Stupid Shit Comes In Threes
So after who knows how damned long without much of substance going on in football worth commenting on (yeah, yeah, free agency — but, shit, man, does the world need one more goofball analyzing every fucking signing?) all of a sudden there’s all kinds of stuff happening that simply has to be noted, and it happens on an amazingly busy day for me. Still, I can hardly be expected to resist. So, in as few words as I can hold myself too (or as many as time will allow, depending on how it works out):
Smart, guys. Real smart.
Here’s a piece about some draft prospects — remember, the NFL draft is just around the corner, April 23 & 24 — who pissed positive for pot at the fucking combine. What the fuck? I mean, is it just me or is it beyond fucking idiotic to go into a situation where you’re gonna be sized up for the potential to make hundreds of thousands and possibly millions of dollars — and you know that sizing up is gonna include a piss test, and you know pissing positive for weed will cause you, at the very least, to slip in the draft (which means slip in potential pay) — with goddamn pot lingering in your system? What the hell is wrong with these guys? Now, don’t get me wrong. I still think the NFL has no business testing anyone for pot (or any other drug that doesn’t enhance performance) or having a policy about anything that doesn’t hurt a players’ ability to perform on the field. But the fact of the matter is that the league does have a fucking policy on that; it’s a legal policy; it’s a policy that has the OK of the NFL Players Association; and it’s a policy that the league has demonstrated it plans to enforce. So, gents, put the fucking joint down when you know you’re gonna have to piss. Just put it down. Yeah, smoking dope is fun. And, yeah, there’s really absolutely nothing wrong with smoking dope. And, yeah, it’s your last semester in college, and shit if that stuff isn’t everydamnedwhere you look, but this is your fucking career here. And to top off the fact that you’re now gonna slide in the draft — not because anyone thinks pot hurts your ability to perform, but because everyone knows pots hurts your ability not to get fucking suspended by the league and no one wants some pothead riding the pine while their team’s playoff chances are on the line (as they are every week in the NFL) — you’ve also gotta face getting pissed twice a month for at least the next season, which means that instead of quitting pot for like a month, you now pretty much have to quit for a year. So you fucked yourselves twice. Morons. Morons.
T.O. the asshole strikes again
It’s what, two and a half months since Terrell Owens won the respect of pretty much everyone in the football watching world with his gutsy performance in Super Bowl XXXIX and here he is determined to throw it all away. T.O. wants to renegotiate his seven-year, $49 million dollar deal with the Philadelphia Eagles, because, get this, last year when he agreed to the contract his then-agent had no leverage in negotiations. It’s true, of course. Terrell didn’t want to play for the 49ers anymore, and he didn’t want to be traded to the Ravens, so he squirmed his way out of that deal with help from the league and the Eagles and, no fucking kidding, Philly used it’s strong bargaining position to its advantage. Because that’s what you do in business. So poor goddamn Terrell now has to play football for a measly $7 million a year. Can you believe it? He can’t. And he wants a do-over, only this time with him in the catbird seat. But that’s not how business works. If Terrell wanted more money, he could have gone to Baltimore, where he’d have held all the damned cards. But he wanted a chance to win championships, so he settled for what the Eagles had to offer. And when you make those kinds of compromises, you’re expected to live with them. I keep thinking what would I do if the person who sold me my house were to come back and say, “You know, when I sold that house, I just needed to get out of town and move to Boston. I wasn’t in a good bargaining position and you took advantage of that to negotiate a good deal. Now I want some extra money.” I say I keep thinking, by the way, not keep wondering, because I don’t have to wonder. What I’d do is laugh in their face. You live with the deals you make. Crybaby. Fuckwad.
Ron Mexico
I was trying to figure out if I had anything to say about the whole Ron Mexico thing when Scott wrote to ask for my take. You know about the Ron Mexico deal, right? Ever since it came out in a suit that Atlanta Falcons quarterback apparently uses the alias Ron Mexico, people have been ordering Falcons shirts with Vick’s number and the name Mexico on them from the NFL Shop. But no more says the NFL. The league has banned sale of the shirts. Why? Who knows? Well, actually, I know. It’s because the NFL, a great league in many ways, has a big fat stick up its ass when it comes to anyone having any kind of sense of humor about it and its precious product. I mean, look, something tells me Vick can handle the heat. Actually, something tells me that with the suit that’s hanging over him hanging over him, he’s probably got bigger things to worry about than whether people are having some fun at the expense of his porn star name or whatever it is. (This is not to imply Mr. Vick is, was or ever will be a porn star, by the way, Mr. Attorney Whatever-Your-Name Is — but go ahead and send the cease and desist letter if you must; I could use the page views — it’s a gag about aliases — you know the thing where you’re porn star name is like your middle name plus the street you were born on, neither of which may be the case with Vick, if he even uses that name — but, oh, fuck, you know what? It’s a joke about his stupid alias. Get it. Stupid name. Stupid.) I don’t know. To my mind, this, not anything to do with rules changes, is why the league deserves the tag No Fun League.
