King Of Kings

Top of the morning, folks.  The last few weeks have been a blur; due to everyday responsibilities and seemingly endless fatigue, I haven't really had the time or energy to do my Monday Sunday Roundup the last few weeks.  My bad, yo.  Also, another thing has been keeping me from it:  as you know, Juan and I are immersed in resuscitating the Oakland Raiders franchise as their co-head coaches.  Righting a sinking ship takes a lot of time and effort.  So, yeah.  There's your explanation.  The following is the transcript from our press conference, following Sunday's loss to Kansas City.

(Coach Adame and Coach Teal enter the press room.  Coach Teal hurries to his seat, talking on his cell phone.  Snippets of his conversation can be heard throughout the press conference.  Coach Adame is a little slower and more deliberate.  Five minutes later, he takes a seat at the table in front of the microphone.)

Coach Adame:  OK, fuckbags, let me have it.  You saw the same thing I just did, so let's not pretend we don't know what's up.  First question.

Reporter #1:  My question is for Coach Teal.  Coach Teal, following last week's surprise win over San Francisco, how does it feel to come down in such a decisive fashion to the Chiefs, whom you defeated earlier in the season?

Coach Teal: (scowls, waves dismissively at the reporter, jerks his thumb toward Coach Adame) (says into the phone) ... and I know you took my cinnamon roll too!

Reporter #1:  OK, Coach Adame, I'll address the same question to you. 

Coach Adame:  Hey, you're Bryant Gumbel!  Man, they sent the big guns to this press conference, didn't they?  I knew this shit would happen one day!  Who's next, Larry King?

Greg Gumbel:  Actually, Coach, no. I'm Greg Gumbel, here on behalf of CBS.  Bryant is my brother.  Anyway, my question-

Coach Adame:  OK, Bryant, I'ma let you finish.  But before I do, just let me say two things:  first, this guy is the only reporter allowed to ask us questions this week.  I mean, shit, that's Bryant Gumbel.  Secondly, I would like to address last week's press conference.  Last week, I asked that you all refer to me as Daddy J.  That no longer applies today.  See, you know that saying that a team will take on the personality of its coach?  I thought about it and realized that, in the end, Daddy J just wasn't cutting it.  It's not bold enough.  It lacks toughness.  So, from here on, I will answer to, and only to, Big Daddy J, King of Kings.  You're up, Bryant.

Greg Gumbel:  Greg.  Anyway, Coach Adame, was it a letdown to lose so decisively to the Chiefs after defeating them earlier in the season, and after your win against the 49ers?

Coach Adame: (stares blankly at Gumbel, begins looking around the room as though expecting another question.  He looks at Coach Teal, who looks back and gives a slight shrug)

Coach Teal:  .. better not be ordering room service, either!  You ain't even that hot!

Greg Gumbel:  Coach Adame, would you like me to repeat the question?

Coach Adame: (silence)

Coach Teal: .. yeah, hold on a sec. (puts his hand over the speaker) WHO THE HELL IS THIS MORON TALKING TO?

Greg Gumbel: *sigh* Big Daddy J, King of Kings.  Was this loss a letdown after last week's win and the previous win over the Chiefs?

Coach Adame:  Nahhhh, not really.  What you saw out there wasn't what you think you saw, Bryant.  See, Coach Teal and I are looking to the future.  It's so bright that we need shades.  We're gonna do so many big things for this team that we're gonna get big-ass platinum statues of our heads right in the middle of downtown Los Angeles.  It's gonna be so epic that they're gonna build duplicate statues in San Antonio, just to be on the safe side.  But you can't fuck shit up on that scale with a #4 draft pick, can you Bryant?  So what you thought you saw today as a 20-something point loss was actually the first shot fired in the war that Coach Teal and I are going to win.  Decisively.  The whole LA Metro population is gonna be lined up all the way to Fresno, waiting to lick the sweat off our balls.  You got another question?  (opens a bag of Peanut M&M's and starts eating them)

Greg Gumbel:  Big Daddy J, King of Kings, what do you and Coach Teal think of the rumors that your general manager, Reggie McKenzie, is likely to be fired after the season?

Coach Teal: .. think I give a shit what your mom says?  That bitch never coached in the NFL!

Coach Adame:  Maaaaaan, I like Reggie, he's a helluva dude.  But did you know he traded a draft pick.. and ACTUAL DRAFT PICK.. for Matt Schaub?  You remember how hard the world laughed when the Colts traded a first-round pick for Trent Richardson?  This is like that times seven.  My man Reggie makes poor decisions.  He's the one that put me and Coach Teal in this mess we're in now.  But hey, Bryant, it's cool, man.  I'm sure he'll land on his feet somewhere.

Greg Gumbel: Coach Adame, I'm Greg Gumbel, not Bryant Gumbel.  Anyway, some observers felt that you lacked your usual fire on the sidelines today.  They said that you seemed far more low-key than you've been since you and Coach Teal took over the team.  Do you think that had any effect on your team's performance?

Coach Adame: (stares at Greg Gumbel for 42 seconds in silence)

Greg Gumbel: (rubs bridge of nose) Big Daddy J, King of Kings, did your sideline manner effect your team's performance today?

Coach Adame:  Look, Brad, I'm gonna level with you:  I'm high as fuck right now.  Have been since about 8 this morning.  Josh Gordon told me the Midwest has some of the best shit in the country for the best prices.  I'm Mexican, I don't even really know what good weed is, but this is some good goddamn weed.  So maybe I called a few too many pass plays.  Blame the weed, Bret.  If you coached the Oakland Raiders, you'd be high as hell all the time too.

Coach Teal:  ... bullshit, all I gotta do is call your parole officer!  I know you're on your third strike already!

Greg Gumbel:  Coach, one last question.  You mentioned the draft earlier.  Would you consider drafting Marcus Mariota, the 2014 Heisman Trophy winner, only a year after you drafted Derek Carr?

Coach Adame: (yawns, looks around the room silently)

Greg Gumbel:  Look, I'm not doing this anymore.  You two have to be the most unprofessional coaches in the hist-

Coach Teal:  (hangs up phone, yells at the top of his lungs, startling everyone)  BIG DADDY J, KING OF KINGS!  

Coach Adame:  Aaaaand he's back.

Greg Gumbel:  Coach Teal, thanks for joining us.  I'll address that question to you.  Is Marcus Mariota in your draft plans for 2015?

Coach Teal:  Holy shit, you're Bryant Gumbel!  I'm a big fan of yours!  Hey Juan, look, it's Bryant Gumbel!  Man, who did you piss off to draw THIS assignment, huh?  I thought you were working for Showtime now?  You know what, it doesn't matter.  It's nice to see they sent a REAL reporter.  Who are they gonna send next, Larry King?  I mean, you're no Suzy Kolber, but neither was Suzy Kolber after I got done with her last week, wink wink!  Anyway, Bryant, to answer your question, that's what she said.

Greg Gumbel:  Best of luck in 2015, gentlemen.

Coach Adame: (passes out and starts snoring, Coach Teal steals his Peanut M&M's)

And that'll do it for this week.  See ya when I see ya!

Juan and Zane Go to Oakland - Conquering Heroes

Good evening, ladies and sperms. Welcome back to the only place you should ever be if you need insightful and enlightening sports banter and…… who the fuck am I kidding. I know why you’re here. YOU know why you’re here. So why don’t we just get to it already.

As you well know, Zane and I have been running a series of posts of us taking the coaching reigns of the Oakland Raiders for your entertainment. We are the co-coaches of this delightful mess out here in the dirty toilet bowl named Oakland. We don’t even have designated responsibilities. We just go out there and wreck shit. Kick ass. Take names. That’s what we do.

Whatever we’re doing, it’s working. Ever since Coach Teal and I have taken over the team full-time, our shitty little Raiders have won two out of three games, including Sunday’s straight gangsta beatdown of the Harbaugh-led San Francisco 49ers 24-13. We’re not going to get into what happened last week versus the Rams because that goes against anything and everything we stand for.

Game is over. We exchange pleasantries with Jim Harbaugh at the 50 yard line. By exchange pleasantries, I mean that we nut-punched him and wished him good luck at Michigan next year. The players are in the locker rooms, except for Derek Carr. He’s currently on the podium addressing the media regarding his finest performance as an NFL rookie thus far. And the shenanigans begin.

