When we last left juicy nugget Peter King, he was positively gushing about Aaron Rodgers’ performance in the preseason. I mean, he didn’t actually WATCH Rodgers play. But still! Really impressive to not see him play so well. Elsewhere, Peter admired those who do meditation (it’s like mentally traveling to Montclair!), declared Albany a good spot, lamented that the Shock Top generation is giving way to the Coors Light generation, and visited any number of Americana places.
So what about this week? Who will be gashing whom? What trenchant observations did Peter learn about Tim Tebow from watching two minutes of highlights? DID YOU KNOW QUARTERBACKS WHO ARE COACH’S CHILDREN ARE 35% MORE LIKELY TO BE CRAZY SMART PLAYERS? And will Doug’s Fish Fry christen King “Bottomless Pete: Nature’s Cruelest Mistake”? READ ON.
(Brad) Childress is fine with being the punching bag for going waaaaaay over the top to get Favre back. Because, as he said last night from the Vikings’ locker room in San Francisco: “There are no sacrosanct rules in this business. You do what you have to do to win, and I’ve got no problem with that. You can’t get a hit if you don’t swing the bat.”
This is true. Which makes it all the more curious why Childress would SETTLE FOR A FUCKING LONG RANGE FIELD GOAL AT THE END OF THE NFC TITLE GAME WHEN HIS OFFENSE WAS MOVING THE BALL CRISPLY AND EFFECTIVELY.
There’s one problem with the prevailing theory that Favre was coming back, no matter what…
Few people understand the sway that LAND holds over Favre, you see.
If that were true, why did Childress have to send the quarterback’s three best friends on the team on a secret mission to deliver him back to Minnesota if he was so sure Favre would be there for opening day?
Because Favre is a shameless attention whore who was clearly going to return to football, but direly needed to be loved and adored before reporting to camp? Because he’s a fucking cleft asshole?
That tells me Childress, and the Vikings, had some doubt.
Let me tell you something about Brad Childress, Peter. There is NOTHING in this world that that particular gentleman knows for certain. Brad Childress could fuck up making a Pop Tart. The man needs a GPS just to find his own asshole. Saying Brad Childress had doubts about something is like saying Andy Reid may be vulnerable to baked goods.
Con job. Phony. A ploy. Say what you want. Favre was probably coming back anyway — we all know that. But that those three players spent 18 hours at the Favre house tells you Childress and owner Zygi Wilf had to have some question about Favre’s return.
Or they knew that Favre requires a goddamn rimjob before he’ll get off his ass and mosey up to training camp. I’m surprised they didn’t bring cookies and pictures of Jenn Sterger’s twat with them.
I’m not sure who really knows Favre in our business.
Because he’s so mysterious and Don Draper-esque. He’s a riddle wrapped in a mystery encased in a deer stand. You cannot know him, for he is like the wind.
I think I do…
HE USED TO LOVE ME!
…but I’ve been wrong about his fate so often in the past three years I’ve surrendered my title as a Favrologist.
No! Don’t do it, Pete! All that time you spent in First Grade Favrology 101 will go for NOTHING! No Favrologist will EVER be able to take your place. Not even Collinsworth, who was so far up Brett’s ass last night that Brett had two Adam’s apples.
There are fewer and fewer good Favrologists out there now. I’m talking board-certified ones, the ones who have studied at Farvard and Favrely-Dickinson. We need qualified Favrologists, and to lose Peter would be a tremendous blow to the field.
But I have been on his property and in his kitchen…
And in his boudoir.
…and seen the world he inhabits down there.
And lemme tell you, it’s unlike anything in your wildest dreams. It’s a peaceful, woodsy world, that smells faintly of honeysuckle. It’s a place of lost innocence, where grown men are free to wear denim and touch each other’s asses without fear of reprisal.
Like his jeans!
He ain’t cityfolk!
It’s richy-rich. But it’s his own fiefdom, it’s private as hell, and if he wants to shoot an offending varmint, he can, and no one’s the wiser.
Such is the power of Favre’s kingdom that he can shoot any number of mice and kinkajous and get away with it. Try leaving your kingdom when it affords you such all-encompassing authority.
“The hardest thing we had to do, the hardest thing by far, was getting him down that long driveway in Hattiesburg,” Childress said. “Once we got him to go down that long driveway, we had him. He was in.”
That’s perfect — and absolutely true.
Anyone who knows Favre knows he has a long driveway. It’s very long, and hard. And it can lead you to a place of ECSTASY if you let it. But fear the driveway! For he will not always be so forthcoming as to allow you to take a whirl on it. He may be out in a dewy meadow with six dead rats.
Question: Will the 18-game schedule ruin the great tradition of NFL training camps as we know them?
Oh no! Not training camp! Then we’d miss out on Al Haynesworth not doing things!
Ten Things I’ve Heard on the Training-Camp Trail, and on the Phone
1. Did you know that Chi Chi’s has no servers named Chi Chi?
2. You cannot pay electricians enough. Dangerous job.
3. Cosi makes a whale of a tomato basil soup
4. Something tells me this Peyton Manning fella will be ready for Week 1
5. Spoke quickly with John Madden about Favre and he said GARF GARF DURRR YOU KNOW BRETT FARVVHHHH DURRR GARF HE’S JUST GOIN’ OUT THERE AND YOU KNOW RUNNIN’ AROUND AND GURRHHHHHHHH GARF GARF
6. Why oh why did I trade Jimenez?!
7. Adam Schefter says someone on his bus has black shits. No lie.
8. Good for you, Knowshon Moreno. You got hurt at just the right time.
9. Still can’t tell you if Favre is gonna play or not.
10. HAS ANYONE SEEN MY BLACKBERRY?
I don’t see Darrelle Revis signing with the Jets this week either, despite reports to the contrary by Dallas columnist Tim Cowlishaw Sunday. But Cowlishaw’s good.
