Pey...Ton...Man...Ning

Hello, kids, and thank you for all your letters of support.  It's been a rough few decades for me, and the unicorns, and without your unconditional support I don't think we would have made it through to the other side.  But today, I can say for the first time in a long time, is a great day.

I, being in charge of this dump and all, realize that I haven't branched out since November when a terrorist attack rocked the cradle of everything romantic in civilized culture, and the reason for that is because...well...sometimes bad guys win.

But victories are ever fleeting and the games are always starting anew and I just got some really cool knee pads and I'm willing to tap in for a little bit more.

Plus, I'd be absolutely beside myself if I didn't jump on the gigantic celebration that's taking place right now in Denver for the retirement party of Peyton Manning.  The entire world is coming together to reflect, reminisce, and re-purpose my lunch over the epic, position re-defining, and potential global warming causing, career of Pey...Ton...Man...Ning.  I wrote it like that because that's how he says his name. 

I always have these grandeur visions of the end of my enemies and how I'll be standing there, victoriously over them, laughing hysterically, and covered in blood and various animal furs.  It's never my first instinct to envision the bullshit propaganda-led media tour of Mount Olympus.  I'm no expert in Greek mythology but I'm no slouch either so correct me if I'm wrong...exactly when did Zeus teabag Hera?

Look, I'm almost positive that Peyton dropped his nut-sack on a female trainer's face in a completely accidental nature because nobody ever specifically pointed out to him that you shouldn't do such a thing.  You have to be very specific when talking to Peyton.  Run the flat route, Peyton.  Do this commercial, Peyton.  Don't eat the paste, Peyton.  Don't drop your balls on people, Peyton.

I almost side with Peyton because I didn't know that Tennessee law was so progressive on sexual assault charges.  I guess I kind of assumed there was one judge in the entire state and he just sat on a bale of hay and made loud decrees of who played the jug the best.  I'm obviously joking.  I have been to Tennessee and the time I've spent there was nothing but a joyous occasion.  I definitely did not spend my entire stay there counting down to the time I left Tennessee.  That did not happen.  Definitely.

What's to come of these allegations?  Absolutely nothing.  This happened back in the late 90's which might as well be the Bronze Age because we're old now in case you didn't get the Bronze Age joke.  Peyton wins the Super Bowl on marionette strings held by Wade Phillips and the rest of his gang of wily, HGH-using defensive players and the most deserving of the bunch gets the MVP.  Von Miller uses player-enhancing drugs, was suspended for it, then gets crowned the most important player in the most important game the sport has, gives awards away at the Grammys, and then goes on Dancing With The Stars.  What.  The.  Fuck.

Kids!  Do you like to try hard and earn your goals the right way?  Well, sucks to be you!  The new American standard, where our idols truly lie, is that it's really important what your end result is.  Forget about all that bullshit beforehand...we want trophies, dammit!  Learn this line and remember it well, "Well they were doing it too!"  It's iron-clad and it's a ticket to fame on ABC.

I don't fault Peyton Manning for the malefaction of his teammates.  That's only something that the leader of the team would fall on the sword for.  Denouncing PED's and the amount that it has infiltrated your own clubhouse and how it has attributed to your late success is not going to be on the speech given at the retirement press conference.  No, in fact, the great Peyton will stand there in Denver and give the best cookie cutter speech in white American sports legend history. 

I just had that thing happen to me where I used the word 'Peyton' so many times that it has lost all meaning to me.  What's that called?  Oh that's right, I'm smart, it's called semantic saturation.  He's going to stop playing football right now but that's just the gateway drug into something more terrible. 

Speaking of saturation, when I started this blog I did it because I had a love for sports and the inspiring stories they told.  Years later, I'm not so much sure as I don't love it anymore but if in fact I actually hate it.

If you turn on the television today it will be one last moment in the sun for Peyton Manning, born of NFL pedigree, former number one pick in the draft, two time Super Bowl winner, and holder of all the major and most minor passing records for a quarterback.  This won't be so bad.  He'll thank a lot of people, he'll cry a little, he'll attempt to say something inspiring and some idiots will buy stock, but at the end of the day we'll sweep up confetti. 

