Brandon Marshall Vs. McDonald's Bag. Brandon Loses

Well, isn't this just the kind of news I want to hear on the heels of the Broncos opening their offseason strength and conditioning program in Englewood today. Brandon Marshall, the Broncos' top WR, has some kind of arm injury that will keep him in a cast for a few weeks and a splint for months after that, although they say he will supposedly be ready for full-fledged training camp in July. Nor was it just a little cut, as he said, as the NFL Network has said that the injury is serious -- Marshall somehow having managed to sever an artery, a vein, a nerve, and tendons of five muscles, which sounds incredibly painful and pretty serious, especially when your job description involves hauling in footballs for a living. It's hard enough to catch them with two good arms and hands, and definitely close to impossible with one. Marshall is by far our best WR and this is not good news.

How did this little mishap coming about? Marshall evidently told the team that it was incurred by wrestling with his family members -- some wrestling match, I hope some deadbeat uncle didn't pull a switchblade or something. But in a published report in the Rocky Mountain News, he claimed he slipped on a fast-food bag, and when trying to break his fall, put his arm through an entertainment center. Naturally, I'm a little suspicious of both these explanations, and I pray that Marshall hasn't been doing something stupid like his teammate Marcus Thomas, or like Tim Hudson in the 2003 ALDS, getting into a bar fight in Boston. He's already waiting a delayed trial on DUI charges, and I have a really low tolerance for the consistently thuggish behavior of NFL players. Besides, the Broncos are doing their best to catch up with the Falcons or Bengals in terms of the All-Con team, and that naturally reflects poorly on the team and city. (They were also named as primary customers of a high-priced escort service, but I haven't heard anything more on that, yet...) I wish they'd give it a rest, and I hope that Marshall gets better quickly, as we need him catching passes. We also need him telling the truth and staying out of trouble. Le sigh.

With baseball season starting, I've been getting back to Sparks of Dementia more, and I know I have left the Quarterback Quizzes unfinished for the moment, with the Raiders, Seahawks, Cardinals, 49ers, and Rams left to go. When the draft rolls around on April 26-27, I'll probably be ready to post some football and will cover both draft results and (hopefully) finish the quizzes. Then again, I might even do that beforehand. Possibly.

Tom Brady's Big Mistake

That is, of course, if you believe this story. Allegedly, Tom and his arm-candy supermodel could not contain their bounteous lusts, and had to give in to a session of the horizontal (vertical) mambo in a NYC restaurant wine cellar, which would have been standard-issue behavior for your young, insanely rich, attractive, famous power couple... if they hadn't been caught on videotape doing it. Yep, sounds like a juicy, and probably untrue, celebrity sex tape scandal to me, and if this by some chance actually did happen, then I hope it gets disseminated everywhere and Bill Belichick gives Brady a reaming. The funny thing is, Brady's incredible on the field and pretty much an ever-worsening douchenozzle off it, but even I can't see him having the phenomenally bad judgment to do this. (Assuming it is true, and not just some rabid anti-Patriots weirdo raving about a fictional tape that, to be honest, most Patriots fans would watch, if only to imagine themselves in Gisele's place... I mean, what?) Brady already isn't the most popular figure in the NFL, but he does have the image of the Golden Boy, for better or worse, and he had to know that things like this don't stay quiet. Does he really want Sextapegate looming over his head at every turn like Babygate (the fact that he has a son with his ex-girlfriend, which was returned to ad nauseam at various points during the season) did last year? Does he really WANT to give Patriots-haters even more ammunition, crumble his image, and kick away the last idea that he is anything other than your typical shallow, vain, overly horny and minimally intelligent celebrity?

Hey, you never know. Sticking it in a Victoria's Secret model on Candid Camera? That's worth a whole friggin' ton of lifetime memories, and I guess he has to console himself somehow for not winning that fourth Super Bowl ring. I mean, aside from playing football and not seeing his son, how many hobbies can a guy have? Besides, it was a traumatic loss, so after being the Giants' little bitch all night, he feels the need to prove his masculinity and the fact that he is still better than you. Idiot. If the boy isn't careful, he's going to have a little Brady-Bundchen to go with the Brady-Moynahan model already in existence, and wouldn't that be a tragedy? Although he might see this version a little bit more... don't worry, Tom, knock up seven more starlets and you'll be the glitterati version of Travis Henry! You will also need every penny of that $60 million contract to pay child support, although you might recoup it all if you go on Jerry Springer.

