Friday, April 15, 2011
I know, I know, we're supposed to be covering sports NEWS and not OLDS. And this is maybe a week or more old. But damn. I've got say some things about this. Otherwise, I'm going to start pooping out of my weiner with an overwrought sense of denial.
So here goes...
Oh no! I had to WAIT PATIENTLY before an NFL team had the audacity to pick me! WHAT TREMENDOUS TRAGEDY. But they told him second or third round! LOS BASTARDOS! He had to walk by himself with a baseball bat, and then be walked like a golden retriever around the block by his parents. What heartache. What turmoil. What anstiness.
Not that I don't understand. I've waited on fairly important things before in my life, none of which are as big time as playing in the NFL, and I've been less than patient. It's no man's bag.
But a little perspective would be nice. "Wow, I've had a fairly successful career since getting drafted a little later than I and most every other person drafted would have liked to have been." You know what that is? UNDERFUGGINSTATMENT. Brady's gone on to have one of the best careers of anybody ever. Who cares is a bunch of other teams you've railed COUNTLESS TIMES in your career passed on you? PISS ON THEM WITH YOUR SMOKING HOT WIFE AND SUPER BOWL ACCOLADES IN OPPOSITE HANDS. When I first saw he cried, I thought it would be about the happiness that came from getting picked. NAY. It was "Oh, no, I had to wait a day to get picked. A whole day! I know, I was so P.O.ed too..." Please.
Also, nice jab at the noble and venerable profession of insurance sales. I'm glad that you can afford to purchase your various belongings, STRAIGHT CASH, and have them wrecked or stolen with little to no effect on your vast wealth. Other people need insurance, and need good, solid, hardworking, and trustworthy Americans to sell it to them. Plus, for all of the tears you just shed at the possibility of NOT getting drafted, you'd think you might have the presence of mind to be like "You know, that was ALMOST me, maybe not kick insurance salesmen with my cleat."
Screw this guy, his sassy hair, and his veneers. THEMS FAKE YO.
If you want to make it up to me, let me see your wife without you.
Posted by Zack Stovall at 3:34 PM