If you find yourself confronted with an NFL postseason without a rooting interest and unmoved by Don Cheadle soliloquies, you must draw from the well of that most powerful of human emotions. Ok, well, lust probably won’t do here. But the second most powerful, hate, will serve as a fine proxy. This is one in a series of posts filled with bile, spleen, vitriol and all-around nastiness toward all the teams involved with the sordid roundelay we know as the NFL Playoffs.
Kevin Greene: What is this? TELL ME, YOU SONS A BITCHES! What have I been stressing to you all season? Do you think I like to be ignored? To have my fucking words bounce off your cranial walls only to issue out your asshole undigested on my living room carpet? If I want to be ignored, I’ll go home and tell my wife to stop spending all my playing money on stupid fucking designer hand bags for her designer coke habit. BUT EVEN THOUGH I FUCK YOU IN THE ASS, YOU ARE NOT MY WIFE! I WAS IN THE WCW MOTHERFUCKER! I DEMAND RESPECT!
A.J. Hawk: You gotta let up on us. You demand too much. This is already shoulder length.
Clay Matthews: Yeah, my shit damn near goes down to my chest. RAWK!
Greene: Shoulder length? FUCK YOU AND YOUR STRINGY RAT SHIT! And Matthews, you can grow that dirty blond shit down to your toes and I’ll never give it the time of day. It’s like you never seen cracked open the bottle of peroxide I gave you. If I say so, I want you to be drinking that shit until Taylor Swift comes out in your piss.
Hawk: I still don’t get what this has to do with defense.
Matthews: Yeah, why the fuck do you care about our hair? I almost made the Pro Bowl!
Greene: IT HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH DEFENSE AND IT’S EXACTLY WHY YOU DIDN’T MAKE THE PRO BOWL!
[Coaching carousel flies open]
Dom Capers: Pin those ears back, assholes. I was brought in here to run the 3-4! Do you know how to run a professional 3-4 system? Didn’t think so. You don’t know shit.
This man was a perfect outside rush backer in the 3-4. If anyone knows how it’s done, it’s him. You treat his word as gospel. What you think you know about football exists in a 4-3 world. We do things different.
Greene: You maggot pukes wanna really see something? Look at this:
[Yanks photo out of wallet]
Greene: You see these flaxen locks? They were golden like the sun. And I was the best at what I did. Any coincidence? I think fucking not. Maybe you can be a white linebacker in a 4-3 system with short hair. I don’t know. Frankly, I don’t fucking want to know. The idea scares the shit out of me. I already got enough things that scare the shit out me. That’s a problem with getting old. You’ll find that out someday.
Capers: It’s true. I haven’t slept in weeks. My mind is a terrifying place.
Greene: You see what I mean? That’s what you have to look forward to. That’s why you have to make the most of today.
Matthews: How about Atari Bigby’s long hair? It’s brown as shit.
Greene: I could give a fuck about Neo Geo’s sloppy black dreds. I’M NOT HERE TO COACH UP SAFETIES! THIS IS A THREE FUCKING FOUR SYSTEM! YOU NEED BETTER AND BLONDER HAIR!
I AM NOT LEAVING UNTIL YOU SHORT CUT BULL DYKES GIVE ME TWO INCHES OF BLOND HAIR RIGHT NOW! GROW IT, GIRLS! DO IT!
[Hawk and Matthew exchange frightened looks and stand straight with forced looks of concentration]
Hawk: Uh, is it working?
Greene: IT’S NOT WORKING!
Matthews: How about me?
Greene: NO! YOU MAKE ME FUCKING SICK! GIMME THAT HAIR! I WANT MY HAIR!
Capers: This is outstanding. I might actually sleep tonight.
Greene: Not me. Oh no. Not me.