 for the No. 17 overall pick, two third-round picks and a sixth-round pick. Kansas City turned the picks into T Branden Albert, RB Jamaal Charles, S DaJuan Morgan, and WR Kevin Robinson. The Vikings turned the Chiefs’ sixth-round pick into C John Sullivan.
In other words, the Vikings provided the Chiefs with a feature running back, a better-than-average offensive tackle, and two non-factors for a barely-mediocre center and a bloated contract for a one-dimensional pass-rusher who gets fat on C-list offensive line talent. More importantly, it’s time for a dirty little football secret: Sacks are the most over-rated stat in football.
Don’t believe that? Consider the following: Out of the top ten individual sack leaders going into this weekend’s schedule, only two play on play on a defense in the top ten in passing yards allowed; Cullen Jenkins (5 sacks) and Jason Babin (7 sacks). They both play for the Eagles, who are ranked 10th. Jared Allen leads the league with 8.5 sacks, and the Vikings rank 24th in passing yards allowed. Obviously, having a guy that piles up sacks doesn’t help your overall pass defense.
Now, for the final nail in the Jared Allen coffin – he gets paid a shockingly high amount of money for fractionally more than one sack per game. Jared Allen’s salary counts for $11.6 million against salary cap, or roughly $1.36 million per sack. That’s the bottom line, and that’s for a guy who only offers a pass-rush; Allen has proven he is worthless against the running game. There’s literally tons of quality defensive ends out there for far less money and who can actually play against the run.
2009 – Percy Harvin
I will admit, it may be early to say this, but this guy can’t get on the field with regularity and he underperforms when he does (but in his defense it’s not like the Vikings have had a quarterback to get him the ball). More worrisome is the guys developing a s real playmakers who the Vikings passed up, such as LB Clay Matthews, and WRs Hakeem Nicks and Kenny Britt.
2010 – Randy Moss (again)
You ran this guy out of town once, then literally gave away a 3rd round draft pick for 13 receptions. The worst part is with that pick, The Patriots may have taken the quarterback you should have.
The Christian Ponder era starts on Sunday, and while nobody knows what the future will bring, the Vikings past history makes me nervous. The problem is the Vikings emulate their fans; at the end of the day they are both decidedly Minnesotan.
Trust me, I lived there for 15 years. Those phlegmatic descendants of Northern Europeans who wore real horns on their helmets never, ever change their ways no matter how obviously wrong they are. They don’t trust anybody who doesn’t live within 150 miles of the town they were born in, they bitch endlessly about things they can easily be changed rather than changing them, and they ostracize anybody who dare challenge this Minnesota mantra. Naturally, their football team which wears painted-on horns emulates those characteristics.
Maybe I’m to blame. After all, I’m the one who is continuing to watch the re-runs of “Golden Girls” and expecting Rose to get smarter. Whether you are an individual or a team, if you’re going to make the jump from “good” to “great,” you have to address the key issues. You have to want to improve and you have to address the proper things.
If you are the Vikings or their fans, this mean confronting your own ineptitude and your own choke artist tendencies. If you do that, you’ll stop wasting your time calling your opponents bad people, blaming the referees, and generally brooding over yet another loss.
Who am I kidding? It’s not like it is ever going to change. For some people, the escalator of evolution quit running a while ago. Most Minnesotans are goofy as hell, so is their team, and I just have to live with it.
I cringe writing this, but I can’t hold my tongue on this completely ridiculous Hank Williams, Jr. situation any longer.
The six regular readers of this blog know that while I avoid politics, I am not afraid of strong or even controversial opinions. The “About Dubsism” page on this very blog outlines that. However, unfortunately there are times when politics strays into the sporting world, and nothing pisses me off more when that happens.
Just on the off chance you’ve been living under a rock for the past three days, Williams, Jr. made some comments during an appearance on Fox News which ultimately led to the end of his relationship with ESPN. Williams had been the provider of the opening musical montage to ESPN’s Monday Night For about the last 20 years, and it seems that ESPN felt his comments concerning President Obama were of sufficient enough nature to pull the plug on their relationship.
It would be very easy to simply dismiss this as a rambling from a drunken redneck country singer about a President with whom he disagrees politically. But there’s a lot more to this, and those are the parts that are really putting a burr under my saddle blanket.
First of all, Williams didn’t compare President Obama to Adolf Hitler. Even ESPN tacitly admits this in their press release today concerning this mess.
In the wake of Williams using an analogy involving Adolf Hitler and President Barack Obama to make a political point on the Fox News Channel, Williams’ “All My Rowdy Friends” will no longer be part of the MNF opening.
“We have decided to part ways with Hank Williams, Jr,” ESPN said in a statement. “We appreciate his contributions over the past years. The success of Monday Night Football has always been about the games and that will continue.”