Brady Quinn Is Not Amused

Derek Anderson got a new contract from the Browns, who were reluctant to tinker with the juju that brought them their first winning season in quite a while -- leaving Queen to warm the bench, hold the clipboard, and mutter fruitlessly and be in denial for another few years. Despite being rich and self gay-hating, Queen just CAN'T get to be the starter on his own TEAM! It was never this bad at Notre Dame! In any case, I don't think the two Browns quarterbacks are exactly friends at this moment.

Due to my super-powered listening skills, I have determined that the conversation at the time this picture was taken was going something like this:

Anderson: I'm rich now, Brady.
Queen (grumpily): So am I, Derek.
Anderson: And I get to start.
Queen (muttering): Up yours.
Anderson: I'll pass.
Queen: You're just jealous 'cuz YOU'RE not a sex symbol.
Anderson: [long look] [decides against commenting]
Queen: ALL I WANT IS A LITTLE LOVE, IS THAT ALL RIGHT?!
Anderson: Dude. Chill the f*ck out.
Queen: I hate my life.
Anderson: Sorry to hear that. You still have it better than 99.9% of the people on this planet.
Queen: Somebody buy me a Mai Tai.
Anderson: No.
Queen: Be my friend, Derek.
Anderson: No.
Queen: Want some skittles?
Anderson: No.
Queen: Wanna taste the rainbow?
Anderson: No.
Queen: Come on, Derek! It was just a question! Why do you have to be so tempera--mental --
Anderson: Mr. Crennel? Is that you, Mr. Crennel! Yes, of course, I'm ready to run a scrimmage!
[runs off]
Queen (suspiciously): The defense is on the field, genius. See, I'm going to be a starting quarterback, I should notice these things.
[Anderson fails to return]
Queen (depressed): I must suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune alone.
Queen (nobly): It is my destiny. I, Brayden Tyler Quinn, will be a star one day, and no one can tell me otherwise for following my heart, for living my dream, for doing my best, and standing aside and waiting until the opportune moment. I have only one life, I must live it to the fullest. I must put aside those who do not care for me, who do not love me, and trust in myself in this wild, strange, long journey across the heartland of America into the hearts of pigskin-loving souls the country over. They will love me then, and I will love them back, and I will show them all along, I have held them in the same tender regard in which they esteem me.
Queen: [bursts into tears]
Queen: Damn, Brady, that was good.
[Anderson runs by, muttering]
Anderson: I changed my mind. I think I'll go to free agency after all.

Presented With No Comment

I swear.... I swear....

From Cleveland.com:

Cleveland Browns quarterback Brady Quinn was part of a group of men shouting insults at gay passers-by outside a Columbus bar early on New Year's Day, according to a 9-1-1 call made to police.

The call at 2:35 a.m. came from Seth Harris, who reported that he encountered the group in front of La Fogata Grill at 790 North High St. The Mexican restaurant is next door to the Union Cafe Bar + Food, one of Columbus' most popular gay bars in the gay-friendly Short North neighborhood.

I swear. I won't say anything. I won't even remark on why crotch-grabber extraordinaire Quinn, upon being caught in a gay neighborhood, resorts to closeted self-loathing. Pot, kettle.... And yet, I can't hate Brady Quinn. You can't hate him either, even though he seems intent on giving you opportunity to do so at every turn. He is just good for laughter, and laughter is a good thing for all of us. Then again, he is a gigantic vagina, except.... okay, that's too easy, I won't go there. Brady Queen sounds better.

Update: Yet another amusing picture of everybody's favorite sexually confused draft holdout has surfaced. I don't know if it's been altered or not (found it on Deadspin) but I think it proves my point.

