Elway, Manning, Tebow and why God hates me

He’s the kind of guy that you hate with a passion, until he comes to your team.

I’m a Raider fan and make no apologies for that. I’ve loved the Raiders since I was a kid and I will until the day I die. I tell you this so you understand why I’m saying the things I’m saying in this post.




Monday morning I woke up feeling good. The previous evening was spent making fun of Aubrey O Day as I watched Celebrity Apprentice and I was looking forward to seeing what the day held. I threw on a t-shirt, grey cardigan, jeans, Converse and after my 19-year-old daughter (who I affectionately call Drama Queen) was off to school I went to eat breakfast. As I sipped green tea and ate blackberries and raspberries I turned on my computer and immediately felt sick. “Manning chooses Broncos” appeared on my screen.
“Jesus Christ” I yelled. “This blows.” There was no one in the house with me but I still felt the need to vocally declare my unhappiness. As a Raider fan the Broncos were the last team I wanted Peyton to go to. Don’t get me wrong, I respect the hell out of Manning and what he’s done in his career. He’s one of the best ever and that’s precisely the reason I’m less than thrilled about the choice of teams.
The last thing I want is for my Raiders to once again face one of the greatest quarterbacks of all time twice a year but as I continued to contemplate the ramifications of the event I was struck with the proverbial silver lining to this very black cloud. Manning coming in means that the person I detest most in the NFL, Tim Tebow (or as I like to call him, “Teblow”), is getting kicked to the curb.
My favorite clipboard holder will be getting a new home and that makes me very happy. I never got the whole Tebowmania thing. The guy completed 46.5% of his passes (126 of 271) and had a QB rating of 72.9. Dude lost to Buffalo 40-14 and completed just 13 passes. Actually, if you count his three interceptions he completed 16. Throw in his two fumbles and you can see that the guy is not a quality quarterback.
Tebow Nation will respond by pointing you to the games he won but I reply by saying the only way the Broncos won those games was by some sort of dumb luck or divine intervention. You can’t tell me that when a guy completes two of his eight passes for a total of 25 yards that he deserves the credit for the win against KC. Absolutely not. Could I do any better? No, but I’m not pretending to be an NFL quarterback. My guess is now when Timmy “Tebows” he’s praying for a backup job somewhere and not a gig as the third string/guy who shags the loose balls at practice.
Tim Tebow isn’t my problem anymore. Peyton Manning is. As a fan of the silver and black I can only pray that Carson Palmer gets in sync with his receivers and that he has the kind of year he’s capable of having. If not, the Godfather will roll over in his grave as his much-hated Broncos defeat the team he built and then tore down.
I thought John Elway was smoking crack for drafting Tebow as high as he did but I have a renewed respect for the man who said “Tebow will be our starter next year” then sent him packing. Elway is a guy that I respect the hell out of for what he accomplished in his career as a player and now as an executive, but I don’t like him because he beat the snot out of my Raiders time and again as a player and now it seems he’s found a way to do it again as an executive. He’s the kind of guy that you hate with a passion, until he comes to your team.
Why do I say God hates me? Simple. I prayed daily that Manning would sign with anyone other than the Broncos or Niners. My friend, Wes is a huge San Fran fan and I know the kind of taunting I would have received had Manning arrived on the wrong side of the bay. Thankfully I won’t be hearing Wes run his yap about that but I know I’ll get an earful when the Raiders and Broncos hook up.
If I could ask Peyton Manning one thing it would be this. “Why not Tennessee?” It’s a nice state. Elvis lived there. You went to college there. People in that state worship you. You had an owner who wanted you badly and fans that would go crazy for you. Wouldn’t that be the perfect fit for you? If Tennessee is good enough for the King it’s good enough for you.
In Denver you have to play outside in the cold and the snow. In Tennessee its warmer and they make Jack Daniels there. You broke my heart Peyton Manning and for that I pray that my Raiders find a way to shut you down, sack you, intercept you and limit your touchdown productivity. I’m not optimistic that will happen because as I said before, I’m pretty sure God hates me.
                                               

                    If you’ve never seen the Tim Tebow skit on SNL, check it out.

Douche of the Week–Cliff Harris

Way to do your school proud, bro. Go Ducks.

