Friday, September 3, 2010

Tis the Season

So last year, the Saints of New Orleans completed what might be one of the greatest comebacks for a franchise in the history of sports.  A city, ravaged by natural disaster.  A people, many of whom just years earlier, lost their homes and all of their possessions, only to return to the scene of their despair, the home that they couldn't live without, full of pride.

Up stepped a hero, one Andrew Christopher 'Drew' Brees, to take the city on a season-long ride that ended with the MVP hoisting the Lombardi Trophy in honor of the resilient city and it's fans.  A feel-good story for the ages, right?

I will answer my own question with three simple words:


God, that game still makes me cringe like Mel Gibson's Baby Momma hitting the 'Check Messages' button on her answering machine.  That, dear readers, is how my football season ended last year.  My team, the Indianapolis Colts, losing the Superbowl because my Lord and Savior, Peyton Manning, let one get away.

Left a bitter taste in my mouth, not gonna lie.  Kind of like those so-called 'lollipops' that the dentist gave you for being a good boy in the chair.  Wanna know a secret about those suckers?  Made out of Robitussin.  I heard that somewhere.

But this is the madness that is instilled in men come September of every year.  It's fuckin' football season, baby!  It is a time of year that exists for one reason, and one reason only.  To turn grown men into fucking children for 22 weeks.  Honestly, if we put 1/100th of the passion that we put into our Fantasy Football leagues into...I don't know - our jobs, voting, community service - we would live in a Utopian society.

How far does my madness reach?  I am angry at the fucking city of New Orleans.  Don't yell, "Too soon!" to me.  Common sense and rationale thought have no place in grand temple that is the National Football League.  I am so happy that Drew Brees is on the cover of Madden '10.  COME ON MADDEN CURSE!  Don't get me wrong, I like the guy, he's a class act, loves his family, and is a pillar of his community.  He is an inspiration to a lot of people, and is the kind of sportsman that a man who has any pride in the game of football should respect, admire, and try and emulate.

And I hope he breaks his goddamn leg in Week Two.  Welcome to Football Season, people.  The gloves are off.

1 comment:

Vodka and Ground Beef said...

"I am angry at the fucking city of New Orleans. Don't yell, "Too soon!" to me."


Did Brees ever get that giant milk dud off his face? I couldn't tell.

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