This is the end of Peyton Manning as it was the end of Anakin Skywalker when Obi-Wan left him burning and amputated next to the lava pool.  I'm not as naive as Obi-Wan.

The last month was a coronation for Peyton and the next six will be his celebration...and then?
Well, I guess that's up to Ol' Top Heavy himself, but I guarantee that the commissioner views today as "good publicity" and I just sit here in my bunker and gently rock myself back and forth.

Float on, graceful swans, as long as you freakin' can.

Passions and Punishments

I've been giving a lot of thought lately, given that this year I'll be rounding out the first 30 of my life, to what it is I'm really doing here.

I mean commanding a stud farm for unicorns while I jot down my thoughts isn't exactly the answer I gave to my teacher in fifth grade when she asked me what I wanted to do with my life.  In fact I think I told her I wanted to design the new White House, which is a weird thing too because if you think about it most people would have just said architect.  Apparently I was only invested in that one project.  The even weirder part is that since that time I have never had any desire whatsoever to become an architect.  The designing of buildings fit for human in-habitation is not something that should be put into my hands.  Except maybe tee-pees.  I could probably build a tee-pee.

I have passion for running the stud farm, I really do.  But there's a roadblock and I can't for the life of me figure out what that is.  I'm a lot like Derrick Rose I think, except he's black and incredibly gifted in the art of basketball.  Hear me out: Derrick has tremendous passion for basketball but it keeps betraying him and his body and he keeps sustaining horrific injuries.  I think that's incredibly unfair but I also understand that, 'hey that's life', and I hope he does too but I'm sure he sits at home late at night wondering what the Hell he's supposed to do.  What if he had passion for basketball and it didn't work out for one way or the other and he decided the best way to care for his family was to make pizzas?  Would he live a life content or would he just spend the rest of his days wondering what the Hell he's supposed to do?

Then I think to myself, "No, you have to run this stud farm.  Nobody else knows where the rakes get put back or where we keep the fresh hay and et cetera, et cetera, et cetera...  That's latin, doll.  Is that selfish or foolish?  I can't decide.  I guess I'm a lot like Kobe Bryant I think, except he's black and incredibly gifted in the art of basketball.  Hear me out:  Kobe has been to the mountaintop--several times.  To put it lightly he makes you question who the best Laker of all-time was.  His last few years haven't been very kind to him as his body is breaking down after all this time of wear and tear and he should probably be done but his mind won't let him.  He's going to come back for more punishment because 'he just can't go out this way.'  This happens from time to time to all great champions.  Your entire career has been a fairy tale so how could there not be a happy ending?  Do you think Kobe sits at home at night and asks himself what the Hell he's supposed to do?  If he hung it up right now and got some cushy TV analyst job do you think he would live a life content or would he just spend the rest of his days wondering what the Hell he's supposed to do?

If the Studly Pastures ended tomorrow I think my overall demeanor would be that I was generally pleased but felt like we could have done so much more.  And, hey, I've already told you that the two parameters for the ending of the SP are either the Miami Dolphins winning the Super Bowl or my untimely demise--whichever occurs first.  But the Zombie Apocalypse could happen and I'm pretty sure the internet would shut down and that would end the SP and if that happened, like I said, I would have mixed feelings...and hopefully a shotgun.  I guess I'm a lot like Peyton Manning, except he's under the Mendoza Line for Intelligence Quotient and extremely gifted at the art of football.  Peyton has no reason to come back next year--absolutely none--and it looks like he's coming back.  He's old, he's worn down, and his neck is fused together with technology they talked about in the original Terminator.  He's completely insane but he knows no other way.  Peyton Manning sits at home and says, 'Neck or football?  Ehhh...football."  Because what the Hell else would he do?!

I wonder, way back in the fifth grade that day, if I told the teacher I wanted to design the new White House because I panicked under the weight of the question.  Who the Hell at ten years old knows what they want to devote the rest of their life to?  The ironic part is that it's probably athletes and it's ironic because they never last.  They know from Day One what they want to be and they're the first ones to not be able to do that anymore or surrender their necks.

As for me, I like my neck.  I think it's pretty clear what my calling is.  It's still not too late to have Jimmy Carter teach me to build houses.

