I've long since been a critic of one local beat writer, the Mr. Nick Canepa. Today is probably the most egregious display of his excuse pandering on behalf of the inappropriately moniker-ed "Godfather". As much as I hate to do it, and really, I'm truly fucking beginning to hate having to break this shit down repeatedly to prove how silly these people are, this is fucking atrocious. I'll pull the most obvious fucking fabrications for your perusal...
First, as always, the title...
Chargers' real problems aren't Norv or A.J.
Ah, yes. Nick must have gotten his weekly dressing down from the Godfather sometime late Monday afternoon. And off we go...
The Chargers, now expected by torch-toting angry villagers to be the Packers of the '60s, the Steelers of the '70s, the 49ers of the '80s, the Cowboys of the '90s and the Patriots of the 2000s, are sitting in a pot of water in this town, and it isn't lukewarm. Some anger is justified, but most of it is founded on emotion and the hatchet-thinking that every defeat calls for a Spanish Inquisition.
This is the same man that wrote earlier this season that he was not afraid to declare the Chargers his Super Bowl favorite this season. Conveniently, his archives are not the easiest to navigate to pull that gem for your enjoyment. Believe me it exists, when I find it, you will all be notified via skywriting. Far be it from the fans to believe and want what has been repeatedly been reported about this team, by you Mr. Canepa. Now we're torch toting angry villagers demanding Super Bowls and cures for cancer.
The coach
Norv Turner could go unbeaten, win the Super Bowl, pull people out of burning buildings and find a cure for cancer and the villagers still would drag out the guillotine. I wonder if he can win here – even if he wins. Like Marty Schottenheimer, Norv may not be popular until fans can't stand his replacement.
Hi, rhetoric? Meet hyperbole. I like to think that is was public outcry that gave A.J., excuse me, The Godfather, the shelter from the storm he needed to fire a largely successful coach with which he had very public feuds. What A.J. wanted and what Marty certainly was not, was a captain for his custom built Super Bowl ship that Marty continually slammed into the rocks like a drunken sailor. A.J., installing his puppet yes man fully expected that nothing would change. Low and behold, Norv's well deserved reputation for being a football fucking monkey team destructor has fully been realized. A self fulfilling prophecy if you will when your record as a head coach is fucking awful and continues to be so.
Turner isn't perfect, but look around. Most of Norv's contemporaries better be able to swim if they plan to walk on water. He's 2-2, folks. It's October. I got an email the other day saying Bill Callahan should be the next Chargers coach. Sigh. That's what I'm up against.
I love the ability of this guy to gloss over the two and two record as if it's no big deal. It's October! Pay no mind that the undefeated division leader is coming to town at 5-0. The email quote is quite precious to me. Nick, I get tons of fucking stupid emails every day. The difference is, I don't use them to support and invalid point when they are fucking inexplicably fucking stupid. Moving on...
But, remember what it was like before he took over. I know it isn't easy, but don't write me saying the late John Butler built this team. It's Smith's club, almost 100 percent. His players have won three straight division titles, four of the last five. So he's a tough guy. So he has an ego. You can't be good at what you do if you think you stink.
I wonder what kind of knee pads Nick uses when he drops to his knees each Monday afternoon for The Godfather's daily fellating. You're right, this is Smith's club, he needs to take some fucking responsibility for this shitshow. Three straight division titles are grand, particularly when the division was about as competitive as the 3rd grade Hopscotch Championships. Our 2008 Division Title came courtesy of Denver's historic choke job. Seeing how most of these writers up to and including you Mr. Canepa, not only had us penciled in for the division but the Super Bowl, you can fuck yourself if you think I'm buying this A.J. apologist thing you are working on here.
It's not the coaches fault they can't run the ball? Ummm, yeah, to some degree it fucking is. When you've run the ball through four games for 215 yards and 12 first downs you've got a fucking philosophy problem. When you run the ball off tackle on first down for the entirety of the first half of each game, you don't fool anyone. When you choose to run it up the middle off tackle on fourth down in a game winning situation against Baltimore and you fail, it's certainly on the fucking coaches. When the murderer from said Baltimore team posing as a linebacker vocalizes that they saw that play all game and on fucking tape in the week leading up to the game, you've got a fucking coaching problem. When you run the ball for fucking 16 yards against the Steelers, you've got a fucking coaching problem. I say that all adds up to some fucking coaching issues Nick. Coaching issues that can't be ignored. Don't be so fucking myopic.
Sweet fucking Christ, I thought that would make me feel better. But I assure you it did not. Just remember how the media, namely the Nick Canepa's and the A.J. Smith's of the world view the fans of this squad. It's all right there in the article. We are hayseed fuckwits in their eyes and have no business criticizing the masterpiece that has been assembled here. So shut your fucking mouths you football ignorant asshole and worship at the altar of what is football in San Diego.
5 comments:
Fucking glorious breakdown, CJ. I'm glad you took care of this because if I spend to much time dissecting Canepa, I'm afraid my brain will shut down.
One more note here. Canepa and Acee love to point out that a 2-2 record does not a season end. However, it's not as if we were taking care of business in those two victories we've racked up so far this year, either. You're going to hear a lot of bullshit about a win being a win and whatnot, but our poor performances in ALL FOUR games is what worries me. I don't think it's as unwarranted as Canepa and Acee seem to think. Both writers have a tendency to talk down to their readers as though we are kindergarteners trying to wrap our minds around algebra. And while football may be a bit more complex than the average fan realizes, when things are as bad as they are and have been for at least a couple of years now, it's plain as the nose on your big, fat ass-kissing faces you fucking hacks! Don't try to tell me that I'm blowing things out of proportion or imagining doomsday scenarios that aren't there. The numbers speak for themselves. And you can go fuck yourselves with that postseason success bullshit! We had no business being in one of those postseason, for one, and CORRELATION DOES NOT IMPLY CAUSATION for another! Just because this talent managed to pull out some games, doesn't mean the coaches deserve any real credit, we were regarded as the best SQUAD in football. Eventually, even Marty would likely have won a game or two with those guys. Let's draw from a larger pool In the regular season games since Norv Turner has arrived the Chargers are 21-15 for a win percentage of approximately .583. In the 36 regular season games prior to that? 26-12 for .722. That tells a little clearer story. All the playoff success in the world will do nothing for AJ, Turner and Co. if they are not in the postseason to begin with.
I would also like to emphasize the implied point here that if we all got off Norv and A.J.'s backs and let them continue to proceed without criticism, they would not only win that promised Super Bowl but cure cancer and prevent all future incidents of rape. Starting next weekend.
Always insightful analysis, but such language should be reserved for the sandbar on game day. I just have one question. Are you ready for the donkey show.
No, I'm pretty sure it's been vocalized here just how not ready for the Donkey Show we are.
And yeah, that's totally Hawk from the Buck Rogers TV series with Gil Girard. Effin' sweet.
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