He’s the only guy on Around the Horn who wants to bring up hockey, and doesn’t slug women in the face!
That’s why I mention it at all — despite a source telling me there’s nothing to it.
“Hey, here’s a rumor my friend brought up. It’s stupid and wrong, but I like him, so here you go!”
So I know most of you are prepping for your fantasy drafts — I just read that 23 million Americans play fantasy football — and the most common questions I get out on the road are fantasy ones. So here’s at least one piece of advice from every camp I visited, keeping in mind I stink at the fantasy game.
Here’s some horrible fantasy advice. But I’ll give it to you because Tim Cowlishaw seemed to like it.
I’d steer clear of Matt Leinart.
You don’t say.
Ed Dickson’s the number two tight end, ahead of Dennis Pitta, and with Todd Heap’s recent injury history and the Ravens’ love of throwing to the tight end, Dickson’s a good late-round gamble.
NOTE to self: Draft useless second-string tight end who will almost certainly be on waivers unless Todd Heap gets hurt.
I’d steer clear of Matt Forte.
WHOA, SLOW DOWN THERE BUDDY. Steer clear of Forte AND Leinart? That flies in the face of all fantasy logic!
You probably can’t pick Arian Foster too high…
Yes you can.
…though he did burn an owner or two in Week 15 last season when his early fumble resulted in a two-carry, seven-yard benching.
You can’t pick this guy high enough, except for when he fumbles and is benched in favor of that other guy who can’t stop fumbling. Still, a great pickup.
St. Louis: I’d steer clear of this team.
Except for their third sting kick returner, who I’d stash away for Week 14!
San Diego: Pick Ryan Mathews in the first round, anytime after number seven, and laugh all the way to the playoffs.
You don’t even need other players on your roster! Just Mathews and pop the bubbly. He’s concrete cynaideish!
Last week, Rooney Mara won the lead role in what could be a very big movie, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, based on the first of a trilogy of red-hot crime mysteries by Swedish reporter Stieg Larsson, who tragically died just as he finished the third book… There are several graphic and sexually disturbing scenes in the book (who knows how they’ll look in the movie), and I warned (her dad) Chris Mara the other day he might want to prepare himself for a few stunners with his little girl.
“Your daughter is going to get ass-raped on camera. I have no question.”
I was rolling my L.L. Bean suitcase…
FACKIN BEAN SUITCASES! MOST DURABLE SUITCASES IN THE NARTHAHHHN FACKIN’ HEMISFEE-AHHHHHH! AND YOU CAN RETURN SHIT TO BEAN AT ANY TIME AND THEY TAKE IT BACK! FACKIN’ SACKAHS! I NEVAH BUY NEW CLOTHES! I JUST GO TO FREEPART EVERY SIX YEEE-AHS!!!
…to the front door of the downtown Residence Inn when a disheveled man — maybe 40, salt-and-pepper beard, filthy jeans, T-shirt — approached.
“Sir, I’m sorry,” he said. “Looking for some money to help me get into the shelter tonight. It’s three bucks. Can you help me at all? Can you give me a dollar? Anything?”
I took money out of my pocket. I gave him $5. He looked incredulous.
LOOK AT HOW GENEROUS I AM WITH THE LITTLE PEOPLE.
Fred Taylor has exceedingly fresh legs for a 34-year-old.
Shocking that an older, oft-injured gentleman would look fresh in August. He’s so fluid!
Wes Welker’s amazing. I could write that every week.
You already do, Peter. You already do.
Nine straight preseason wins for Miami under Tony Sparano. I don’t know what that means.
“Here’s a meaningless stat. I dunno what it means, but it has to mean SOMETHING, dammit.”
Sometimes, with his little flips out of the backfield, Aaron Rodgers reminds me — in anticipation and confidence — of Brett Favre.
/hears Rodgers smashing China collection to pieces from 1,000 miles away.
I think the Giants’ addition of guard Shawn Andrews is smart, and a good investment.
You can’t stock your roster with enough crazy people.
I think anyone who laughs at Antonio Cromartie struggling to remember the names and ages of his eight children (by six women, allegedly) on Hard Knocks on HBO the other night ought to be ashamed. There’s a crisis in this country of men who don’t take care of their kids. And the flippant way Cromartie appeared to forget a child or two is tremendously sad, not a comedic moment.
Oh, Jesus Christ. It’s funny BECAUSE it’s sad, Peter. “How dare you laugh at something without considering the social and economic repercussions! I want you all to study this HUD report before you go laughing at that advance screening of Lottery Ticket.”
Now that my intern/driver Willie Cornblatt is back at Indiana after helping me on the last week of my camp tour, I do believe I may have led him slightly astray. The poor kid wants to be me.
“When I grow up, I wanna be a failed Farvologist!”
“In one week, I learned more from you than I learned in 19 years from my father,” he said.
Holy shit, was your dad Antonio Cromartie?
Memo to Bruce Cornblatt: You’ve got a good boy.
Read much about the bedbug problem in New York City? Yikes.
Have you heard about this problem I just read about at a major news outlet! SCARY. You can’t go outside in Russia. You can’t go to bed in New York. ONLY THE BACK BAY IS SAFE FOR US ALL.
After 22 days on the road, I can say this about the Starbucksization of America: I applaud the increase of Starbucks drive-thrus, particularly in city areas where it’s hard to park the car.
Now if only they had walk-thrus, so that I could eschew my car and get my Dark Roast without men staring at me all the time.