Float on, graceful swans.

Coach Carousel

This marks another new landmark for the Studly Pastures as we've managed to go a full calendar month without anybody overseas reading a post.

While I'd like to think that maybe the East has finally taken what they've needed from me and are now better for it the more likely reason is that those spam bots have left me alone due to inactivity.  Eh.  The herald of the times can only do so much and he's probably not going about it by writing in an obscure blog every here and there.

I believe in self-employment.  You're the boss and what you say goes.  It's also got great job security because the only way you lose your job is when the whole company goes under and--come on--how often does that happen?

That's probably why I'm not an NFL head coach.  While it might seem like you hold some semblance of power you're really just the guy whose got the puppeteer's hand up his ass the furthest.  And when he tires of you he throws you out and gets another puppet.  Your life is basically Toy Story, except like I said, his hand is up your ass.  The life of a NFL head coach is cruel, wearing, and you better know it before you get into it or else it will swallow you up.  Unless you employ tactics, oh let's say such as spying on the other teams, your shelf-life as a NFL head coach is a little longer than that lactose-free milk which just confuses me to no end.  What's in the container?  Sand?

There's been a number of coaching changes as of late and most of them have left me wondering what the person making the hire is doing to convince themselves of such a move.  Why did this person out of ALLLLLLL others stand out to you as the one that would lead you to the promised land?  Why?!



BUFFALO: I start with you because, let's face it, we know each other the best.  You're the barren wasteland of my birth--the place that God constantly tries to warn humanity not to form a habitat in by burying it for months at a time under pounds and pounds of ice!  Yet, there you stand, as some weird testament to human resiliency or just pure ignorance.  Nevertheless, your old coach abandoned you (and granted he has a history of doing that) but you couldn't really blame him because maybe he wanted to remember what the sun looked like.  It appears now that Doug Marrone would rather not be a head coach in the NFL so that he didn't have to live in Buffalo any longer.  That's a tough pill to swallow and you washed it down with a big, heaping glass of Rex Ryan.

I know you're not the Grand Vizier of Great Decision Making but...come on...Rex Ryan?!  I wouldn't even want that guy to show up to the same bar I'm at--let alone coach my football team.  Has it come down to this, Buffalo?  You're now just willingly raising your hand for Jersey's seconds?

Rex Ryan is a defensive minded coach, something they have the footholds established for in Buffalo but their offense is a huge train-wreck.  Enter Rex Ryan, one-track mind, one-track coach, one lap-band surgery.  Buffalo has basically signed up to become Jersey 2.0.  I expected better from Canadians.



OAKLAND: I must say I like the moves that the Oakland Raiders make because as a sibling I can basically smoke crack and still be a more favored offspring.  They just don't get it, do they?  It's either they all collectively don't get it or Al Davis died so he could become more powerful than we could ever imagine.  To go through their timeline of events in just the last six months would require about five Studly's so we're just going to skip ahead and tell you that they've tapped Jack Del Rio as the 479th head coach of the Oakland Raiders.

I don't like Jack Del Rio because he thinks he looks good in leather jackets and that kind of pompous attitude makes me hate you.  He previously coached the Jaguars for far too long because they're trying to sabotage themselves but for the last couple of years he was Defensive Coordinator for the Denver Peyton Mannings.  There was much ballyhoo last offseason for the attention the Broncos were paying to the defensive side of the ball with acquisitions like Demarcus Ware and Aqib Talib.  And then Andrew Luck came along, marched right into Mile High, and now Peyton has plenty of time to peddle pizzas. (Boom).  Oakland, being in the same division as Denver, has kept close tabs on the Broncos for the last couple of years and has decided to hire the man in charge of the weakest link on the team.  The chain of failure isn't a straight line, dumbasses, it's a circle.

I like Jack Del Rio for a character name on Law and Order but as far as a head coach I'm going to have to question why the Davis family has so much money to burn for such trivial reasons such as hiring and firing a guy two years later.