Also, one other thing. The incident allegedly took place on New Year's, which is traditionally a big party day for Queen's species. * Young Brady, who is found to be attractive by many members of the female sex (myself not included) is also amply provisioned with $20 million in his pockets and plays the most high-profile position on a team with singularly devoted fans, a few years off a successful career for a high-profile collegiate program. And yet, instead of off finding beautiful women in a feeble attempt to prove his heterosexuality and celebrate 2008, he has nothing better to do than stand outside gay bars and call the crow black while wearing a fine set of raven feathers stuck to his butt? **

Jon Kitna, who does not approve of this behavior***, will be profiled tonight.

* Young stupid jocks.

** The raven feathers are not mentioned in the report, but they very easily COULD have been there. In fact, they were, you just needed 3-D spy glasses to see them.

*** The gayness, that is.

Patriots Fans: Still Mensa Material

Shoe's not so sweet when it's on the other foot, huh?

In an act of breathtaking idiocy which often seems to characterize this brain-cell-lacking fanbase, some enterprising and sadly, sadly misguided Patriots-fan potatohead wrote a petition to NFL commissioner Roger Goodell asking for the last 1:40 of the Super Bowl to be reviewed. Because... wait for it, wait for it... they think the Giants cheated by stopping the clock after the play was over and they were out of timeouts! They might have gotten two extra seconds! Never mind that the play was stopped by the referees while there was a measurement, since it was Brandon Jacobs getting a first down on a 4th-and-1 situation! Never mind that the Patriots accusing anyone of cheating is like Genghis Khan accusing Joe Schmo Serial Killer of bumping off too many people!

Fortunately, a great deal of the signatures on the petition are people who are deservedly blasting this group of whiny, entitled cheaters who think that because their beloved St. Brady got knocked around and Eli Manning gave him a bitter taste of his own medicine, they are somehow still "deserving" to be 19-0. Look, you idiots. The Patriots had 35 seconds with the ball, and went 4-and-out with a few missed Hail Marys in 34 seconds. All right, so you want more time to have the ball? Then Eli can prolong your agony and kneel down three times instead of one at the end of the game. Oh, sure, let's replay the 1:40 and let Brady get absolutely leveled by Jay Alford a few more times, that'd be fun. What is really just very sad and illuminating of you people's twisted psyche is that you cannot accept you got flat outplayed by a defense that was in Brady's face, around his legs, or jumping on his back all night. You in short are being introduced to why even Eagles, Redskins, and Cowboys fans were pulling for the Giants -- to save us all from your holier-than-thou "oh-whine-whine we clearly deserved this" bullshit.

I'm on the fence about the Pats team themselves, generally veering toward the dislike side, but their fans... yeah, I've mentioned before I can't stand the lot of them. Go back to 2005 and cry in your beer with Seahawks fans, but first, please wash the sand out of your vaginas, and since I am myself a woman, that is a grave insult. You are not "entitled" to be 19-0. You as a matter of fact have to admit that you met a team playing -- gasp! -- better football than you. It happens. I hope you lose twice to the Dolphins next year, then you'll really have something to cry about.

I still think it's hysterical that the Patriots fans are the ones complaining the Giants cheated (which they did not). Look, people, you should have lost to the Ravens before they bewilderingly let Rex Ryan, a defensive coordinator, call a timeout. The Ravens, as will be further elucidated in my Quarterback Quiz this evening, were by all accounts and measures a shitty football team this year. This is called karma, again, and thank God we were saved from you self-righteous douchenozzles being awarded the ability to preen, because we'd all have jumped into the sea by now and left you to take over the world. AAAAAAAH. No wonder I'm so jaded about humanity.

Now, I am willing to be charitable and admit that not all Patriots fans are this toxically idiotic. I will, however, bewail the State of the Pats/Sox/Bandwagon Nation at large.

I am ever more appreciative of the New York Giants' victory. Thank you, New York Giants.