Derek Carr: We have been playing good football these last few weeks and it shows. The offensive line has been doing a good job protecting me. I've been able to hit open rece-

*commotion ensues*

Coach Teal: Kid... shut the fuck up and get the fuck out of here. It's Uncle Z and Daddy J time now bitches.

*Collective gasp. A snicker or two*

Coach Adame: Listen, bitches. You are now in the presence of true greatness. In the name of Al Davis and all else that is unholy, look at Uncle Z's big ass gold chain. That thing is worth more than all of your pitiful lives put together. It looks like a unicorn took a shit and it wrapped around his neck and fit to glorious perfection. And the sunglasses? You buck fucks are not worthy enough to stare into the eyes of an American winner. This man made Colin Kaepernick look and play like Muppet Gonzo. He made this big-nosed freak think he was going against 11 Richard Shermans out there. Since we are now better than Lombardi and Landry and the hoodied asshole from New England, Uncle Z is gonna go donkeyfuck Suzy Kolber and impregnate her elbow. So y'all need to hurry this up.

Coach Teal: Thank you Daddy J, but you're the real winner here. I mean, look at your Raiders' cap and Starter jacket. You look like one of those bad asses in the background of an Ice Cube video. I knew that was your 64 Impala sitting on spokes in the parking lot. You somehow made Derek Carr into something that resembles a quarterback. You made that Rivera kid forget his name was Mychal and he went for over 100 receiving yards. Why do the dipshits in the front office even care about Harbaugh? We don't need him. Maybe that asshole can coach special teams or something. This is our show now. First question!

Reporter 1: Coach Te-

Coach Teal: Hey, asshole, can you not HEAR?! The names are now Uncle Z, and Daddy J. Unless you want me to start calling you General Man-tits, I suggest you straighten up.

Reporter 1: Sorry, Uncle Z. How were you able to bounce back from that 52-0 beating you took from the Rams last week?

Coach Teal: Listen, fucker. How were you able to bounce back from that beating your mom's ass took from that mountain goat? Shit happens. Actually, you can't blame us for that one. We spent the first half of that game counting our lucky stars that the Texans drafted Jadeveon Clowney before our front office decided to fuck that pick up. Did you hear? He had microfracture surgery on his vagina the other day. Glad we dodged that bullet. Anyway, when we came back from getting shitfaced in the parking lot with a couple of the fine homeless Oakland folk, better known as "Raider Nation", we were already down 95-0, so we did what we had to do. Daddy J noticed that Jeff Fisher would lick his lips everytime he looked in Derek's direction. And since he is a child molesting pervert, we got Derek the hell out of there. We threw Musty Matt Schaub out there and he didn't disappoint. Apparently, Fisher stopped "coaching" (makes air quotes) in disgust because all of a sudden the Rams started to look like a real football team because they pick-sixed Matt's dumbass and caused him to lose a fumble. That is otherwise known as "another day in the office for Mr Schaub. Listen, can someone get Daddy J a glass of water? He seems to be losing his breath from all of the laughing and crying he's doing. Anyway, I told the team that if they embarrass me like that again, I was going to get Sarah Palin and Rick Perry to give them motivational speeches of how they were able to become governors of two states from the toilets they crawled out of. Guess what turkey lips, it WORKED.

Reporter 2: Daddy J... are you alright?

Coach Adame: Look man, I was just going through a lot of emotions right there. Uncle Z was just talking about Schaub and I started feeling all sorts of things. I'm from fucking Houston, you know. You got eyes. You saw what happened. Fuck you.

Reporter 2: My apologies. Derek Carr had his best game today. What do you contribute that to?

Coach Adame: I contribute that to showing him naked pictures of your mom and telling him that this could be your future if you don't get your head out of your ass. He cried a lot afterwards, but he manned the fuck up today. But seriously, look, we know who his brother is. We know Derek is destined for earth-shattering failure. There is no stopping that. The light shines on a dog's hairless, mangy ass sometimes. And today was this mutt's lucky day. It's now in his nature to hate the 49ers, so he channeled his inner Ray Rice and Adrian Peterson and he got to punching and a-switching. The kid was an animal today. The kid looked like what Gonzo Kaepernick was supposed to look like if Gonzo didn't inhale Candlestick Park through that nose. Speaking of that nose, I think one of your reporter friends is stuck in his right nostril. Y'all might want to check that out. Anyway, the kid looked great. And Uncle Z is right, I grabbed that Rivera kid by the face mask and told him that today, his first name was spelled M-I-C-H-A-E-L, not M-Y-C-H-A-L. Lo and behold, he went over a hundred yards today. That shit was no accident. Latavius Murray did OK today. I told him to chill out averaging 20 yards a carry because he might get attention and think that he can just up and leave one day. Fuck that shit. Oak-town for life, bitch.

Reporter 3: Do you think this team has turned the corner?

Coach Teal: What do you mean turn the corner? I think I saw your wife turn tricks around the corner the other night. I had to turn her down because she is not my type. Look, we're still the Raiders. We are a dumpster fire mixed with a 3 legged donkey. We are going to Kansas City next Sunday where the average weight there is measured in tons. I'm afraid that the locals will see us and mistake us for lunch and dinner. Plus I think the Chiefs are mad at us for whoopin' their ass a few weeks ago. They are out for revenge. They might even let Alex Smith throw the ball 9 yards downfield next Sunday.

Coach Adame: Fuck Kansas City. How the fuck are you named Kansas City and be in Missouri? Retards. That's as bad as Dallas being in Texas when you know those fuckbags belong in Oklahoma. I'm not worried about the fucking Chiefs and their stupid world-record crowd noise. Imagine how loud they would be if they had a real team to cheer for. I think they are so loud now because they keep showing fried chicken discounts on their scoreboard. Bunch of fat asses. Speaking of fat asses, Andy Reid has seven of them. We have a plan to distract him from executing any kind of plan. Uncle Z and I are going to dress up as a turkey leg and an extra-large meat lover's pizza. Once he sees that, he'll forget he has Jamal Charles again and just put the motherfucker on autopilot and have Alex Smith throw the ball 85 times, all 85 passes being short of the first-down marker. We're gonna fuck them up again.

Coach Teal: Look assholes, as Daddy J said, I got a hot fucking date later. We need to wrap this shit up. Remember this... WE are responsible for this shithole of a team being relevant again. Don't let anyone tell you different. When we beat KansASS City again next Sunday, you motherfuckers better be ready to spend the entire press conference on your knees because y'all are going to be bowing to us like we were the motherfucking kings of Zamunda. Now get the fuck out of here before we get like Montgomery Burns and release the hounds. Go Raiders, bitches.

Reporters: Thanks for your time, guys...

Until next time, cabrones...

Juan

 

The Monday Sunday Roundup: Insert Bad Movie Reference Here

Ahoy, friends.  It's been a long night, yet shorter than the ones I've had recently.  I feel beat up, rode hard, put away wet, and just BLAH right now.  I was actually going to skip the Roundup this week because no particular reason other than I just didn't want to write.  But then I started to think, and when I think about Sunday football, I think of how my thoughts look on a computer screen.  So, here we are.  I'm writing it, so the least you scumbags can do is read it.  Here we go.

1.  There is nobody in the NFL right now that should be more thankful to play on the team that he plays for than Brian Hoyer.  We've been seeing chinks in his armor all season long; he's not terribly accurate, and he seems to be a poor man's Eli Manning in that he only seems to come alive late in the game when his back is against the wall.  Well, yesterday was no different.  In Josh Gordon's return to the Browns, Hoyer should have put up 100 points.  Gordon is scheme-proof; he's mega-elite and no coach will be able to change that.  Hoyer should have been completing touchdown bombs all day to this dude.  Instead he threw for no touchdowns and three interceptions against an absolutely putrid defense.  I hate to say it, because the guy is winning games, but I believe he's holding the Cleveland Browns back.  If they didn't have a winning record for the first time in a millennium, Hoyer is on the bench right now and Johnny Manziel is racking up unsportsmanlike conduct fines left and right.  The Browns are overachieving despite him.  I like him and I want him to succeed, but I think he's hit his ceiling.  We've seen his best and his best isn't all that great.  The Browns are winning because of their run game, and that brings me to my next point.