NEW JERSEY: You know why I saved you for last.  The Twilight Zone is very cruel and unforgiving.  Back in the Suck for Luck year in 2011 when the Dolphins fired Tony Sparano in December, Todd Bowles became our interim head coach.  The Dolphins subsequently went 2-1 under his stead and far missed out on a lottery we were in prime position to get from the start of the season--Andrew Luck.  The Colts sucked a little bit more that year and now they're in the AFC Championship.  I knew that we weren't getting Andrew Luck that year but at least there was potential in Todd Bowles.  He had coached with us for several years prior, the team loved him and responded to him, and he seemed like a bright young mind.  Then Stephen Ross went and hired Joe Philbin as head coach and there was no place for Todd Bowles anymore and I slunk even further into the Twilight Zone.

Now Rex Ryan is in Buffalo, Todd Bowles is in New Jersey, Andrew Luck is in Indianapolis and I'm stuck with Joe "I need to do a better job coaching" Philbin and Ryan "Fuzzby" Tannehill.

The gang's all here.

As much as I bashed Buffalo for hiring a guy that was defensive-minded on an already defensive heavy team I simply can't do the same for the New Jersey Jets.  Yes, Todd Bowles is a defensive-minded coach--but if anybody can juggle with one hand while learning the other I gotta go with him.  Buffalo hired a sideshow, Jersey hired a prodigy.

I'm just glad he went to Jersey because not even they can take advantage of his raw power.

You better be floatin' on, graceful swans.

The Last Stand of Peyton Manning

Faceless entities!  Now is the time to repent for our misgivings and bad tidings.  I'll start the bidding war with my opinion on reality shows and that is that I don't much care for them...any of them.  It's all a crock of shit that makes Webster redefine the word 'reality'.  If it's scripted, or there's parameters, or amateur actors...then it's not reality.  Reality happens in a flash--in an instant.  Scraps of reality can be captured or recreated to invoke human reaction but the fact remains is that reality is a fleeting subject that is both rare and often fabricated.

How about that?  We're living in a world where reality isn't real anymore.  Happy birthday to anybody born today.

Well kiddos, it's now March which means it's time to talk about professional football because free agency has opened and Denver is acting like a disgruntled girlfriend.  It turns out that Denver didn't really handle that crushing loss in the Super Bowl very well and they're lashing out by buying everybody they can.  They signed Aqib Talib to a 57 meulllioooonnnn dollar contract and former Cowboy DeMarcus Ware to a 30 meulllioooonnnn dollar contract to 'bolster their defense'.

Good for them.

On the surface it looks like John Elway woke up and realized that Peyton Manning was a ticking time bomb and that if you were the last one holding him...well then...kaboom.  Elway had the luxury of retiring after winning two Super Bowls in a row and I'm sure he wants Peyton to go out on top.  The unfortunate circumstance of the whole thing (and one would even go as far to call it ironic) is that it's obvious you can be the greatest quarterback of your generation but not reach the pinnacle until the pieces around you fall into place.

Elway was blessed.  He got Terrell Davis.  I know two things about Terrell Davis.  He wore braces in the NFL and he was the Second Coming in running back form.  I'm not going to bother to look up his stats or how long he played in the NFL because I'd like to be ignorant and just assume he played two years and dominated both of them and that was that.  But I'm not that naive.  He actually played six years and is the Denver Broncos leading rusher of all-time, which is more telling than anything else.  He played SIX years.

I know Peyton Manning has won a Super Bowl already but in today's NFL he is mostly compared to some guy named Tom Brady that is considered his contemporary and has won multiple Super Bowls but also has children with different mothers.  Tom Brady has three rings: Jim Kelly, Dan Marino, Fran Tarkenton, Boomer Esiason, Warren Moon, and Dan Fouts have a collective ZERO rings.  Where's your messiah now?

Apparently there's no price tag on another ring for Peyton Manning.  The thing that comes out though about every number and every dollar is very telling...this is the last stand of Ol' Top Heavy.

If Peyton doesn't win the big salami in 2014/2015 he'll retire and his forehead will finally be used as the world's biggest projector screen.  Vonnegut would say, "So it goes," but I have a few more choice words than that.  The final stand of Peyton Manning is also the mortgage of an entire NFL franchise.  The amount of money that the Denver Broncos are doling out is going to catch up with them and soon some other names are going to be departing.  That adds up to pressure and even more weight on the shoulders on our dear sweet Peyton.  You don't have to be a scholar of the sport to recognize how Peyton performs under pressure.  In layman terms, "notsa so good."