Bootgate: I Despair of Human Civilization

Honestly, is there not one sports-related media outlet that has nothing better to do with their time than print breathless minute-by-minute updates on whether or not Tom Brady is wearing a boot on his right foot? Look, I know the man's a big celebrity and he's going to be playing in his fourth Super Bowl next week, but please. First off, I'm fairly sure it's all another Belichick mind game, and Brady's perfectly fine, and secondly, nobody really gives a crap. Is he or isn't he wearing a walking cast? What did he give Gisele, bodega lilies or those ridiculous white posies he was carting to her cool $16.5 million West Village pad? How much was their check for dinner at Butter? I mean, come on, people. Maybe I just fundamentally misunderstand the cult of celebrity and sports that exists in America. I may not be the fondest of Brady (or of his coquettish-nymphette-ice-queen girlfriend) but sheez. Cut 'em a break. You're doing exactly what Belichick wanted you to do, which is try to bamboozle everyone into thinking that Brady was somehow less than 100%, and since you are such gullible and easily manipulated fools, he can pretty much start yanking the marionette strings to make you dance.

As I have said, I don't have that great of a fondness for Brady as a person, but I don't doubt that football is his entire life and he loves it with the consuming passion that has gotten him to the current high status he enjoys. To my horror, I find myself paraphrasing Peter King when I say that, if there was any chance his availability would be in question, he'd be in Foxborough getting it treated, not waltzing around midtown with his panty model. Then again, maybe hot blonde pieces of ass can throw off your concentration (see: Romo, Tony) but not this Brady. He came out of Michigan as a long shot to be a backup, let alone a starter, let alone the massive award-winning sexpot machine he's turned into. As I said, he sometimes creeps me out, but I think it's an insult to what he's done to doubt that he takes his job very, very seriously. So in other words, there is no story here, people. Put down the spyglasses and get a job aside from print voyeurism.

Step Back From The Cliff Edge

Apparently it's all rumor and incorrect hearsay that Jessimo is broken up, and Jessica is so angry about this calumny that she's called her lawyers in to make OK! magazine publish a "prominent and unambiguous retraction." So, in other words, Tony Romo actually isn't as bright as I didn't think he was. He's a pro athlete, so let's just say he doesn't pick 'em for their ability to converse on Proust, Spinoza, Tocqueville, and Habermas. Jessica probably thinks those are types of vodka.

Jessimo is dead. Long live Jessimo! It's all right! The world turns! Thank heavens, we avoided a catastrophe there. If Tony should last that long with this vacuum-headed bimbo, look for the calls for dumpage to begin right after his first shitty preseason game.

What A Sad, Sad Day

Moment of silence, everyone.

Please, pipe down, this needs to be properly observed. It is a catastrophe of epic proportions and the world may never see something like it again. I am shocked and heartbroken.

Tony Romo has given the boot to Jessica Simpson.

NOOOOO! WHATEVER SHALL WE DO?!

Next Quarterback Quiz: sometime this afternoon. Quarterback of team? New York Football Giants. Tony wishing how much he'd done this before that game? A lot.

In other news, the Giants are going to almost beat the Patriots.

Guess They Breed 'Em Crazy Everywhere

We all know that football players are thugs, but now we find that they are dating thugettes as well:

Steeler's girlfriend arrested after standoff

Honestly, is it any wonder that these guys are always in trouble?

Lest You Think

that only Patriots fans are psychotic, I bring you compelling evidence to the contrary:

Father forces son to wear Pack jersey

So, this luminary and front-running candidate for Father of the Year evidently decided that since his 7-year-old wouldn't wear a Green Bay Packers jersey while they were whupping holy hell out of the Seattle Seahawks, there was proper call to tape him to a chair for an hour while also taping the disputed jersey to his person. Now, I'm sure that not all Cheeseheads are such bad parents, so I shall refrain from smearing anyone unnecessarily. But seeing as we were just talking about how sports fans are irrational by nature, maybe we should open an investigation into just how much they actually are. Booing your team's rival is one thing; physically forcing your young son to wear a jersey is quite another.

Then again, the report mentions that other domestic issues had surfaced, so maybe the guy's just off his rocker and the sports thing is just the tip of the iceberg. Fortunately, his wife asked for a restraining order against him, otherwise the fruitcake might be blithely forcing goldfish, doorknobs, mailboxes, and little old ladies to don Green and Gold. I hope his son grows up to root for the Bears or the Cowboys, just to spite him.