I think a guy like Isaiah Crowell does as much harm for runningbacks in general, and where they stand in the league, as he does good.  He does them proud by being a hard, fast runner with a nose for the end zone.  Sure, he has buttery banana hands, but that's a fixable problem;  Adrian Peterson was better-known for this early in his career than we was for his 200-yard games.  Tiki Barber STILL gets guff from football fans for his fumbling proficiency.  Alfred Morris fumbles the toilet paper when he goes to wipe, but he's also the friggin' Juggernaut when he gets a chance to be.  A guy like Crowell shows that a team can win games with a great running game.  The bad news is simple:  Isaiah Crowell was an undrafted free agent.  Teams see that you can get a key player for next to nothing, and that does a lot of harm for the guys that come after him.  Melvin Gordon and Todd Gurley are both superior talents to Crowell, definite first-round picks in a perfect NFL world.  But why bother when you can get guys like this in the fifth round?  Everyone knows or has read my feelings on the runningback in the league.  I hate that the first thing today's scouts and pundits judge is his ability to pass protect.  I hate the fact that Andy Dalton will probably make more money in his career than Arian Foster will.  But, unfortunately, it's guys like Isaiah Crowell than make this happen.  This is a double-edged sword if there ever was one.

2.  And now, we get to the only QB in the NFL that is likely on a shorter leash than Brian Hoyer.  Robert Griffin III didn't have a favorable matchup yesterday, sure.  And the team as a whole played a lot better than they did against Tampa Bay.  But this guy is showing more and more every week that he just is not an NFL-caliber talent.  He has arm strength and running speed.  That's it.  And I read somewhere that, as of now, Jay Gruden has a green light to bench him is he sees fit.  Griffin doesn't even have the owner's support anymore, and that was literally the only thing keeping him on the field.  I don't know if Gruden is going to pull him out and start Colt McCoy, but I know that's sure as hell what I would do at this point.  The Raiders have won a game more recently than Griffin has, though there were extenuating circumstances in that incident.  I just can't watch the guy anymore.  It's embarrassing.  

3.  Other than what I mentioned earlier about how RB's are treated, I have to say that the thing in the NFL that makes me the most angry is that Odell Beckham plays for the New York Giants.  Why does this bug me?  Well, he plays for a division rival.  Also, he does things like this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fKxrmL2JSrU

For some reason, this blog wouldn't let me link directly to the video, but there's the link.  I'm certainly not the first to write about this play, or talk about it, and I won't be the last.  I only have one thing to say about this:  fuck Odell Beckham.  And I won't sully this medium with a "Bend it Like Beckham" reference.

So that's about it.  I have zero interest in the Ravens/Saints game tonight, or the Buffalo/Jets game in Detroit.  I would have loved to see that game played in the 67 feet of snow that Buffalo got last week, but whatever, I ain't the commissioner.  Anyway, this week is Thanksgiving, and I want to extend my wishes for the happiest of holidays to each and every person reading this blog.  May you be ever satisfied and not hungry.  I love you all, and I'll see you later!

That Was All Us

It is the best of Friday mornings, ladies and gentlemen.  For those of you who haven't been paying a lot of attention, last week marked the beginning of an exciting new opportunity for me and Juan.  Yep, we accepted the monumental task of attempting to resuscitate the dying Oakland Raiders franchise by becoming the first head coaching duo in world history.  And last night, we did it.  You all were probably watching some black guy on TV talking about Mexicans.  That was the dumbest thing you could have possibly done.  You missed all the glory.  All the sacrifice.  All the passion.  And you probably missed the best part of the whole thing, too:  the post-game press conference.  So since I love you all, I'm going to give you a recap of what transpired post-game in the press room.  We did it.  Shit went down.  Here we go.

Reporter #1:  Coach Teal, Coach Adame, let me start off by congratulating you on your fir-

Coach Teal:  Ok, wait wait, shut up.  Before we get to the portion of this press conference where we answer your questions, I have a question of my own:  why are all of you so ugly?  I mean, Coach Adame and I just pulled off the most impossible of impossibles against the red-hot Kansas City Chiefs, and you sons of bitches couldn't even bother to bring Suzy Kolber in here to talk to me- uh, us?  Man, what I'd do to Suzy Kolber.  I would do things to her that are banned under the Geneva Conventions.  I talked to her on the sideline at halftime, and she told me she'd see me later?  You, fatass, did you eat her?  Where is she?  Anyway, let's hear your stupid questions, because we ain't got all night.

Reporter #2:  Coach Teal, what did your team do differently tonight than from the rest of the season?

Coach Teal:  For one, they hired Juan and me, which was 99% of the battle right there.  Secondly, the team didn't suck ginormous ass tonight.  They pretended like they've done this shit before.  We have like two guys with Super Bowl rings on this squad, so this ain't exactly rocket science, ya know?  Thirdly, we're the best coaches in the league.  This one is on us.  Every minute, except the few where we blew the lead we had.  That was dumbass Khalil Mack.  And Charles Woodson.  Next question.

Reporter #6:  Coach Adame, did you notice a difference in the way Derek Carr played tonight?  Is his improvement the key to future wins?

Coach Adame:  Let me ask YOU a question, smartass:  have you ever seen Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau from the Grumpy Old Men movies play football?  Because that's what the retard Zane and I replaced were trotting onto the field at runningback.  Darren McFadden couldn't run out of a fire exit in an empty auditorium.  Maurice Jones-Drew is more useless than Olivia Munn in Aaron Rodgers' bed.  So Coach Teal and I had a long conversation by text last night, and we came to the conclusion that both Dennis Allen and Tony Sparano suck shit.  We also saw that there was something on our roster called a Latavius Murray, so Zane said, sure, why the hell not?  We'll give Marcel Reece some carries too.  I agreed.  

Coach Teal:  Did you know that science discovered that when you have Darren McFadden and Maurice Jones-Drew in the game at runningback, that the opposing defense's need to play run defense vanishes into thin air?  Half the teams we played didn't even line up defensive linemen.  That's how much those two are dogshit.  Anyway, when you have that as your "offense," and yes, I did do the finger quotes, you're going to have ineffective quarterback play, because one, you're Derek Carr and you're a bucket of ass, and two, there are gonna be ten guys covering every receiver you have.  Or at least it seems that way.  So we threw Latavius Murray a bone.  And he rocked that shit.  Coach Adame and I talked for hours about this decision.  Then, for some reason, he told me that Alfred Morris has a peanut allergy.  Then I told him that Arian Foster doesn't spay or neuter his pets.  Then he said that Robert Griffin III sends his mail postage due.  The conversation went on in that spirit for probably another two hours.  Oh, did you guys in the media know that Deandre Hopkins doesn't cover his mouth when he coughs?  Can you believe that?  Isn't that shit gross?  He must want all of your kids to get ebola.  Next question.

Reporter #1:  Coach Teal, would you care to explain your absence from last week's post-game press conference?

Coach Teal:  I wouldn't care to explain a fucking thing to you, you little pissant.  Are you wearing hair gel?  I go to the press conferences I want to go to.  Sure, Goodell fined me $25,000.  Big deal, I make that in a year.  I mean, you have guys like Belichick who can say "DERR, DERR, WE'RE ON TO CINCINNATI, DERR DERR" eighteen times in a row, and that pussy Goodell doesn't do a thing about it.  You call that making yourself available to the media?  You could fill a pillow case full of thumbtacks, draw a face on it, and it would be both better-looking and more charismatic than that turd.  HOW'S THAT NOT-CHEATING THING GOING FOR YOU, SHITSTAIN?  ELI MANNING SAYS HELLO.  But to answer your question, suck my butt.  Next.

Reporter #3:  Coach Adame, what will the two of you do to prepare the team for the next game against-

Coach Adame:  Fuck, there's another game?  Man, we're like 1-76.  How long is this bullshit gonna last?  Hey Zane, check this out:  "Derr, I'm Bill Belichick. We play Detroit this week, derr, and we're focused on that." (Coach Teal laughs maniacally) 

Reporter #4:  Coach Teal, wh-

Coach Teal:  Oh my god, SHUT UP.  You know what?  This press conference is over.  You guys smell like onions.  We've been here for like ten minutes and Suzy Kolber still isn't here?  You people are amateurs.  I have a gallon of Crown Royal and a keg of Corona in the locker room, so Coach Adame, I, and the team are about to get BLOTTO.  Any of you rat bastards see Suzy, tell her about the secret knock.  She'll know what I'm talking about.