I’m gonna cut straight to the heart of the matter. University of Oregon cornerback Cliff Harris is one ignorant son of a bitch. This Duck is fucked. [Did ya like what I did there? He's a U of O Duck. And he's fucked. For real.]
Basically, these are the three paragraphs that were the difference in picking this week’s winner. Any one of the three makes him a winner, but dude hit the trifecta and he goes straight to the back of the class.
Oregon cornerback Cliff Harris was suspended Monday after he was pulled over for several infractions, including driving on a suspended license and driving without insurance.
Then we find out why he got pulled over.
Eugene police said that Harris was stopped on a city street Monday afternoon after an officer noted he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, for which he was also cited.
Buckle up bro. It’s the law. Rewind a few months.
Harris, an All-American who broke up 23 passes and averaged 18.8 yards per punt return last season, was also ticketed in June by Oregon State Police for driving 118 mph on Interstate 5 on a suspended license.
What a moron, huh? 118 M.P.H. on I-5 on a suspended license, then he does it again. This guy should probably be selective who he breeds with. If Cliff has the game people say he does, then he can hire himself a driver when he gets to the NFL. Until then maybe he can hit up a booster for a chauffeur. Or a bus pass. One things for sure; this dude brings down the team I.Q. Bigtime. Way to do your school proud, bro. Go Ducks.

Update to the State of the State thingie; Or, Rex grossman is a pussy

I walked out of the bar and there is a minivan with a daycare ad and phone number #classy




So, yesterday I probably depressed the shit out of you with the story of what’s going on in my life. I sincerely apologize, but I had to get that out. Kind of like the post-Thanksgiving dump, this was better off out, than inside of me. Try and get that picture out of your head.

The Muse kept on my ass and told me to stop being a depressed mother fucker (paraphrase) and to go out and do something. So, I decided to make a return to one of my fav places to watch a football game, Charlie's Jewel. They’ve got a big ass thermomoter behind the bar showing you the temp of the kegs, and it always fluctuates between 28 and 30. Yeah. Their beer is cold when it comes out. It’s damn tasty. They also have some pretty decent bar food.

I arrived, ordered my patty melt and fries at the kitchen, then sat at the bar where I ordered a (34 oz) Coke Zero. Yeah, it’s wierd, but I have a thing about hanging at Charlie's Jewel and drinking Coke Zero, OK? I sipped my  soda and watched the end of the first half of the Cowboys v Redskins rivalry. As the half ended, I tweeted, “Rex Grossman is a pussy.”

There aren’t many who would argue the validity of that comment, Redskins fans included. (Read on so I can prove my point). The two old-timers sitting next to me at the bar were complaining that the TV was too loud and they couldn’t hear the shitty redneck music they selected on the jukebox. In their defense, I was the one who thought the music was shitty. They thought it was great. At their insistance, the bartender turned down the TV just as Chris Berman was starting the Fastest 3 Minutes segment.

I watched the highlights of Buffalo beating New England and said, “How the fuck does that happen?” Then they showed Detroit beating Minnesota and I said, “Don’t mess with the man named Suh. How’d that feel Donovan?” Next up was my Raiders. “D-Mac in da hizzle,” I shouted to no one in particular. “171 baby. 171.” Finally they showed the Broncos losing to the Titans. I simply laughed out loud and said, “I bet that tasted pretty shitty, huh Elway?” In case you haven’t figured it out, I don’t like the Denver Broncos.

I continued to sit at the bar, eating my dinner and sipping Coke Zero. As halftime came to an end, my cell phone rang and I saw it was Drama Queen. The bar was noisy with crappy country music and I only had two bites of patty melt left and a couple gulps of my Coke Zero, so I ignored the call. I quickly finished both the burger and soda, ordered one more Coke Zero, then went outside to call my daughter back.

We talked for a few minutes and as I was ending the call, some guy in his mid-20′s came stumbling out of the bar and walked right up to me, apparently to lean on me. I side-stepped him and returned to my seat to watch football. About 60 seconds later, Drunkie came stumbling back into the bar and sat next to me. Fuck. I was trying to relax and enjoy myself and I didn’t need some drunk-ass douche ruining it.

