So as this Ray Rice thing (I debated for a minute about whether to call it a "saga," but decided against it. I have some standards.) becomes less about Ray Rice beating the hell out of a woman in an enclosed elevator, and more about who knew what, where, and when like it was an episode of Law & Order, and as Adrian Peterson ties a rope to his infant son's leg and drags him behind his moving vehicle for crying at 5AM, something sort of flew under the radar. It was the same basic concept as the Rice situation (guy hits his girlfriend/wife), but since nobody outside Johnathan Dwyer's immediate family has ever heard of him, it got only a few mentions on SportsCenter and Bleacher Report and a small assortment of equally useless mediums. So, Dwyer.
I said during the heat of the Rice situation that the reasons, the whys, they don't matter. As the details of Jonathan Dwyer's actions are coming to light amid the flood of anti-Goodell torch-bearing, calls to fire John Harbaugh's mother from her day job, and the impending suspension of Bernard Pierce and Justin Forsett just to be on the safe side, I came to the realization that, in Dwyer's case, the whys do matter. Do they EVER matter.
So how do you improve on perfection? How can you take the disgusting action of beating your woman in an enclosed space, knocking her unconscious, and dragging her basically by the hair out into the open in view of strangers while explaining to them that she'd just had too much to drink, and somehow go even further into the realm of disgusting crap? How? Well, let's try adding a subtle element of RAPE to the situation.
Reports are saying that Jonathan Dwyer planted a headbutt on his wife's face, breaking her nose, after she refused to have sex with him. It really makes you wonder what he did to her afterward, doesn't it? And then, the next day, he punched her in the face for seemingly no reason. THEN, when she tried to call the police, he took her phone from her and destroyed it. THEN HE THREW A SHOE AT HIS TODDLER SON. Luckily the kid wasn't hurt. And luckily, unlike Janay Palmer, Dwyer's wife had the good sense to get the hell out of town after this happened. The Arizona Cardinals did that thing to him that the Vikings did to Adrian Peterson, where he can't play football or go to the stadium or team practices, but he's not actually suspended. For now, at least. He's probably three seconds away from being cut at any given moment, and nobody will give two hooeys either way when it happens, because Dwyer kinda sucks as a runningback. I know, it's really unfortunate that that would even be a consideration, but it is. He sucks, and he's a friggin' psychopath. This won't take long. Serial date rapist Darren Sharper at least had the courtesy to, y'know, not violently assault his victims the day after. But fuck him anyway.
No matter what happens for the rest of the 2014 NFL season, it will probably go down as the worst season in NFL history. That year they had the strike (and the Redskins won the Super Bowl) will be looked upon with more fondness than this one will, and rightfully so. I've confided in friends and fellow barflies that if the Redskins can't win the Super Bowl this season, I want to see the Arizona Cardinals do it, because I know they're good enough. Even if that happens, though, 2014 will be the year of Ray Rice. The year of Adrian Peterson. The year Roger Goodell hung himself in his bathroom twenty minutes after his disgraceful and long-overdue resignation.
And just like before, nobody will give a rat's patootie about Jonathan Dwyer, though he turned out to be the worst of them all.
See you guys Monday.
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