Coach Adame:  Amen to that-... wait, a pillowcase full of thumbtacks?  For real?  Did you dip into the Crown before we came here, Zane?

Coach Teal:  OVER!

So that'll do it for us this week.  Be sure to support your local Oakland Raiders head coach(es)!  Bye!

The FRP Goes to Oakland...

Good evening, chickenheads and cockfighters. It's been so long, it feels like I haven't been here in weeks.... oh wait, I HAVEN'T been here in weeks.

I need to put the kabash on something real quick. I am not in, nor have I come out of the closet. I have not had sexual relations with Olivia Munn (nor Aaron Rodgers for that matter). I did not die of a chronic mountainous erection due to the dominating performance of RYAN MALLETT DA GAWD versus the Cleveland Brownstains. I've been busy, working. I have a job. I have a wife who will likely look at me sideways because I happened to type "sexual relations" and "mountainous erection" into a sports blog post. I have kids who like to do things that don't involve staying home and sitting in a corner and wondering why daddy looks so funny all of the time. Life is currently happening and even though I love blogging for you germs, I am having trouble finding time to. Luckily, Zane has done a stellar job keeping us afloat every week. I can sit here and tell you that I am going to start contributing more here, but I don't want to mislead you. Life is happening at the moment. OILFIELD DON'T SLEEP. But, rest assured, I'm going to give you my best.

Don't be fooled by the title of this post. Zane and I are not some kind of reporters who are out on assignment covering their silly excuse of a football team. Even if they paid us, we wouldn't go to Oakland on purpose. We enjoy living our lives without the constant stench of dried fecal matter and rotten cabbage. Oakland is hell, and Al Davis is fucking Lucifer's shitty ass grandpa. No thanks.

I'm playing a little pretend here today. The Oakland Raiders are doublefucked. They are currently 0-10 and there is no end to the pain in sight. Ol' Crazy Grandpa Al died and left his family all of the trash to take out. This trash just so happens to be the Raiders' 53-man roster. This team is going 0-16, and there is nothing anyone can do to stop it. They also fired the coach after getting bootyspanked by the Miami Dolphins in London by the score of 173-6. Poor Brits. They happen to like American football and we give them the Raiders and the Jaguars. Naive, Grand Canyon-mouthed fucks. They don't know any better. That's where the pretend comes in. Zane and I have accepted the job of co-head coaches of the motherfuckin' Silver and Black. The Team of Death. The World's Most Orphaned Franchise. YOUR... OAKLAND RAIDERS.

Granted, we were not hired for this job because we can coach up Derek Carr and friends. They didn't seek us out because we can run the West Coast offense to perfection. Nope. They hired us because we are psychotic, slobbering, hairy ass American quote machines. We were brought in to create a diversion while upper management plans their escape to the Bermuda triangle. Sweet, tasty precious death. These assholes would rather die than to be associated with the Oakland Raiders. Roger Goodell will likely take ownership of the team and move them to San Antonio. A dump of a football team going to a dump of a town. Perfect match. We've just lost to the San Diego Chargers, who have been leaking chocolate waterfalls out of their own asses and into their beds the last month or so themselves. But have no fear! The Get-Well Raiders are here! Now, it is our time to shine. It is press conference time for Coach Adame and Coach Teal. The writers, sycophants and reporters have all filed into the media room and proceeded to make it smell like ass and armpits. The mics are hot, and here we go.

Coach Adame: First off, I want to thank all of you for being here today. I apologize for Coach Teal not being here to grace you with his presence, but he is currently going ape-shit on the team right now. He is showing them reruns of The Gilmore Girls while playing that stupid-ass "Animals" song by Adam Levine on a loop as their punishment. I will do my best to answer all of your questions until he gets here. But before we continue, I need to let you motherfuckers know that you all need to take a bath before y'all come up in here next week. The stench of your rotting bodies is unpleasant to my eyes and nose. OK, first question?

Reporter One: Coach, tough loss here today. How does it feel to go to 0-10 after only allowing 13 points to San Diego because of the inability to score more than 6 points?

Coach Adame: It feels like fuck you, OK? We are bottom of the barrel plankton food. Amoeba feels like they can punk us now. We lost to a damn inbred retard named Philip Rivers whose cousin/wife just gave birth to their 15th mutant baby. Y'all need to investigate that son of a bitch because he may be from Utah and have 13 wives. I don't care if that's legal or not, my boy Roger will handle that shit real quick. If none of these players are allowed to punch their kids or assault women in dirty bar bathrooms, then he isn't allowed to fuck. Then you got Antonio Gates, who's 87 years old and still runs faster than a horny cheetah. If that dude isn't on some kind of PEDs, then I need to have what he's having because I can't even run fast enough to the restroom when I got the squirts. OK, but to answer your question, it sucks to only score 6 points in a professional football game. But what do you expect? We've got David Carr's little snot-nosed brother as our quarterback. And he's only got that job by default because our front office made the conscious decision to trade for Matt Fucking Schaub in the offseason. Remember that asshole (room snickers)? That piece of donkey shit threw more touchdowns to the other team than his own and our front office thought it was a good idea that to bring THAT guy in here? Fuck that, and FUCK THEM. We have two running backs who are the exact same guy. And by the exact same guy, I mean that they are always hurt. I think they are fellating each other after practice each week and over doing it. They need to stop that shit or save it for the bye week because I need a running back to keep the ball out of Derek Carr's hands. But then again, can I blame Derek? Look who he has to throw to. You got someone named James Jones out there, who is the one receiver on earth that can make Aaron Rodgers look bad. His hands are made of adamantium and fresh concrete and his fingers are the rebar. Then you have something called Mychal Rivera, whose parents couldn't even spell his name correctly so he was fucked from the womb. Look guys, we've been here before. Are you really surprised that we only scored 6 points? No, dumbass. Of course you aren't. Next question.

Reporter 2: With rumors circulating that the team could move to LA or San Antonio, do you feel any added pressure to win at least one game this season?

Coach Adame: San Antonio? Fuck that. They wanna move us to San Antonio? Hell no! Do you know why no one is allowed to go into the Riverwalk water? It isn't because it is some sort of landmark treasure. It's because that shit is radioactive. You fall in, you don't come out. They can't keep the fish in there because the fuckers grow legs and walk away. What do you think happened to Jimmy Hoffa? They threw him in the Riverwalk and he melted and was slurped up by Catfish Man. If they want us to win so we can move, then you might as well just give us the rest of these losses this season and 16 more the next season because I'm not going to San Antoni-HOE. No sir. Move us to Boise, Idaho. Or Canada. Or Australia so we can scrimmage the kangaroos. Anywhere but San Antonio. I'll take LA. You know what, who am I kidding, LA isn't getting a team again.

Reporter 3: Coach, what does the team have to do to win a game this season?

Coach Adame: Pray. Pray to Jesus, Allah, Buddah, Jay-Z and Beyonce and the rest of the illumiati. We need to dig up the ashes of Al Davis and spread them on the other team's locker rooms. I figured that since that old leathery fuck has cursed this team for so long, the rest of the league can get some too. I can't give you the generic answers anymore. No more trying hard every Sunday. He need some witchcraft. I am going to take a class in black magic from Darth Raider on the field level seats. I plan on throwing a hex on the Chiefs this Thursday and hope they become the Redskins. Speaking of the Redskins, I thought that we were the only team allowed to do screwy shit with our first round draft picks. How dare those motherfuckers try to one-up us. I know we drafted a kicker in the first round who likely ate his competition, at least we didn't trade the souls of 10,000 American Indians for the right to draft Andre 3000 of Outkast. They couldn't even throw in Big Boi? What a shame. We need to get back at them. I sure do like that Jamies Winston fellow. I wonder what St Louis will take for him. I think I have the keys to Al's jet somewhere.

Random asshole: Coach... where is Coach Teal? I thought he would be here with you?

Coach Adame: Fuck... hold on, let me call him. *has awkward phone conversation*.... Damn, OK... but don't you.... shouldn't.... ah shit, don't get shot man. He lived in Texas for a few years you know..... OK, bye. Sorry guys, Coach Teal won't be here with  us today. Apparently, in a fit of rage, he's on his way to David Carr's house to beat his ass and get a piece of his wife. And on that note, gotta go. See y'all Thursday! Go Tex-- I mean Raiders!

