Friday, October 12, 2007

Tony Fucking Romo? No Way!

Maybe it was the first time I saw an ad for the new season of Inside the NFL and the prospect of watching that shit festival shut down my barely serviceable to begin with brain in a hot minute. Maybe it’s the fact that Friday Night Lights has somehow managed to last nearly a full year after I Cut it and continues to get rave critical reviews despite the fact that last I heard ( I swear I don’t watch that crap) somebody had murdered somebody and dumped their body in a river. Ahh, high school football, it never changes. Maybe that’s why I didn’t begin to post to this mess when the season began. Maybe I figured a good old-fashion schellacking of the Chicago Bears would wake up my thirst for half-assed football punditry.



Alas, it didn’t come, and in fact it left me wondering what would the future bring for my Chargers? I was stumped, but surely we’d come out strong against the hated Boston Patriots in a revenge match-up for the ages. Who fears Randy Moss? Didn’t we knock that guy out for eight games just a couple of years ago? This game would stoke our fires and begin TBE’s march towards back to back MVP awards. Still, the word around town was that this Pats team was tougher, faster, stronger-basically bionic-so I steeled myself for the worst imaginable outcome. A close loss. I could handle that. We’d fight them tooth and nail, and they might come out ahead in the end, but that would just give us deadly motivation to return the favor of an early play-off exit a few short months from now. Then, the unthinkable happened.



Twenty minutes into regulation the game was far out of hand. We had been dealt our shit early and it never got any better. Two games into a season is hardly time to give up or toss oneself to the side of the road before the bandwagon careens off a ten thousand foot cliff, but certainly that game sounded an alarm. In fact, that game was surely the most ultimate of football clich├ęs. The eye-opener. The fucking wake-up call to end all wake-up calls. Somebody had to pay. That somebody, through a cruel twist of cheesehead fate, would surely be the Green Bay Packers. So sad. I like Favre. He’s a guy who truly loves the game and plays it like a kid playing Pop Warner. He didn’t deserve what was coming. To be the nearly expired cheddar in a Merriman-Phillips grilled cheese sandwich. He deserved a more dignified send-off, but the National Football League can be a cruel mistress. Or can it? Oh, cursed twist!!!



Where art thou, Greg Jennings? Oh, there thy art. Right where Donnie Edwards used to stand. But surely a linebacker by any other name would cover so sweet. Nay, fuck you AJ. So what? Green Bay is off to a hell of a start. Favre is a crafty veteran. There is no shame in losing a hard fought battle against a grizzled veteran determined to take one last earnest shot at the promised land. Good game to you, Sir Brett, you are a feisty geezer, and we shall vacate your lawn post-haste. 1-2 and it’s time to right the ship. And what is this layed out before us?



The lowly Chiefs on an ornamental silver plater. Nay, a fucking alter! A sacrifice to our underachieving football machine. It’s time to grease the wheels with this bountiful offering. Thank you Lord, for this gift we are about to receive. Get out the carving knives this is going to be brutal. Surely, we can afford to leave some players at home. TBE and First Down Gates can watch live via satellite from Hawaii while they pick out the best bikini learing beach digs for Pro Bowl weekend.



Fuck yeah! I mean, that’s Damon fucking Huard out there and he’s no Rex Grossman. Oh shit, he’s really no Rex Grossman, but Dwayne Bowe might be Greg Jennings. Okay, fuck this shit, I still can’t write about it. Norv Turner is what we thought he was, Ted Cotrell wears a hockey helmet, and why didn’t anyone tell me that Ron Rivera was a lazy Mexican? So that’s it. 1-3 and we’re headed to Denver. Fucking Denver sucks, but you just fucking know that they’re going to jam it up our collective ass, because they’re fucking Denver and we suck and next week we can all start doing our laundry on Sundays and show up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to work on Monday. Football is a lie. Girls are better than boys, and cats have our best interests at heart. Dogs are the real villains and they are fucking untamable beasts I tell you.



And then it happened. Finally the true Chargers MVP stepped up to the plate. Or, more accurately, the mound. That’s right, I’m talkin’ ‘bout Trevor Hoffman. The Denver Rockies beat him up bad, and it’s seems the Bolts didn’t take it too well. The Padres are like their kid brother. Sure, he’s annoying, and always trying to tag along and not living up to his potential cause mom and dad spoiled him too much, but God damn it, he’s still their little brother and nobody fucks with him but us!



So the Chargers proceed to beat the bully to a bloody pulp, finally sort of showing the dominance that’s been expected all along, but really more exposing how shitbox Denver is. Fucking Shit Ponies. Now the Chargers head into the final week before the bye to battle the…um…Raiders? For first place in the West? Seriously? Hold on, lemme check this out……………..Wow. That’s right. I don’t think the Chargers have played the Raiders in any even remotely meaningful football game since the very early 80s. That’s crazy. We’re going to fucking destroy them.

Anyway, the real reason I chose to start writing again actually has very little to do with the Chargers at all. It does, however, have everything to do with a certain Tony Romo. That’s right, Tony Romo. I can only imagine that if you walk into a room where Tony Romo is holding court, and you are wearing a press badge, Romo will give the most you the most amazing blow job you ever had in your life. How else can you explain the fact that he has been more or less canonized by the media following a performance where he threw 5 picks and fumbled the ball away one more time for posterity? Yeah, I know they came back and all, but this wasn’t some great football team a la the Kansas City Chiefs or the Green Bay Packers, this was barely a football team at all. It was the Bills. You know, from Buffalo? Yeah, those guys. The ones who play a wide receiver at corner. And not like a Troy Brown, I’ve played in the NFL for 25 years so I’m pretty good at football wide receiver. I mean, an I don’t recall this guy ever actually playing a down in professional football wide receiver. Turned DB. So, my question is, does anybody really think the Cowgirls are going to “hang” with the Patriots this Sunday? I guess ESPN and everybody else have to play it up like that, but they really have me convinced that they believe it. What they don’t have me convinced of is that Tony Romo and Terrell Owens are capable of preparing Tom Brady and Randy Moss’ jocks for gameday. What with Gold Bond medicated and whatnot. I do, however find it hard to believe that the Patriots can keep scoring in the 30s. Patriots 45, Cowgirls 17.

That was hard. That was definitely something close to praise of the Pats and I am not proud of that. But, really, I was trying to point out that the NFC has a bit of a way to go if their saviors are eeking out comebacks against the Bills.

So, there it is. A post. I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope that appeases those of you who’ve been kind enough to request the return of my presence here. Now, quit calling me. Here's some Charlize Theron in a bikini. Totally underrated hotty cause she made herself ugly for that movie where she made herself ugly.



Go Bolts!!!

1 comment:

Blogust said...

Awesome job. Glad to see you back.