Michael Crabtree versus Aqib Talib, Part Deux was better than Floyd Mayweather versus Connor McGregor. When football goes off the chain, this is exactly it.
The NFL taught us maybe a few things this week. First, what’s better than people fighting like cats and dogs? It’s simple really: people fighting like horses and pirates. Who knew there was so much animosity between noble steeds and swashbuckling buccaneers? The more you know thanks to Michael Crabtree and Aqib Talib in the greatest lesson plan that the awful AFC West could ever hope to teach us. It was like freaking Step Brothers fighting, man.
We learned that while Rob Gronkowski likes to party, he’s not allowed to talk about celebrations, especially if he is Brandin Cooks’ mini horse. Cooks can ride that Pony like Ginuwine, but it would have been Bye, Bye Li’l Sebastian for Gronk had he spoke out of turn. Gronk knows Don’t Speak and there will be No Doubt you won’t get in trouble with Darth Sidious.
Even if you’re trying for gold records like you’re Bruce Dickinson or something, the littlest prince of football’s royal family can still ride pine with the best of them because his Chicken Parm did not taste so good. Let’s see if Brad Paisley can be coerced into writing a jingle about this one, Eli.
As one member of football’s royal family has fallen into The Pit of Misery (Dilly!, Dilly!), Philadelphia has a new Fresh Prince in town. No, it’s not unusual that it’s not Carlton’s cousin Big Willie Style, it’s some kid from Fargo named Carson.
Lastly, it takes one first-round bust to know one…and beat one. The Fountain of Youth is Alive in Tuscon!…err…Phoenix! The Blaine Train was up in running in the Valley of the Sun. It Choo! Choo!-ed all over London’s Finest. Sir Blake Bortles was not amused, he was perplexed. Typical. Week 13, a tip of the Bruce Arians’ red beret to you, good sir!
The Chain will keep them together
Listen to the Autumn Wind blow. Watch the sun rise set as you’re just Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay. Michael Crabtree and Aqib Talib were running in the shadows of the Black Hole on Sunday. Talib was all “damn your chain”. Crabtree was all “damn your lies.”
The NFL wanted a nice, civil football game between the Denver Broncos and the Oakland Raiders on Sunday. Instead, it got a better and freer version of Mayweather vs. McGregor, but only in certain media markets because both of these teams are ehh…
So what’s so civil about war anyway? I mean, yeah, Crabtree and Talib have the biggest rivalry since Doback vs. Huff, but The Chain will keep them together one front-yard wresting match at a time. This kind of football thunder only happens when it’s raining. After being separated, it’s safe to say these two enemies went their own way into the bowels of the worst stadium in professional football.
With a week off from football, Crabtree can sail through the changing ocean tide while Talib can ring like the bell through the night. Though their on-field animosity may just be Rumors, we’ll buy every copy it and get ready for the Rocky III version of The Chain War.
Gronk goes Kronk in his new TD groove with Brandin Cooks
You have to like the Patriots’ New Groove? Uh-huh? Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh. After Brandin Cooks found Joe Pay Dirt, he decided to keep on keeping on celebrating that touchdown because life’s a garden, dig it. Thankfully Dennis Miller was not in the booth to confuse us with his verbose vernacular of varying viewpoints.
Cooks was in the kitchen and he found Gronk and turned him into Kronk. No, it didn’t Tick him off. He actually kind of enjoyed walking around with Cooks on his back. Normally, the Patriots are confined to a Joe Swanson-like wheelchair when it comes to being self-expressive.
Sure, Gronk respects authority, as he didn’t want to get in trouble for wanting to talk about what he wasn’t allowed to talk about. What is this? Fight Club? A Center For Ants? Keep in mind this is a guy that was shotgunning brews at the most recent Pats parade and crashing Sean Spicer pressers. Gronk is a respectable man, but not at a Devils game. God, Marty Brodeur was amazing at two things: goaltending and rocking a sweet pair of unnecessary sideburns.
#EliManningFace #SadFace #YouGotBenched
When you’re more dysfunctional than the New York Jets, and you’re not the New York Knicks, the New York Mets, the New York Islanders or the Brooklyn Nets, well, then you must be the New York Giants then. It’s been a bad season since Poodell Barkham Jr. broke his leg. This will be yet another season that Brandon Marshall will be watching the NFL playoffs from his couch.
The New York Football Giants were supposed to go to the Super Bowl because they made the playoffs last year and because they play in New York and that’s what the Tri-State Area demands. Too bad it’s gotten really Sad Eli Manning Face of late. He did a fine job being an overrated, mediocre quarterback for so long. Manning has no been banished to the bench in favor of Geno Smith.
In 200 of those 210 straight regular-season starts, Manning was unathletic and a stoic pick machine the New York media could never break. All it took was a slick former offensive coordinator with slicked back hair to beat the streak. Look forward to Smith throwing for 350 yards on arguably the worst secondary in football in Oakland. Nothing left to say about this than Sad Eli Manning Face.
Carson Wentz is English QB royalty, apparently
When Harry Met Sally or Whatsername, Harry really took care of it. As pets’ heads are falling off with the royal football family in ‘Merica, the lovely Brits got themselves a new princess. Plus, Liz, Chuck and Billy ditched not Harry Potter and brought some good-looking Fargo guy named Carson. Hey, they kind of look alike, don’t they?
The resemblance is there, but he’s not one of the Stussys. Well, okay then. To me, there is nothing more American than to have The Prince of Wales of quarterbacking the Philadelphia Freedom Eagles on Sundays in ‘Murica! You can taste the freedom from here. Woo!
Truth be told, Prince Harry Carson Wentz is more likely to experience a coronation this decade with the Eagles than at Buckingham Palace, even on Casual Friday. We all know that Liz is going to Live Forever because she’s our Wonderwall. Don’t Look Back in Anger, Harry. You are approaching Rocky-level royalty in the City of Brotherly Love. Just avoid making your own pool and you should be good on that front. Who cares what your spaghetti policy is?
7-9 BS: Blaine Gabbert gets his revenge on his former, former employer
I mean, unless you were on the losing side of Georgia/Florida for a few years or you’re not a fan of Lynyrd Skynyrd, you have to be in rare company to hate on Jacksonville. So I did the math and it’s basically two kinds of people: the guys that show run The Good Place and Arizona Cardinals quarterback Blaine Gabbert.
The Blaine Train left the Mizzou station back in 2011. He was merely 21 years old and got messed up in Duval County like many suburban Atlantans do sometime around Halloween annually. Gabbert woke up one day and it was worse. He had to deal with Jim Harbaugh and Trent Baalke and Jed York and Colin Kaepernick and Chip Kelly. Yeah, the Bay Area will chew up a millennial in their mid-20s for sure.
But the Blaine Train kept on going into the Valley of the Sun. With the help of many kind Phoenicians like Bruce Arians and Larry Fitzgerald and the freaking Honey Badger, Gabbert was able to stick-it-to-the-man-eosis to Sir Blake Bortles and London’s Finest in Glendale last Sunday.
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It was one of those moments were 7-9 BS shined through most magnificently. This is the type of game that Jeff Fisher and his emotional support animal would have won. You’d beat a defensive-minded team at home with buffoonery at the quarterback position. The Cardinals needed a L that day to draft Carson Palmer’s replacement. But Gabbert needed a win that day more. The Blaine Train rolls on.