Good chance we're fired after Thursday's game.

Until next time, cabrones....

Juan

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Monday Sunday Roundup: A Big Ol' #2

Welcome back, turds.  This blog has been quiet for the last week, and I sorta feel like, at least on my end, I don't even really have to explain why.  My job is in its busiest time of the year, and as for Juan, you'd have to ask him.  It probably has something to do with being secretly gay.  I know you're all thinking, "Secretly?  Are you for realz?"  All I mean is that he has neither confirmed nor denied it.  Being trapped in the closet is a lot of pressure for a father of three.  Don't be fooled by his relationship with Olivia Munn.. it's a diversion.  A smokescreen.  Huh?  That's Aaron Rodgers?  Juan couldn't get within a mile of one of Munn's dirty socks?  I KNOW, RIGHT?  So off we go.

1.  Yesterday was a good time to be one of Tom Brady's former backup QB's.  A more specific way to say this is that yesterday was a good day to be one of Tom Brady's former #2's (and there's your explanation) that was recently traded to the Houston Texans.  Ryan Mallett was perfectly acceptable against his archnemesis Brian Hoyer (the second-most famous of Brady's former backups) and the Cleveland Browns.  Even with Arian Foster out of the game, he wasn't asked to do much besides not make mistakes and not turn the ball over, and he did that just fine.  Don't get it twisted; Mallett has the potential to do more than just be acceptable.  His arm strength rivals Jay Cutler's.  Dude has a serious cannon strapped to his shoulder.  But a game plan like this was probably the best way to ease him into his new role as a starter.  I can't shake the harsh reality that this is a guy that lost a backup QB job in New England to Jimmy Garoppolo.  Speaking of Jimmy, I think I have officially made misspelling his name a thing now.  That was the first time I've ever written it correctly.  Normally it looks like this:  Garoppoppopoopopoooopopopopopopopolo.  Why?  I dunno, I just think it's kinda funny.  I may be the only one who thinks that.  Aaaaanyway, Mallett is 1-0 as a starter in the NFL, and I'd have to say his career trajectory is most likely pointing upward.  Yes, yes, I know, I said the same thing about Kirk Cousins, but Kirk Cousins can eat a bowl of piss.  On the other side of the coin, there's just something about Brian Hoyer that makes me refuse to fully endorse him as the QB the Cleveland Browns need.  He's too hot-n-cold.  At his best he looks like, if not an elite QB, then an upper-tier one.  At his worst, he completes 40% of his passes like he did yesterday.  Brian Hoyer should not be throwing the ball 50 times.  The good looks really good, the bad looks really bad.  There's just no middle ground with this guy.  I won't call him a game manager, because he actually is something of a playmaker.  But I have to go ahead and officially declare my doubt that his playmaking ability is on par with that of Johnny Manziel.  This was the kind of game that can cost a QB a contract.  Hoyer is up for one after the season ends, and I just can't really fathom Cleveland shelling out big money to keep him around.  Not when you have a Heisman winner and professional jersey salesman sitting on the bench, frothing at the mouth to get his chance.  I dunno.  It almost seems like a good problem to have.  But I also said THAT about Kirk Cousins.  And speaking of big #2's....

2.  There's a Litmus test for professional QB's.  Even a down-on-his-luck starting QB has a game every season where he's just allowed to shine.  Where the team, and the fans, can just sit back with that smug look on their faces that makes everyone within reach want to punch them and say "THAT'S why we drafted this kid."  Yesterday was one of those games for Robert Griffin III.  In theory, at least.  He failed.  Miserably.  He led the Redskins to a loss against Tampa Bay.  If you watch the NFL, that sentence needs no clarification.  If you can't beat Tampa Bay, you can't play in this league.  I know, I know.  It's not all Griffin's fault.  I know his line blows.  I know the defense makes Swiss cheese jealous.  I know all this.  There are a ton of reasons that Griffin is failing.  However, here is one fact that you cannot make any excuses for:  when Griffin is in the game, the Redskins are simply a bad team.  He makes a decent team worse with his presence.  Look how the Redskins played against the Cowboys with Colt McCoy in the game.  They were inspired.  They wanted to win.  They made few mistakes.  They looked like a dangerous team.  Insert Griffin and they look like the SCLSU Mud Dogs, before Bobby Boucher showed up.  The guy has to go.  He's not coachable.  He's obviously bringing bad chemistry to the team.  I heard something like this about Ryan Leaf.  Once you get compared to Ryan Leaf, your career is officially on the black list.  Bye, man.  Say hi to Jameis Winston on your way out.  

3.  I'm throwing you guys a curveball here.  This segment isn't about football.  Other than the curveball reference, it doesn't even have anything to do with sports.  It's TV time on the Punter.  I think it's time to announce that, according to my own recollection, I've seen more jail rape on Sons of Anarchy than I ever saw on Oz, an HBO show about a maximum security prison.  If Sons was a show about jail, this wouldn't even be an issue.  Yes, it's a show about crime and criminals, and when dealing with crime and criminals, jail is always in the periphery.  But Sons of Anarchy is on cable.  And it's not about jail.  And there is an unusually high amount of jail rape in the show, especially in the past few seasons.  Honestly, the rapes themselves don't bother me that much; even though I'm full-on hetero, I'm not one of those that has to loudly proclaim how disgusting I find gay scenes in television and movies when I see them.  I loved Brokeback Mountain and I don't give a damn who knows it.  But jail rape?  The straw that broke the camel's ass wasn't your ordinary jail sex scene.  It wasn't the jail rapes your grandparents told you about when you were 4.  What's that?  Nobody else's grandparents told them jail rape stories?  Whatever.  This was a special case.  This was historic.

This was a Marilyn Manson jail rape.

Yes.  Theo Rossi (Juice) was, on screen, raped in prison by Marilyn Manson.  And it didn't look all that much out of place.  I can totally see MM being a sexual predator.  I'm sure he's not in real life, but he makes both a convincing jailhouse daddy and a natural Aryan Brotherhood leader.  The creepiest thing about it was that, at the end of the episode, MM was reading love poems to Juice while Juice did cocaine and prepared for what I assume was another off-screen butthammering.  I dunno.. this show lost me a long time ago.  Most of the blame for that goes to Vince Gilligan, because he created Breaking Bad and Breaking Bad is superior to everything that has ever been transmitted over any medium, save for the one you're currently reading.  I'm better than Breaking Bad.  But only me.  

So that's all I have for this week.  I LOL'd at the Denver Broncos yesterday for getting beat by St. Louis, but St. Louis beats good teams and makes it look easy.  Tonight, Ben Roethlisberger has a chance to get him off my rape-joke shit list by pounding the Tennessee Titans.  I have to assume that's what's gonna happen.  If not, he and I are gonna have a problem.  I'll fight him, no questions asked.  I know he doesn't want any of this action.  And if you believe a word of that, I love you.  Really, I do.

Bye!

The Monday Sunday Roundup: We Just Can't Have Nice Things

Morning, buttholes.  You get the Roundup on its correct day this week.  If you're looking for an apology for the last one, don't bother, it ain't happening.  I'm old.  My memory doesn't work the way it used to.  Man, what a strange statement.. if my memory was really that bad, I wouldn't remember a time when it was better, would I?  And that is your daily dose of Zen.  You're welcome.  Let's talk about football.

1.  Son of a Roethlisberger.  Goddamn it, Ben.  You were having the best mid-season surge anyone had ever seen.  You threw six touchdowns in each of your last two games.  We all thought you'd discovered the passion.  The passion you normally only had when you had a poor, defenseless woman cornered in a bathroom with two bodyguards watching the door.  You were translating that into football fury.  You were supposed to be the guy that got the media to stop talking about Peyton Manning and Tom Brady for three f'ing seconds.  That was you.  You and Antonio Brown.  The SuperFriends.  Montana and Rice 2.0.  BUT THEN YOU LOST TO THE JETS.  You lost to a team that was on an eight-game losing streak.  Who do you think you play for, the Redskins?!  This was gonna be the game where you got the mark of the beast.  Had you done what you were supposed to do, that was actually going to be the subtitle of this post!  The Mark Of The Beast.  666.  Don't make me explain this, folks.  The Jets' secondary is awful.  My friend Juan threw for 400 yards against that defense in a scrimmage game.  

