(An artist’s rendition of Peyton Manning)
Now, if he can only get that walking on water thing down…
I’ll have you know that last night was the one and presumably only time in my life that I rooted for the Steelers. Well, if we’re being technical about it, I was actually rooting for a rogue meteorite to take out the RCA Dome and everyone in it thereby resulting in a dual loss by both the Colts AND the Steelers. But, failing that, a Steeler win would have been slightly easier to stomach than another rendition in the Peyton Manning-sponsored masturbatory exercises emanating from the Midwest and every broadcast booth and magazine cover this side of Mars.
And spare me the “But the media loves Tom Brady” argument too because frankly, I don’t care. Also, I’ve metaphorically locked him in a closet after Sunday’s game and he’s only allowed to come out once he’s written a personal apology to everyone who watched that debacle. Oh, and his offensive line is in there with him. So is the defensive secondary. Or they would be assuming the Patriots, you now, HAD a defensive secondary. Can we get Asante Samuel some hazard pay since he seems to be the only one flying around the field like a dreadlocked heat-seaking missle? Goddamn, this team is embarrasing.
We’ve got the 2-9 Jets coming into town this Sunday which, under normal circumstances would be good news, but with the team held together by bubble gum and Lincoln Logs, I’m not sure how much of a difference it makes.
And then there’s the Bruins. Sergei Samsonov is warning his teammates that if they don’t start winning, people will be traded or shipped off wholesale. Brian Leetch, just back from a knee injury, is ripping his teammates for, I guess, sucking. And owner Jeremy Jacobs has publicly criticized the team. So everyone knows that something’s wrong. So what, I ask, do they plan to do to fix it?
According to Samsonov, “There are a lot of angry faces around here, and we have to bring that to the game.” That’s right, Sammy boy, and all too often, they belong to yours truly. I don’t like being angry. I’m not pleasant when I’m angry. Don’t believe me? I suggest you ask a one Mr. Keith Foulke. He’ll let you in on a little secret: Don’t piss me off. Now, I’ll be there on Thursday, probably drunk and beligerent and if I don’t see a little hustle, I WILL come down there and beat you chuckleheads with your own sticks. Don’t think I’m afraid of you.
Now, as for the Red Sox, allow me for just one moment to address Manny Ramirez personally.
Dude, again? Seriously, what is your problem? You want to play somewhere where people won’t recognize you and your wife when you go to the mall? Okay, listen up, slugger. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this but your wife is gorgeous. She’d be getting attention regardless of whether she’s married to you or not. In fact, I’d venture a guess that the people gawking at her don’t even realize that she’s your wife. That’s the price you pay for marrying a bombshell, man. Tough. As for you, listen, by all accounts you’re a lovely guy who’s fun to be around, but you’re not, what we’d call, a rocket scientist. However, you were born with the ability to hit a baseball really freakin’ far. And because the world is unfair and teachers make nothing while you get paid $20 million a year to hit said baseball, you are able to make quite a nice living with that skill. So you’re tired of being recognized when you go to the mall? I have only one thing to say to you: Amazon.com. God. Suck it up or shut up.
And Josh Beckett, I’ve got my eye on you. Truth be told, I’m still not sure what to think of this. I’d grown kind of fond of having a farm system but I guess we all realized that when we signed Edgah for all eternity, Hanley probably wasn’t gonna be hanging around. So, okay, I guess. And if we do, in fact trade David Wells, in essence, the acquisition of Beckett replaces Wells’ wins so, it’s a wash. Oh, a wash minus 17 years in age. Which is nice.
Of course, Mike Lowell and his inflated contract patrolling third base territory effectively ends the tenure of Bill Mueller in Boston. A loss for which, frankly, I have not yet mentally prepared myself. I say we start a movement to get Buelly the third base coach’s job. I know we’ve already hired DeMarlo Hale to replace Send ‘Em In Sveum, but there’s no way Buelly would be worse. Plus, he’d raise the aesthetic merits of the game about a billion percent.
Wait, the Red Sox still need a GM, right? That’s it, I’m applying…