Peyton does have one thing working for him, however, and that's this is the Twilight Zone after all.  The ridiculous moves that the Broncos are making will pan out and Peyton will get his second and final ring and ride off into the sunset on a very unfortunate horse that doesn't understand weight distribution.  Don't worry, faceless entities, I'll stand here in loyal defiance and object to everything Peyton related.

This is still a sport, even in the Twilight Zone, and not even the Yankees can buy happiness.  Well...sustained happiness for the most part.

In reality, I'd like to think that Peyton is humbled in the same fashion that all the non-Super Bowl winning quarterbacks I mentioned are.  They wanted one, just one, and were denied.  Peyton wants a second one.

Screw him.

Rocky Mountain Low Is Too Cliche

Well, well, well...here we are.  It's the day after the Super Bowl and I've come a-collectin'.

I'd like to say that I've correctly predicted the Super Bowl winner the last two years but last year all I kinda said was that the Baltimore Ravens would make the game and for some reason never really came to any sort of end with that.  Eh.  Half a point?

But I definitely said that the Seattle Seahawks would win it all this year and wouldn't you know it...they did!

Sure I said that they would be playing the Houston Texans but that just goes to show you how much of a crap-shoot this thing really is...you could peg anybody in there really.  What's that?  A lot of you thought that the Denver Broncos would make it to the Super Bowl too?  Well fine!  I'll just go stand in the Stupid Corner with everybody else that makes ridiculous statements as if they're premonitions that don't come true to allow enough space for the rest of the world that loves to decree themselves Nostradamus incarnate!

Actually I won't.

I am just like the rest of you (not really, because I really do study the history of the game, but for all intensive purposes I am just a man who can't predict the future) and maybe it was my blind hatred for Peyton Manning but I knew deep down in the very hearth of my gourd (that's a saying) that Lil' Top Heavy never stood a chance in this game.  But it wasn't even just him it was the rest of his horse-loving, Coors Lite drinking, mountain skiing yahoo gang as well.  They were screwed the minute Richard Sherman managed to deflect everyone's attention away from the fact that Colin Kaepernick is a terrible quarterback.

I'm not even going to invoke the Weather Defense either.  Look, the NFL lucked out completely in the fact that it was a clear-sky balmy 50 degrees for the game because Roger Goodell is the arch-villain from Die Another Day.  I'm still against cold-weather Super Bowls because the Devil always collects his due and I don't want the best thing ever to become a farce of itself because of a blizzard.  I'm getting ahead of myself here though because the thing that I've always known, and assumed that others knew but was proven wrong this past week, was that blizzards don't just affect Peyton Manning...they tend to get to the other players on the field too.

Peyton Manning can't play in cold weather.  What?  Why?  Is he out there in board shorts and a mesh tank-top?  Is he the Heat Miser?  (Which now I'm mad at myself for never, ever referring to Peyton Manning as the Heat Miser because Eli makes the peeeeerfect Snow Miser)

Just stop!  Weather doesn't affect ONE person or ONE team and this is coming from a life-long Miami Dolphins fan.  The Miami Dolphins still to this day think that they have some sort of home-field advantage in August and September because it's way too friggin' hot for somebody not from here to perform well.  We've gone forty years without a championship, folks, and it's looking more and more each day like we can't blame the damn weather anymore.

The collective body of sports enthusiasts seems to suffer some sort of temporary Alzheimer's whenever we are treated to a great offensive team.  "Wow, look at all those points!"  "Wow, they can score on anybody!"  "THIS IS THE BEST TEAM EVER!!!!!"

I must be the only one living in the Twilight Zone that knows that I'm actually living in the Twilight Zone because I've heard all of this before.  I heard it in 2002 for the Oakland Raiders, again in 2007 for the New England Patriots, and once again this year for the Denver Broncos.  The thing that all three have in common?  They lost the Super Bowl to a really, really great defense because that's what the best offense in the league does...they lose to the best defense.