The actual quote which supposedly got Williams into hot water was his comparison of Obama’s golf outing with House Speaker John Boehner: “It’d be like Hitler playing golf with (Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin) Netanyahu.” Williams didn’t call Obama “Hitler,” rather he making an analogy about fraternizing with ones’ enemy. This is an important distinction for a host of reason, not the least of which is it leads to the comment which really got Williams into trouble.
Asked to clarify, Williams said, “They’re the enemy,” adding that by “they” he meant Obama and Vice President Joe Biden.
It’s not the H-word which ended his ESPN days, it was the E-word; “enemy.” But it was the H-word that ESPN used to make a move I suspect they’ve been thinking about for a while. Let’s be honest, ESPN has been skewing toward a younger and demographically different audience for quite some time, but Williams remained popular in the all-important 18-49 white male group. This popularity is not reflected in the groups ESPN is targeting, but you simply just cannot get rid of a guy who fetches a significant number in the most important demographic in the sports broadcasting world.
This marks the point where three crucial things which are horribly wrong in this country intersect.
This problem is rampant in this discussion. First, there’s the broadcasters who illicit these sorts of controversial comments, ESPN included. Remember when the World Wide Leader sent Sal Paolantonio to sandbag a 75-year old dimwit into saying essentially that “Hitler made the trains run on time.” It is important to note that Paolantonio’s question which got Schott to say the remarks which got her in trouble has been omitted from the transcript. The original question was along the lines of “But Hitler did some good things, right?”
This is important because it means ESPN has no problem illiciting a controversial comment, then acting horrified when it happens. The entire Rush Limbaugh incident is another prime example.
Remember the short-lived tenure of Rush Limbaugh as an ESPN football analyst? Regardless of your opinion of Limbaugh, anyone who has ever listened to him would agree that he is controversial. This, of course, is exactly why ESPN hired him. Of course, the minute he says something controversial, ESPN sprints into hand-wringing mode and essentially forces him to resign for doing exactly that for which he was hired. Not to mention that the comments he made about Donovan McNabb and the NFL are as true today as they were when Limbaugh said them in 2003.
Ever since the Marge Schott incident, simply uttering the word “Hitler” is grounds to get clipped in the media in this country. Calling Obama an “enemy” is what made Williams an enemy to the leadership and politics of ESPN; had he never used the word “Hitler” they wouldn’t have been able to sensationalize his comments.
But that’s not the only hypocrisy going around this issue. For all you folks that are waving the Williams flag right now, you are the same people who wanted the Dixie Chicks heads on a platter when they bad-mouthed George W. Bush. For all of you who are so piously screaming about how calling somebody “Hitler” is completely unnacceptable, you spent eight years lobbing that verbal grenade at Bush as well.
Time for a hard-core dose of reality…whether its the Dixie Chicks or Hank Williams, Jr., who gives a frog’s watertight ass about what some dipshit singer thinks? Have we become so thin-skinned as a nation that we take personal offense to somebody who simply has a different opinion? And then we wonder why most of the world thinks the average American is a complete pussy.
In all seriousness, the road to enlightenment is not through stifling speech, rather by encouraging it. That was the spirit of the 1st Amendment as now gutted by the “politically correct” police. After all, the 1st Amendment was written to protect that which was unpopular; you don’t need it to safeguard “my what lovely weather we’re having.”
Forget that lofty load of Civics-class crap about “freedoms,” there’s a practical purpose which is far more important. The intelligentsia would tell you the free exchange of ideas requires freedom of speech, yet they are the same class who have made college campuses hotbeds of “political correctness.” The real reason is nothing but pure exposure; when you let everybody speak their peace, the idiots and the lunatics will expose themselves, thus eliminating the guesswork.
Think of it this way…what would happen if the censors at ESPN bought the site on which you are reading this blog? You probably wouldn’t be reading this blog.
This is yet another example where somebody misinterprets the 1st Amendment. In this case, Williams show us he is an idiot whose opinion simply isn’t credible, with the sole exception of the subject of being a country singer.
Williams released a statement on his won website saying it was he who left the relationship with ESPN.
“After reading hundreds of e-mails, I have made MY decision,” he wrote. “By pulling my opening Oct 3rd, You (ESPN) stepped on the Toes of The First Amendment Freedom of Speech, so therefore Me, My Song, and All My Rowdy Friends are OUT OF HERE. It’s been a great run.”
That’s a nice bit of posturing, but it misses two key points. First, the 1st Amendment; the entire Constitution for that matter, exists between you and the government, not you and an employer. “Freedom of speech” means the government can’t throw your ass in prison for something you said.
Since the Constitution has no bearing between two non-governmental entities, it is important to note “freedom of speech” does not include “freedom from repercussion.” You can say whatever you want, but so can I. If I also happen to be your employer, I am well within my rights to say “you’re fired.”
Here’s what it all boils down to. Having freedom of speech means having the balls to live with the consequences of what you said. Nobody feels sorry for the guy who got punched in the mouth for calling somebody’s mother a whore. It also means that nobody has a right to not be offended; if you hear something you don’t like, that’s your problem. There’s no such thing as freedom of speech ONLY for what you like.