But you know what?  This is actually my fault.  Mine.  Ben got the kiss of death.  What do I mean?  I mean I not only added him to my fantasy football team, I plugged him in as the starting QB.  I really don't know why I'm surprised; I'm actually more surprised that he didn't blow out every ligament in all of his knees on the first snap of the game.  My bad, Ben.  But still, you owe me for this one.  I'm gonna make rape jokes until you pay off this debt.  I mean, it's not like I would generally care about a Steelers/Jets game, but nobody wanted to see you lose to Michael Vick.  It's not a good look.  Much like cornering a woman in a restroom.  It looks suspicious.  You raped hundreds of thousands of women.  Great, now I have football Tourette's.  The Cleveland Browns are in sole possession of first place in the AFC North, and it's not week 2.  This one is on you, Rapey.  Not that I have any problem with Cleveland being on top.

2.  Marshawn Lynch, if you listen to the media, is not a happy camper in Seattle these days, but he sure as hell isn't playing like an unhappy guy.  I didn't see much of the Seahawks/Giants game, but when I read the stat line after the game was over, and saw that Lynch scored four touchdowns, the first words out of my mouth were "WHOOOOOOOAAA BUNDY!"  Four touchdowns in a game?  Polk High?  Yeah?  Anyway, either this guy is just looking for a parachute for when Seattle dumps his ass this offseason, or we're being lied to and manipulated, like the many many female victims of Ben Roethlisberger.  I guess this would be a decent time to make a written indictment of the Giants' run defense, but what would be the point?  They suck so much, if they were a broken clock, they would only be right once a day.  Is it fixable?  Who cares?  The Giants can eat a bowl of rocks.  It's weird, I don't actually hate the Giants, but there is no other team, Dallas included, that I would rather see lose in this sort of fashion.  When it happens to the Cowboys, it's like watching a puppy get kicked.  You cringe, and you feel bad for the puppy on some level, though you're not angry at the puppy kicker.  When it's the Giants, you buy the puppy kicker a beer.  You go to the bar and buy him wings.  You watch Ben Roethlisberger cast furtive glances around the bar, post a lookout at the bathroom door, and go in to "handle his business."  And by that I mean bathroom rape.

3.  I'm gonna go ahead and call this:  the winner of the NFC South will not have a winning record this year.  Man, what a dumpster fire this Ben Roethlisberger raped like thirty women division is.  This is pre-2011 NFC West bad.  I think we should move two of these teams to London, and the other two to Los Angeles.  Two birds, one stone, amirite?  If this division sends a 7-9 team to the playoffs, like the Seahawks did in 2010, I have a feeling the league is gonna make changes to the playoff rules.  Also, Ben Roethlisberger is a sexual predator.  These four teams combined have three more wins than the Arizona Cardinals.

4.  And speaking of those guys, don't panic.  Drew Stanton can do anything Carson Palmer can do.  Unlike Ben Roethlisberger, Stanton has never sexually assaulted a woman.  This team is on fire.  They do literally everything well.  NFC Champions.  I'll bet you a dollar.

OK, tonight.  Normally I could give two donkey shits less about a Philadelphia/Carolina game, but this one is special.  This one is historic.  This game marks the return of the author of the most hilarious play in NFL history:  THE BUTTFUMBLE.  Yep.  Mark Sanchez is back.  Nick Foles had his collarbone broken by Ben Roethlisberger when BR mistook him for a woman in the bathroom.  It's the long hair, bro.  Anyone coulda made that mistake.  Anyway, I'll be watching this for that reason and that reason alone.  I don't think Sanchez is an improvement over Foles.. but nor do I believe that Foles is appreciably better than Sanchez.  Tonight is the night we get to see what this vaunted "Chip Kelly offense" is made of.  If Sanchez can run it, anyone can.  Except Ben Roethlisberger.  He's too busy raping.

Peace!

The Monday Sunday Roundup (Tuesday Edition): Clockwork

Goooooooood morning, ladies and gents.  If you're reading this, you obviously know by now that it's not Monday.  That's not really by design; normally this is where I tell you all how hard I work, with all the long hours and whatnot. At that point you start lamenting.  LAMENTING, I say.  You cannot believe that I'm being subjected to such abuse.  You depend on me every Monday, and because of pure corporate greed, because of the demands placed upon me by my bosses, I let you down.  That's what you're all thinking, and it would be lovely if that was the truth.  Here's the bare-ass bones of the matter:  I forgot.  Something I've done almost every Monday morning of this NFL season, I forgot to do yesterday.  I did in fact work long hours, and I was tired, and maybe a little moody, but that hasn't stopped me before.  I just forgot.  I came home, I fired up Netflix and binge-watched a few episodes of That 70's Show, and I fell asleep.  Hey, it happens, right?  Get off my back already!  Write your own blog if it means that much to you, gawd!

1.  It's times like this when I come to realize that I can sometimes be too subtle, and that subtlety is not always my friend.  Take the title of this post, Clockwork.  Now, what I was imagining was the most famous clock in the world.  Big Ben the clock.  Big Ben the football player.  Ben Roethlisberger.  He's the star of the league the last two weeks.  As much as you can talk, with a straight face, about the "best two-game stretch in NFL history," you have to say that Big Ben is having that stretch.  He has been unbelievable the last two weeks.  Twelve touchdowns across two games (six each).  About 5000 passing yards (give or take) per game.  He is hitting levels of awesome that have been heretoforth unseen by these eyes of mine. And let me just go ahead and get this out there, too; Antonio Brown, circa 2014, is the best wide receiver in the game.  Now, he's had the benefit of not having Josh Gordon or Calvin Johnson (minus a few games) to compete with, but that takes nothing away from him; even last year when those two were running wild, Brown was a close #3, if not #2 behind Gordon.  Ben and Antonio are owning the world.  They're sleeping with your wife right in front of you and daring you to do something about it.  Le'veon Bell is getting his pound of flesh too, but it's weird; I cannot recall a time when the Steelers had the best runningback in football.  I'm not sure they ever have, and they don't now.  Even when Jerome Bettis was playing, he was dwarfed by the likes of Ladainian Tomlinson and Shaun Alexander.  I dunno, maybe they don't need a star RB.  Since they got shellacked by Cleveland, whatever they're doing is working to perfection, and if it keeps up, I have a difficult time not seeing them beat both New England and Denver for the AFC.  Unless Cleveland gets there.  Then it's all Hoyer the Destroyer.  Because Antonio Brown's worst nightmare is returning to the fold in a few weeks, and it's gonna get ugly.  Free Josh Gordon.

2.  This lil' point was actually going to get a post all it's own.  I was gonna go nuclear.  My target?  Jerry Jones.  Even though I hate the Cowboys, I've always been somewhat indifferent toward the actual personnel on the team, from the players to Jerrah.  I wished them no particular harm, save for losing every single game they played.  That changed last week.  I saw a doped-up Tony Romo, still in obvious pain, lose a game against Washington that he should have been taken out of (and he was, temporarily).  I was happy about the win.  I didn't feel any sort of real concern for Romo, because I didn't think the Cowboys organization would be so stupid, and reckless, and callous, as to allow even the possibility of a guy with fractured bones in his back to suit up against a team as dangerous as the Arizona Cardinals this past weekend.  Well boy, was I wrong.  Jones, and all of his hideous loose skin and bug eyes and stupid suits, was telling the media that Romo was a "game-time decision" and using bullshit phrases like "pain management."  When I saw that, I got legitimately angry.  Seriously.  The post immediately began forming itself in my mind.  There would be precious little of my trademark light humor in it.  I was gonna call Jerry names.  Awful names.  I was going to insult his family.  I was going to imply, if not outright state, that his children were/are products of incest.  I was going to tell a story about his mother and a rottweiler, and the ending of that story was gonna imply that they fornicated.  Well, (un)fortunately, cooler heads prevailed, and Romo didn't play this weekend.  Whether those cooler heads were Jason Garrett, the team doctors, Romo's own doctors, or Romo himself, he didn't suit up and we were treated to The Second Coming of Brandon Weeden.  And it was magnificent.  Weeden didn't miss a step.  Interceptions, assorted other turnovers, and his trademark incompetence and buffoonery, they were all on display.  He also secured his position of being the second-best former AFC North QB to currently play in the NFC East.  How's THAT for a stat? And afterward, the Arizona Cardinals laid legitimate claim to being the best team in football.  Go figure, huh?  But even that didn't come on its own...

