Thursday, September 25, 2008

Jon Kitna: 1. Matt Millen: 0.

Either I am some kind of impressive psychic or Jon Kitna's influence on the heavenly ear is far more than even he thought. In news that nobody is at all sad about except for Matt Millen, Matt Millen finally got fired from his reign of terrorizing ineptitude in Detroit, in news that came about 114 games too late for Lions fans. Earlier this year, in my "roundup" of NFL news, I mentioned that Jon Kitna and Kurt Warner had a prayer session to deliver them from Matts, and thus far, it seems to be working. Millen finally got the boot, and Warner won over the starting QB job from Leinart, which means we need to steal their prayer diaries to see what else they're planning to call down on us now that they've finally succeeded in securing God's attention. (Kitna must be on it to get his knee fixed and throw fewer picks. First one: in the realm of possibility. Second one: call in the backups, Gabriel). Lions-Cardinals NFC championship game, here we come!

In case you haven't noticed, I really like writing snark about quarterbacks. I promise I may write an actual football post soon, but there's just so much other material to follow up with, especially since all my tongue-in-cheek recaps have turned out to be remarkably accurate. I can't wait to see what happens next.

Also, my boy Jay is still pretty awesome. Just thought I'd throw that out there.

Sunday, September 21, 2008


I mean, Gawddd, you'd never notice him. He's so, you know. Like, so. Inconthpicuouth.

Derek Anderson has to be hearing the footsteps now. After amassing a stunning stat line of 2 TD/5 INT/405 YD/43.5 RTG to start the season, GUESS WHO is lurking, waiting to take his place, to shock everyone with an explosion of starlight and pixie dust, and just be super duper fabulous on his way to leading the Browns to 13 straight wins, an AFC North title, a first round bye, dramatic victories over the Colts and Steelers, and an epic showdown in the Super Bowl against the Cowboys. Which he will then win, of course. Because Brady is just that cool. Because there is no resisting the allure of his shaggy hair, soulful eyes, chiseled abs, and overwhelming douchebaggery. Because the Brady Quinn Era is coming NOW. Because there ain't nothin' that can stand before the Cumslinger, Reborn.

But hey, don't go thinking that about Brady. He's just a nice Catholic boy who's been waiting for his chance. He hasn't been spiking Anderson's Gatorade with laxatives or anything nasty like that. He's just been doing his duty, serving his time, waiting patiently. He's a good kid. He's not gay, not if there was anything wrong with that if he was. Just because he can match color samples better than anyone on the team doesn't mean anything. You guys are so hard on him, seriously. Brady's not that bad. Sure, he's kind of got that spoiled athlete look down pat, and it's hard not to be jealous that the guy is making five kabillion dollars to stand on the sideline and perfect the angle of his pout, but c'mon. Wouldn't you want to be paid a lot of money to do something you loved? How can you fault him for working hard all his life to be rewarded like this? He's taken what he's been given and he certainly doesn't wish ill on Anderson so his time will come, since he knows it will. He just trusts in his God-given talent and lets the chips fall where they may. Seriously. You're too hard on him. Lay off.

I... uh....

Well, um, hem...

I'm sure there's a perfectly innocent explanation...

My dearest Mr. Quinn, I regret to inform you that you make it much too easy.

Monday, September 8, 2008

Matt Cassel Iz A Believer

Earlier this year, I touched on the fact that Matt Cassel had become the Patriots' resident sports theologian after continuing to struggle with the question of why God hates him so much and does not want him to play football. Behind Tom Brady, it looked as if the next time he played any sort of meaningful snap, it would be in Madden. But all Matt's years of imploring God and promising blood sacrifices have evidently not been in vain. Everyone has heard by now what happened -- Brady got Bernard Pollarded and is a wash for the year, Masshole fans have been committing suicide en masse, and Matt is rather taken aback at the success of his voodoo -- he was hoping for results, but not nearly so fast. He would have really preferred another few months to hide the evidence learn the playbook, dump his wife, and find a better, hotter supermodel to take her place, before turning into a flaming metrosexual and GQ cover boy, plus adding another hundred points or so to his career passer rating. Only then does Matt Cassel, Patriots Starting Quarterback *, feel confident enough to take over the reins.

* He and Aaron Rodgers have a lot to talk about.

Matt Cassel Sees God.

Now Matt, not Tom, will be in control of the Patriots offense, responsible for taking the snaps, reading the coverage, scanning for receivers, perfecting his fist pump, washing his jersey, developing a picture-perfect cleft in his chin, impregnating at least three women out of wedlock by the end of the year, buying a pashmina, bringing Laurence Maroney Gatorade on the sidelines, giving Tedy Bruschi his medicine, keeping Tawmmy from Quinzee in the stands and not on the field, instructing Kevin O'Connell in the serious art of holding the clipboard and pretending he has one iota of self-esteem, informing any gullible young supermodel that happens to be walking by that he's the Patriots' starting quarterback, selflessly volunteering to be the crash test dummy for the Giants' defense to practice on, and serving as Bill Belichick's general dogsbody, whether it's seducing his latest conquest, picking up his dry cleaning, re-painting his car, arranging his newspapers, making his coffee, sharpening his pencils, approving his evil smirk, or bending over in the shower room and taking it like a man after a bad defeat. Not, of course, that this would ever happen to the Patriots. Shock. Horror.

Honestly, you almost have to feel bad for the poor kid.

Get it together, chucklehead.

I'm serious, your days of sitting on the sidelines and dozing off are over.

Come on. Serious face! SERIOUS FACE!

You guys are screwed.