The bartender turned around and said, “God damn it. I just told you you’re not allowed in here. Get out before I call the cops.” I looked over and noticed dude had a mostly-empty pint of some kind of schnapps on the bar. “And,” the bartender continued. “You can’t bring in your own alcohol. Get out.” He, of course, ignored her and laid his head down on the bar.

“Seriously,” she yelled. “Get the fuck outta here. The bouncer will be here in less than 10 minutes and he won’t be happy to see you here.” My neighbor (who stood maybe 5′ 5″ and weighed a buck twenty on a good day) slurred, “He can’t do shit to me.” At that point all the patrons sitting around me implored the bartender to leave him alone and let the bouncer take care of things. So she did. And so did he.

About six minutes later, some big ass Samoan walks in the back door. This guy was probably 6′ 4″ and weighed somewhere in the vicinity of 325. There wasn’t a drop of fat on this guy and the first thing I noticed is that he seemed to be missing a neck. He walked behind the bar to clock in and the bartender said, “Look who’s back?”

The Samoan looked down my way and I quickly leaned back on my stool, so he would see my neighbor and not think he had to kick my ass. “He’s waiting for you,” someone at the bar said. “He said you can’t do shit to him.” The bouncer (still behind the bar) walked up to the drunk and said, “You need to get out of here. Now.” The lush mumbled something incoherently and the bouncer said, “I’m going to walk around the bar and if you’re still in here when I get there, I’m throwing you out.”

The next thing I saw was a middle finger rise from the bar (he was still laying with his head down) and the Samoan moved faster than I thought he could. This guy had speed and size. It was impressive. The bouncer picked up the guy by his belt (with one hand) and tossed him out the front door. Then he came back in, picked up the bottle, threw it in the trash, grabbed a glass of water, sat down on a stool and said, “Good game?” At that point, I tweeted again. “I just watched some punk ass drunk get physically tossed from a bar. #cool”

I continued to watch the game and noticed that Dallas’ center seemed to have a problem when Tony Romo was in the shotgun. I don’t know if Romo was off the count or if the center was, but there were several snaps where he either put it past Romo, or snapped it before the QB was ready. This intrigued me, so I once again turned to Twitter.

“I guess Romo’s center prefers when Tony is up close, tickling his balls. Dude can’t snap in the ‘gun”

My friend, Patrick, quickly replied. "Benjamin Perhaps he is a snuggle kind of guy. Has trouble without someone up against him”

The Muse (for some reason a Cowboys fan, ugh) tweeted, Benjamin as far as we know, there’s no Don’t ask, Don’t tell policy in football, right? Maybe Tony should ask questions in the huddle”

I told Patrick Yo I didn’t want to know the answer to that and continued to watch the game. I was feeling more like myself than I have in a while and was enjoying the night. Romo threw a ball to literally no one. I mean there was no one from either team within 10 yards of the ball, so I tweeted again. “Nice throw dumbass. #Romo”

Around this time a guy in a Redskins t-shirt walks up to the bar and orders a couple of schooners. He glanced over at me, said hi and asked how I liked the game. “It’s pretty good,” I said. “Rex Grossman is a pussy.” Dude looked at me and replied, “He’s a fuckin’ bitch.” I like this guy.

I then told the ‘Skins fan, “I’m a Raider fan, so I hate Mike Shanahan.” He looked at me with eyes that said he was 90% hammered and replied, “You don’t have to be a Raider fan to hate that guy.” Then he stumbled off with his two schooners of Tecate.

The game was nearly over, but I was in no mood to stop tweeting. After a few dumbass plays by the Cowboys, I tweeted yet again. “I think Romo was smoking the crack pipe before the game. #NFL #Cowboys”

The game ended with the Cowboys on top, mainly because Grossman choked on the last drive. Are you surprised to read that? Probably not. I finished my soda, said good night, walked to my car and tweeted one final time. “I walked out of the bar and there is a minivan with a daycare ad and phone number. #Classy”







P.S. I know this picture of Rex Grossman is from his days in Chicago, but it was too good to pass up. I typed, “Rex Grossman pussy” into Google images and this is what I came up with. Nice, huh?