3. ... because it was gifted to them by the Denver Broncos.  Remember how Peyton Manning was on a mission after he got drubbed by the Seahawks in last year's Super Bowl?  Well, he must have been having flashbacks Sunday afternoon, because Tom Brady thoroughly cemented his total ownership of Manning by a score of 43(!)-21.  Why the exclamation point?  Because Russell Wilson and the rest of the Seahawks put up that exact same number.  The media loves these Brady vs Manning showdowns, but I couldn't really care less; as far as I'm concerned, it's just another game in a crowded season between two aging players, and besides, neither of these guys can touch Roethlisberger right now.  

4.  Look here, Robert Griffin III: we had a good thing going.  Colt McCoy beat our most hated rivals.  He played efficient and focused football against an absolutely surging Cowboys team, and he should have been able to play against Minnesota.  But nooooo, you had to go and ruin it.  I understand and even agree with the excuse-makers, to an extent; it wasn't all Griffin's fault.  The defense was unwiped ass.  They made Teddy Bridgewater look like Tom Brady.  But Colt McCoy wins that game, and until you can put up those kinds of accolades, the Redskins will no longer be the focus of the MSR.  Also, stop being so aloof and snotty with the media.  The reason there's all this "negativity", dumbass, is because you haven't won a football game in almost one calendar year, if not more.  That breeds negativity.  Until this ship gets righted, the media, regardless of how negative you perceive them to be, is right on the money.  Andrew Luck wins games.  Russell Wilson wins Super Bowls.  You whine on social media about how mean everyone is being to you.  STAAAAHP.  Just win, man.  That's all we want.  It's not like you haven't done it before.  Don't be Jason Campbell.  DON'T BE THAT GUY.

Didn't see Monday Night Football last night, because you already know why.  But I can't be sad about the New York Giants getting drubbed.  Eli Manning is a goof.  That is all.

So anyway, I was doing some thinking.  And, with the implied consent of my co-blogger Juan, I'm putting out sort of a casting call.  I want another writer.  Specifically, someone to write about college football.  I was planning to do this on my own; I even had a catchy title for these presumed posts:  Amateur Hour.  But I can't do it.  I don't watch it.  I barely pay attention to college football during draft time.  If you're interested, catch me on Facebook and I'll run it by Juan; he's actually the site administrator and only he can add contributors.  I think it would add something substantial to the site, and perhaps even spread awareness.  There's no pay, no benefits, and no job satisfaction; only wasted time, false praise, and the joy of seeing something you wrote preserved on the interwebs.  But I have to admit, it IS kinda fun.  I love doing this.  Maybe you would too...?

Take it sleazy, folks.  

I Blurb You To Death

Hello again, lovelies.  I realized earlier tonight that the NFL season is simply not long enough to accommodate more than three of these, at most, per season.  Of course, that is based solely on my undesirable work schedule, which I do not control.  The last one I did was when the Atlanta Falcons shelled the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, which sadly was the last win the Falcons have had to this date.  But if you're gonna go out, go out with a bang, amirite?  The primary differences between these and my Monday Sunday Roundups are that, with these, I get the opportunity to focus on one game at a time.  I can't do that with regular game days because my head is on a swivel on Sundays (or at least the Sundays I get the opportunity to watch more than one game).  Also, I only get this chance once every six weeks.  So tonight, the Carolina Panthers hosted the New Orleans Saints.  The Saints won 28-10.  Yadda yadda, blah blah.  Here's my takeaways.

I'm Gonna Be Somebody

Mark Ingram.  He won a Heisman Trophy.  He was a first-round draft pick.  But since these two things happened, he has more or less faded away into obscurity.  The University of Alabama churns out these types of running backs.  In theory, at least.  LOL @ Trent Richardson.  Also, Sean Payton seems to have an eye for good running backs that will never make it in New Orleans becuz Sean Payton is a dumbass and Drew Brees (and his hideous facial scar) run the show there.  It's hard to be a good RB in a city, on a team, where you have an elite quarterback.  Mark Ingram says bollocks to these stereotypes.  He beat the injury bug to become the best RB the Saints have seen since Deuce McAllister.  He seems to have taken some of the good qualities from most, if not all, of the best in the league at that position.  Arian Foster's field vision and patience?  Ingram has a piece of that.  Adrian Peterson's violence?  Ingram has most of that too, though I doubt he beats children until they bleed.  Darren Sproles' speed and catching ability?  He may not be on THAT level, but he's fast and has great hands.  So is it better to be some of everything than all of one thing?  Maybe it is.  And yes, I left out a fact that everyone seems to care about but me:  the guy can pass block.  He's excellent at it.  He aims low and doesn't exaggerate the situation.  Ingram is in the last year of his rookie contract, and he's having a good one.  The Saints are about to have to make an important decision; they have to either seal Ingram up so he can't go to Atlanta, or they have to bank on Payton's ability to pick up a guy that nobody else sees any value in, that will then become the next Mark Ingram.  Talk about a good problem to have, huh?  Ingram, no matter who he ends up playing for, is going to be the free agent steal of the 2015 season.  He is every bit as good as advertised.  It just took him four years to demonstrate it.  

What Might Have Been

Mark Ingram reminds me a lot of a guy that was drafted in 2008 by the Carolina Panthers.  He has elite talent, but is made of glass.  Jonathan Stewart is the most frustrating player in the NFL today.  He is a boss.  He runs hard, fast, and dangerously.  He should be in the conversation with the Demarco Murrays, Lesean McCoys, Arian Fosters, Adrian Petersons, and Marshawn Lynches of the world, but a guy will never be in that conversation if he only plays maybe five games a year.  Stewart was already being called elite the year he was drafted, but his acquisition that year (2008) only served to motivate Deangelo Williams to run for 15,000 yards and 76 touchdowns.  Stewart was definitely in the picture that year, but he took a backseat.  Deangelo had a year for the ages in 2008;  I remember watching a Monday Night Football game that year with a good friend of mine.  It was against Tampa Bay, and we were outside looking through the window as the second half started.  Stewart had already gotten two games of production in the first half, so the Panthers gave him a break and put Williams in the game.  First play of the half, I turned to my friend and said "watch this."  Jake Delhomme gave the ball to Williams and he ran something like 60 yards right into the end zone, untouched.  He was the second best runner on his team.  So now, Deangelo Williams is 30 and is going through a progression that all 30-year-old RB's go through; namely, he sucks now.  Stewart does not.  But you don't know it because he never plays.  Stewart has all the ability that the best guys in the league have.  But he broke both his hand and his jaw giving a post-game interview because he held a microphone.  In retrospect, I could have given him an award that Jake Locker and RG3 got, but since he is always inactive, until tonight I kinda forgot about him.  It's sad, really.  Jonathan Stewart annoys me to no end, because he should have been an all-timer by now, but he just couldn't stay upright. (Update:  Stewart was reading this blog when he got glaucoma staring at his computer screen.  He's questionable for week 10.)

Who The Hell Are You?!

One thing I noticed, sort of in my periphery, is that Drew Brees completed about 100 passes tonight to a guy wearing a #84 jersey.  I figured it was a backup tight end because I couldn't get a clear camera shot of the guy's name.  Speaking of tight ends, did you all know that Jimmy Graham played basketball?  Because he played basketball.  He's a former basketball player whose skills as a tight end are 95% reliant on the fact that he's tall and he used to play basketball.  SHUT THE HELL UP.  HE DOESN'T PLAY BASKETBALL ANYMORE.  Anyway, I could not figure out for the life of me who #84 was until near the end of the game, when it was revealed to be a guy named Kenny Stills.  I know the name.  I've never actually seen him catch a pass before, and that could be due to the fact that I don't watch the Saints play a lot.  But this guy was making some ridiculous catches.  Urgent catches.  You don't catch a cold as efficiently as this guy was catching footballs.  Brees is gonna need this guy pretty much from now until the end of his career, which I predict will be two years from now.  Stills is the sort of guy that every team has at least one of, but never gets the credit he deserves.  Andre Roberts is one of those guys.  Harry Douglas is another one.  Nate Burleson was for the longest time.  So was Earl Bennett.  And Jason Avant.  Wes Welker made being that kind of guy famous.  These guys are the heart of the NFL.  I'm rooting for him.

