First, let me say, I wasn’t going to write this blog until Friday, but for the sake of my girlfriend’s sanity and the future of our relationship, I needed to get out my snide comments and sarcastic witticisms before I do any more irreversible damage.
Let’s just say she was not amused when I called her a “borderline midget” even though she is 5’2” and a whole one-third of a foot away from being a legal dwarf. I was clearly joking. Why she puts up with me, I have no clue.
Let’s move on.
According to ESPN, Brett Favre can do no wrong. He helps old ladies cross the street, adopts lost kittens from the pound, and if they had to venture a guess for who would find the cure for cancer, I’m pretty sure they would pick Brett Favre.
Who cares if he’s only a mediocre NFL quarterback anymore? I mean, the man was just in a Super Bowl in 1997. Wait, that was 12 years ago already? Somebody go get John Madden’s inhaler.
And then, of course, they would go on to force meaningless Brett Favre stories down our throats for the next week, making sure to get all their top analysts to line up and kiss Favre’s butt for 30-second clips.
I can just picture Merrill Hoge, Ron Jaworski, Chris Mortensen, and Trent Dilfer all sitting together in the makeup room, competing to see who can squeeze the most superlatives into a 300-word speech. I set the over/under at 20, bet my life savings on the over, and then put my future children’s college education money on Jaws. It’s a stone cold lock.
Continuing with overpaid, underperforming quarterbacks, I pose a simple question: Where would Eli Manning be without his last name? A store manager at Sports Authority? The UFL? If he was lucky, a backup quarterback in the NFL?
Seriously, the dude was good in college, but I never watched him and thought, “Man, this guy sure has what it takes to be a legit NFL quarterback.”
And then to force a trade so he could be in a major market? If that doesn’t scream douchebag, I don’t know what does. Anyone with an IQ over 75 could tell he would crumple under the pressure in New York.
I know there are some of you out there that will say, “How can he be overrated? He won a Super Bowl MVP.” It’s not that simple.
First of all, he didn’t even play that well; 19-for-34 and a QB rating of 87.3 hardly screams MVP. Second, the pass that won him the award was complete luck and never should have left his hand. How he wasn’t sacked is beyond me. And if you re-did that jump ball matchup of Rodney Harrison and 18th-string wide receiver David Tyree five million times, do you see Tyree ever winning again? I don’t.
So let’s recap. He’s good in college, gets drafted No. 1 overall because of the hope he will turn out to be half of what his brother is, sucks for four years, rides the best defensive line in the history of the NFL to a magical playoff run, receives the good fortune of the luckiest play in Super Bowl history, has his first decent season in his contract year but loses Plax, and then instantly turns in four straight sub-200-yard games, dupes the Giants into one of the biggest (and worst) contracts in NFL history, and now will rely on Domenik Hixon and Hakeem Nicks as his top receivers this year.
I am not bitter at all.
The only thing I care less about than Brett Favre. The only players I would care about if they tested positive would be Derek Jeter and Albert Pujols, but until then, I’d rather watch highlights of the WNBA preseason.
I used to like them; I really did. All the history, Fenway Park, Ted Williams, Larry Bird, Bill Russell. There was just something likeable about them. Maybe it was being able to empathize with a team who had encountered so much epically bad luck, or maybe it was how passionate Bostonians were about their sports no matter what happened year in and year out.
But then 2004 hit, and all hell broke loose. The curse was over, and Boston’s collective sports personality went from cynical to cocky after a routine Ruben Sierra groundout to Pokey Reese. There wasn’t even a need to play the Cardinals after that. The ensuing four-game sweep was inevitable.
The one-time lovable losers quickly forgot their storied past and took on a whole new identity, more annoying than those Guido, workout three hours a day, wear shirts one size too small, collar-popping Mets fans from New Jersey. You could say the success got to their heads.
The Patriots become the best team in the NFL, the Red Sox break the curse, and the Celtics are given the Big Three in an act of collusion between ESPN and David Stern. Hell, even the Bruins are a playoff team, Matt Ryan leads Boston College to a spectacular year, and Boston University has one of the greatest comebacks in the history of college hockey. The altogether success was mind-boggling.
But this is where it gets annoying. That isn’t enough for them. Now they have to win every year.
I came in contact with this firsthand this past year in the dorms at Oregon, where I met Alon. We were talking baseball, one by one going through the Red Sox roster: Jacoby Ellsbury, Dustin Pedroia, Kevin Youkilis, Jason Bay, David Ortiz, Mike Lowell, J.D. Drew, Josh Beckett, Jon (Mo) Lester, Tim Wakefield, the bullpen, etc.
ESPN, SI, everybody has them pegged as a playoff team and a legitimate World Series candidate, yet Alon complains to me, knowing I am an A’s fan, “I don’t really like our team this year. We need a better second lefty out of the pen.” Wow.
The San Francisco Giants
It’s already 1:30, and I have to wake up in six hours. Unless I want to go to work tomorrow with bags under my eyes bigger than the size of Greg Anderson’s prison cell, I am going to save this for an entirely new post. Good night.