I wasn't planning on Seattle playing Denver in the big game because I thought Denver would have Denver'ed out in one of the earlier rounds of the playoffs.  I thought at the time that Houston would have been a more intriguing team for Seattle to face in the Super Bowl because I thought Houston had a comparable defense--at least in the front seven...okay...maybe front four!  I also failed to realize that Houston had the emotional stability of a 16-year old girl on Junior Prom Night.  That's right...Junior Prom Night.

Seattle's defense this year was absolutely amazing.  They didn't just stop other offenses...they smothered them.  Offense in the NFL is all about timing and rhythm and the mark of a great defense is being able to disrupt that timing even if just for a second longer.  Things like being able to get to the quarterback quickly and knocking wide receivers off their routes are tools that tend to get this job done and Seattle utilized both of those things last night.

The Seattle win was inevitable and the blow-out was just the cherry on top.  Do I revel in the fact that most of the world is targeting Peyton Manning for this loss?  Yes, of course I do!  What kind of question is that?  I loathe Peyton Manning and his suffering is my life force.  I just gained ten more years!  To pin the loss on Peyton is moronic, like I've mentioned in this post, but I'm going to allow it.

So, thank you, Seattle.  Enjoy the title and I hope it's not as fleeting as I hear it is.  I only mention that because, you know...the whole forty years thing and if I was writing this in my forties I would have to really sit back and reflect on some of the choices I've made and how the Hell I've gotten here...I'm going to eat these words in twelve years, aren't I?

All that's left for Peyton is to retire and pitch a sit-com to CBS where he and Dan Marino have to move in together after their respective football careers are over and open up a pizza joint together.  Peyton, of course, will play the smart guy and Dan will just be the guy who gets all the chicks.  Then the cycle will have completed itself and hopefully by then I'll be dead.

Float on, graceful swans.

Champions? Pssh...

We're back in action, so soon after a posting because I couldn't help but think "Jesus, what the Hell are we doing?"  How are we barreling towards Year Five and we've almost reached the hundredth post of the Studly Pastures.  Which, by the way, keep your kids at home that night because we're going to have ourselves a disgusting/leave your inhibitions at the door, type of party that night.  Just sayin'.

I'd hang my head in shame if I knew how to properly describe that through text to faceless entities.

I mean what kind of churn out is that?  A post every 60 days?*

*That statistic was based off of the fact that I don't do statistics.  This isn't the Wall Street Journal where we track those brain-hurtin' types of things.  I consider my day successful if I can fry my egg properly at breakfast.  This is more like Fox News where the louder I scream the harder I get.

I'm still sitting here surprised that I got 'hundredth' right on the first go-around.  Just kidding, I speak pretty all day.

Kids, we live in a world where I was finally proven wrong.  I used to think that Vegas controlled Sports.  I capitalized Sports because I am including everything that may be considered a sport, so sit this one out: cheerleaders, interpretive dancers, chess enthusiasts, ribbon dancers, power walkers, competitive eaters, fat people that think it's the same as being a sumo wrestler, and hot yoga only because it violates the Geneva Convention.

I learned today that Sports is controlled by Big Television.  The final NFL teams that are matched up in the conference championship games that will determine who goes to the Super Bowl are: San Francisco vs. Seattle and New England vs. Denver.

Are you absolutely kidding me?  I like to sleep in to avoid this kind of daytime television drama.  RATINGS, BABY!!!?!!!!

These are the story-lines that were 'destined' from the start, right?

"Two division rivals face each other a third time in a do or die situation to make it to the Super Bowl!" -  every journalist on the West Coast right now.  I might have gotten the exclamation points wrong because there's probably more.

And don't even get me started with the AFC...Brady vs. Manning?  Brady vs. Manning?!  And it's the good Manning?!  Oh lord, why must you tempt me with such frivolities?  I'd like to consider the rivalry between Brady and Manning a lot like the relationship of Clint Eastwood and the Vietnamese boy in "Gran Torino."

Manning dies and leaves everything meaningful to Brady who just shits all over it by letting a dog sit in the front seat who also just shits all over it.  END SCENE.