You Are Poop

Sorry, Cam Newton, but I really wanted to give you the benefit of a doubt.  I wanted to think that you weren't just a guy who can run the ball really well and could also throw it from time to time.  I wanted you to not be the next Michael Vick.  But I give up.  I understand it's not all Cam's fault, because his top receiver, me, was out with a leg injury.  Seriously, that team has the worst receiving corps in the history of the planet.  Kelvin Benjamin shows promise, but until he gets a better QB than Cam Newton, he's not going to amount to much.  You know the situation is bad when I say, out loud, "Derek Anderson is better than you" to someone who is not Brady Quinn or John Skelton.

Other than this, the game was pretty ho-hum.  I don't know the NFL's scheduling policies, but they need to change in order for their flagship network to not showcase a game between two teams with losing records.  But whatever, I don't pay for the Network anyway.  And Thursday games always tend to be asshole.  So that does it for tonight, and I'll see you guys on Monday!

In Defense Of....... Arian Foster

#Staysuckafree
— Feeno (@ArianFoster) September 16, 2014

Greetings, earthlings. Before I get started, I just want to take the time to thank you all for continuing to support our little piece of the blogosphere in these past few months. My partner-in-scribe and I are working on making this thing bigger and better for you all. We cannot wait to roll these things out! And as always, feedback is very welcome.

If you haven't read it, please do yourself a great justice and read Zane's Midseason Awards. This just further proves that he should probably start getting paid to write. Well, I ain't gonna pay him... but someone should.

Now, on to business. I know what you're saying. You're saying, "Juan, you big bad motherfucker you, why do you want to defend THAT guy? He's having a great year! What is there to defend?" I am so glad you asked.

I am here to defend him from YOU. You, the brilliant capologist who often questioned why the organization decided to keep him and let Ben Tate walk in the offseason. You, the open-mouthed genius with a medical license that thought that Foster's career was over after his 2013 season ended early because of a back injury. You, the patron saint who chastised and lambasted him because he decided to impregnate one of the Barbie twins. You, the dirty and fickle media member who thought it was a good idea to confront him AT HIS HOUSE about said impregnation. You, the degenerate, shit-straddling, fantasy football playing, powdered donut smelling wet piece of reused toilet paper who just wanted to see him fail and put in his place.

I get it. Arian Foster threw out his back in the middle of last season after getting close to 400 touches the previous campaign. All the while, Ben Tate filled in admirably while also being hurt and had an OK season. Many people asked if "Game time Decision" Tate should be the man to take over the position from the guy who just got signed to a long term deal. Many people thought that Ben Tate was the BETTER PLAYER and I wanted to slap every single one of those people in the mouth. Tate, who hasn't been the healthiest guy since signing with Cleveland this offseason, is a good running back. He doesn't suck at all. He isn't Trent Richardson. But, he is not even in the same school let alone the same class as Arian Foster. Letting Foster go and replacing him with Tate would be like trading in your 700-class BMW for a Ford Fortiva. I'm not even sure what the hell a Ford Fortiva is, but it sure ain't a BMW. Arian Foster is Captain America and Ben Tate is Fan Boy and Chum-Chum. I need all of you to rewatch the game between the Texans and Titans from this past Sunday. All those things Mr. Namaste did that day? Tate can't do them. All of those touchdowns that Arian can create, ol' Ben just can't seem to do. I understand the nature of instant gratification of football and the severe A.D.D. of its fans, but saying that Ben Tate is better than Arian Foster is an exercise in modern stupidity. You guys are better than this. Wait, no you're not.

I get it. Arian Foster touched the ball 391 times in 2012, which preceded his injury. 331 times in 2011 and 393 touches in 2010. He's a workhorse. History tells us that guys like that often don't last long in the league. Here's the thing though. Foster isn't a violent runner. He isn't trying to go through you. He's trying to dance you to a wild miss. The only thing he wants to bruise is your ego; maybe shatter an ankle or two. When is the last time you saw someone lay the wood to the Master of the Namaste? One of those hits where you're like "He might not get up". I've yet to see one. That is not the kind of runner he his. Arian Foster is a smart man who knows he would likely want to retire and be able to eat whole foods when he's someone's abuelito. I don't know him personally, but he doesn't seem to be the type of guy who wants to be a bruised vegetable. Doesn't seem like his personality. Arian Foster is currently 2nd in the NFL in rushing with 766 yards on 5.2 yards per carry. He is second only to DeMarco Murray, who has rushed for 3,487 yards. Ok, so maybe not that many... but it seems like it. At this pace, Foster will finish with 1,532 yards on 292 carries with 48 receptions and 14 touchdowns. Let's put this in perspective. Compared to his previous non-injury seasons where he was a starter, the yards will be a career second best. Carries will be a career second lowest. Touchdowns a career 3rd best. Does that guy seem like he's on a decline? Lighter workload with equal production. Arian Foster is going through a renaissance this year. To me, he's the best running back in the NFL. I know that Murray has the numbers and all of the highlight reel runs where it seems like he's just obliterating linebackers and safeties. But Foster has the better discipline, field vision, ball control and has an uncanny ability to make something out of nothing because he is working with an inferior offensive line than Murray has and he has to deal with a slightly below-average quarterback. Give me Arian Foster on any given Sunday (or Monday, or Thursday......).

I get it. Arian Foster is not JJ Watt. He is not on any corny H-E-B commercials hocking burgers and steaks for your neighborhood block party. He doesn't kiss babies or play nice with others. He isn't an all-American boy with blonde hair and blue eyes or a guy you would take home to meet your apron wearing, Starbucks drinking, minivan driving ass mother. So, don't treat him like you want to him to be. Arian is a different breed of cat. During training camp Foster went on a media strike and refused to talk to anyone in the media until John McClain of the Houston Chronicle, who admittedly doesn't pay attention to training camp, ratted him out to the league office and forced him to speak to the devils. Even then he was just trying to be a good teammate. I'm going to venture out and take a wild guess as to why he has taken the stance that he has:

This really happened. They went to the man's house to ask him about a woman that he impregnated. This is buttfuckery at its finest. What is it to anyone in the media what that man did behind closed doors? The only person that he needed to answer to was Mrs. Foster. Not you. Not me. Definitely Isaiah Carey. What was the purpose of this ambush? Did this sack of fuck bugs really think that he was going to get some decent and rational answers? "Why, yes, Mr. Carey. I loaded her up with all kinds of skeet hyuck hyuck." Just utterly dumb. If you want an example on how NOT to handle and alienate an athlete and not want him to deal with you anymore, just do what these anal warts did. Someone once told me- and I don't remember who and I don't really want to remember because I don't want to have to unleash the fury of a thousand molded and maggoty cheeseburgers on someone- that the media was the reason that Arian Foster got his big contract. I laughed so hard, shit came out of my nose. Literally, shit came out. It is like I fell asleep and woke up in retard hell- AKA- Tennessee. Who really thinks of this stuff?

"Congrats Mr Foster on your new million dollar contract!"

Thanks Commissioner Teal! First off I would like to thank the media for always being there for me. You guys were the reason I got pushed out of my mother's uterus with my blessed ability to find the endzone. Without you, I wouldn't have been able to win that rushing title because you were always behind me with Parkay leaking out of your pores and your breath smelling like a roadkill buffet. This is for you, guys! I love you!

Absurd, right?

One of these days, Arian Foster will retire. He will clean out his locker, hold a final press conference where hopefully he goes on a 30 minute tirade about how much he hates every single member of the media and the idiots who tweet threats at him because he couldn't win them their fantasy football game even though they started Geno Smith (God he sucks) as their QB. Then he will ride off into the sunset likely never to be heard of again until his name comes up on the Hall of Fame ballot. Personally, that will be a sad day. I am surely going to miss that guy when he's gone. He's the best in the game right now and just a genuine asshole that I just want to hug. For now, Arian Foster is here to stay. We need to get used to it.

Heed his advice:

#staysuckafree

Until next time cabrones,

Juan