“Not caring about things since 1971, so that you don’t have to.”
7. Anything Richard Sherman says, on any subject, ever – Great player, utterly tiresome shit-talker. Classless in big moments. A genius self-promoter riding the bad boy image better than most movie stars. Could teach a few things to Brand Managers and Trend Specialists. Wore out his fifteen minutes fourteen minutes and two dreadlocks ago.
6. Anything Bill Belichick says, on any subject, ever – Without question a cheater. Or at the very least someone who pushes every rule up to and beyond the breaking point. So? Forget the unusual formations, anyone who thinks other teams weren’t taping their opponent’s practices at the exact same time that “Spygate” broke, is a fool. Anyone who thinks every quarterback and kicker in the NFL doesn’t have a preference as to how old/new/scuffed/inflated the balls they use are, not to mention a clubhouse boy to quietly get them into the preferred condition, is a fool. Remember when the Colorado Rockies were putting their balls in a humidor? How many World Series did they win? Barry Bonds may have crammed a raw glazed ham full of Clenbuterol down his throat three days a week, but it didn’t give him that gorgeous swing. In the end, the line between competitive advantage and actionable cheating is basically non-existent. All that’s left are grudges and arbitrary self-righteousness. Everyone loves a winner, except all the other losers. People who win as disdainfully as Belichick tend to breed constant enmity. Which doesn’t mean he’s not full of shit, just that the relative measuring of shit as parceled out between 32 coaches and 32 teams is pure masochism, not truth.
5. Anything Ray Lewis says, on any subject, ever – Plead guilty to obstruction of justice after being present while two men were stabbed to death by his friends at a party after Super Bowl XXXIV in Atlanta. The white suit he was wearing that night disappeared and was never located. Blood from one of the victims was found in his limo. Lewis initially lied to police, claiming not to be at the scene at all. He can currently be heard as a commentator on ESPN lecturing people on the ethics and legality of under-inflating balls.
4. Anything Pete Carroll says, on any subject, ever – Ran a dirty program at USC. Jumped ship just as NCAA sanctions were about to be announced, took the $ from the Seahawks and disingenuously claimed he was ready to leave anyway. Left his players in the capable hands of Lane Kiffin. Seattle has been plagued with numerous arrests, substance abuse issues, and PED violations under his watch. Has yet to be caught encouraging his players to wear illegal socks, or jockstraps with a Beast Mode logo on them.
3. Anything LeGarrette Blount says, on any subject, ever – The sucker punch heard ’round the world. Has mysteriously been on five different teams in a six-year career.
2. Anything Marshawn Lynch says, on any subject, ever – The man has nothing to say. Either he’s dumb as a bag of hammers, is constantly baked, has some sort of social anxiety disorder, or is taking a very deep and subversive political stance against a billion-dollar corporation. What difference does it make which one is true? He’s an absolute monster on the field, and a pleasure to watch grind defenses to jelly. Why does he have to talk? Why can’t the press leave him alone? Everyone knows he refuses to play the sound bite game, but reporters continue to try and goad him into saying something that they can then turn around and skewer him with. There are plenty of players that are dying to get their mug in front of a camera and recite clichés about it being a team game and giving a hundred and ten percent. Why not double down on the spotlight-fuckers instead? Richard Sherman would gladly do eighteen hours of MSNBC pundit shows five days a week if you put him behind a desk. The media charade concerning Marshawn Lynch is an embarrassment to the NFL, and smacks of racism and draconian politics. Dude is in permanent Beast Mode. Give him a Skittle and leave him alone.
1. Anything Tom Brady says, on any subject, ever – Yawn. Giselle. Uggs. Chin cleft. Four rings. Considered stubble. Went to Michigan. Wait, what else? Oh, yeah, nice intermediate touch to Amendola. Adept at play-action. Could not possible have an opinion worth hearing, let alone considering in any way. Will make a fine if stultifyingly dull color commentator for CBS in five years. Imminent spokesman for libertarian pizza chains and cinnamon body spray. Essentially Joe Montana, but without the insight or sparkling personality. Will happily allow the clubhouse ball boy to take the fall for the deflated footballs. Will buy off the ball boy’s silence with a tract of land in the Amazon basin and two of Giselle’s less Giselle-y sisters.
Days before the AFC Championship I was virtually certain this was Andrew Luck’s year. I thought for sure he was going to have one of those games where one ascendent player single-handedly wills an inferior team to a huge win, and attains true superstar status. But then I read that Trent Richardson had been left off the Colts’ active roster. And reserve linebacker Josh McNary was accused of rape. And one of their offensive linemen missed the team flight. At that point I knew the Colts were doomed. Every year, like Super Bowl XXXIII, when Ray Buchanan guaranteed a win and Eugene Robinson got busted for soliciting a prostitute the night before, some kind of circus atmosphere dooms a team, or at least shines a light on pre-existing discord. And so I changed my mind. I publicly pronounced that the Patriots were going to win, and win big. Which they did, 45-7. By this logic, due to the (will not type “D_____gate”) deflation thing, the Seahawks should cruise to a huge win of their own.
Prediction: The Seahawks have a better defensive line and LaGarette Blount is too slow. He’s not going anywhere. If Marshawn Lynch runs wild, the Patriots are doomed. On the other hand, if the Seahawks play like they did against Green Bay, there will be no miracle comeback. In that case, the Patriots will score, and won’t settle for pussy field goals like Mike McCarthy chose to, thereby handing over the game to the team with the stones to actually go for the win (like, say, attempt a fake field goal) as opposed to just trying not to lose it.
Either way, midway through the second quarter the eventual winner of this one will be obvious. Whoever grabs the throat first is going to choke the life out of the other team.
Final score: Patriots, 33-17