Of course this game is the bane of my existence but the general public is a bunch of fodder-sucking, brainless shells that are told to go absolutely ape-shit over this match-up.  And so they shall, and many a vomit-stifling shall be had that day by yours truly.

Best case scenario for me?  Denver defeats New England and we're treated to another post-game interview with Manning with that red mark on his forehead because it's too big for his helmet...and another post-game interview of Brady blaming himself but secretly hating everybody on his team but the secret isn't so secret once you see his face because he's a terrible actor.

And then Seattle defeats Denver in whatever Roman Numeral Super Bowl this year is because Peyton deserves to be the new Dan Marino.  Congratulations, you have records that are impressive now but this is a progressive game...who's to say that anything you've done will be meaningful/remembered give or take thirty years?  You have a title, I'll give you that Manning, but people talk about Marino now as if he was the martyr of good but never great.

I bestow that crown on you, Peyton Manning, current holder of all that is holy except for anything that really counts and I challenge you to prove me wrong!

And usually when I do that on this blog I am caught with my pants down and stammering over my own words.  Peyton is, after all, my arch-nemesis.  I guess I'm just the same as the rest of you and we'll see what Big Television demands...

The Peyton Potential

I have a dirty little secret to confess.

I hate Peyton Manning.

I'm not talking like in a school-girl, I hate him because I hate to love him kind of way. I HAAAAAAATE him.

It dates back to before the Houston Texans were a football team causing realignment in the AFC divisions. Peyton's Colts were in the same division as Miami. Guess how many times the greasy weasel would come back at the last second to drive a stake through my heart? Countless.

Then came the days of Fantasy Football. Peyton eviscerated my teams. So I thought I could outsmart him by drafting him on my team. My can't beat 'em, join 'em schtick lasted long enough for Peyton to drop an egg in the playoffs resulting in my immediate elimination.

I truly believe that some cosmic forces somewhere clashed together and created two entities that would forever be mortal villains of each other that manifested themselves in a football player and some random guy in Florida.

Every move he makes is a slap in my face. His very existence taunts me. When I do an impression of Peyton Manning I draw my inspiration from "What if Forrest Gump was a Colt's fan?" Then it just sort of funnels out of control. "'Ello, my name Pey-ton Man-ning. I play quartaback inna N-F-L. I just loooove Oreos. My brother Eli, he a quartaback too."

Now he's 35, has just missed a full NFL season, and is still recovering from neck surgery. My conventional wisdom has told me that the Peyton is no more. He's done. Rejoice, brothers and sisters!

Naturally the universe would have none of this. The Colts had the worst season this year, locked in the number one draft pick, locked in Andrew Luck, and made Peyton Manning expendable.

Crap.

We are currently two months away from when Manning is due a huge roster bonus that the Colts surely won't pay when they are going to have to pay Andrew Luck a lot of money too. Let's not forget that the organization has recently cleaned out the front office. Manning has no friends left. The owner and him are having media fights that lead people to assume that Peyton's days in blue and white are numbered.

Crap.

The Miami Dolphins have needed a quarterback since Dan Marino retired in 2000. The Dolphins' track record in the search for the next quarterback has ranged from draft busts, to unproven free-agents, and the ever-so-popular aged veterans past their prime with an injury history.

Crap.

That's right, kids. The rumors are swirling that Peyton Manning will be the next starting quarterback of the Miami Dolphins.

Well isn't that just the tits. I'm not one to stomp up and down and scream, "It isn't fair, it isn't fair!" but come on...it's not fair.

Look, personal hatred aside, when the man was healthy he was the best quarterback ever. You were never surely going to lose as long as Peyton Manning was your quarterback. But he's not healthy anymore...and he's old! He's an awkward tackle away from not being able to move his head anymore.

Peyton Manning is a huge competitor and he's not going to accept the sad fact that he's done. I can't really blame him. After a lengthy career where he never missed a start, it's over just like that? Yes, it is. But I'm not naive and I know he's going to play somewhere next year. And it's going to be sad. Things like this shouldn't end like this.

Just don't let it happen in Miami. I can't take hating somebody while feeling sorry for them at the same time AND watch my team suck. That's a three-headed monster and there just isn't enough whiskey in the world.