When we last left artful barista Peter King, he was detailing how the Colts define themselves, typing with great sarcasm, and still curious as to why TSA officials won’t do a more thorough cavity search. If bombs can be hidden in underwear, surely they can be hidden in places even more intimate.
So what about this week? Will we get a touching story about Mark Sanchez hugging his dad before the game, even though every player on every team hugs family members before any game if they happen to be in attendance? How did the conference championships affect Red Sox City? Did Peter use a car? And will he drone on and on and on about Brett Favre’s heartache? I think you know the answer to that. Let’s get this over with.
“Poor Breleigh,” Brett Favre said almost inaudibly, after hugging half of his organization and getting emotional with a few fellows, mostly Sidney Rice.
Breleigh? Who gives a shit about Breliegh? She’s probably the only kid in high school who drives a Lexus SUV with a fucking confederate flag sticker on the back windshield.
Breleigh’s the daughter who urged him so strongly to come back last summer, and now Favre was thinking how distraught she must be. “I’m sure her heart’s broken.”
I’m sure I don’t give a shit. YOU RUINED US, YOU FUCKING DICK. NOW I HAVE TO SIT HERE FOR EIGHT MONTHS WHILE YOU DO YOUR FUCKING UNRETIRING CRAP, CONTINUALLY PUSHING BACK THE DREADED “LET’S START T-JACK FOR ANOTHER YEAR” WASTE OF A SEASON AND FUCKING GOD DAMMIT THIS TEAM WILL NEVER GO TO A SUPER BOWL AND I HOPE THEY ALL DIE IN A FIREQUAKE.
PAUSE!!!! SOMETHING DRAMATIC IS ABOUT TO BE SAID!
“Of course, so is mine.”
“But watch as I bravely tape my heart back up and then go out on the field and smile! CAUSE I’M BRITTFAR AND I LOVE THIS GAME!”
No matter what you think of Favre
I think he’s a fucking piece of shit.
— and it’s no secret that through his ugly divorce with the Packers and his unending waffling about playing or not playing that he’s the most charismatic and interesting player I’ve covered in my life
Wait, what? “No matter what you think of Favre – and let there be no doubt that I ADORE HIM”…
— you have to admire how he bleeds in front of us.
YOU HAVE TO LOVE THE ACCESS HE GIVES ME! LOOK AT ALL THIS GREAT COPY I’M GETTING! IT’S LIKE I BARELY HAVE TO FORM A COGENT THOUGHT!
He goes out and gets the snot knocked out of him (“We were determined to hit him over and over and make him feel it,” said none other than his old friend with the Packers, Saints safety Darren Sharper), somehow survives, then makes a throw he never should have made. And he stands there for the inquisition and answers the questions as honestly as I think a man can in these circumstances.
Yes, so brave. SO GRITTY. HE LEADS THE LEAGUE IN GUTS AND ORGANS. Yes people, let us all circle around Brett Favre and marvel at his ability to answer questions that are asked of him. So courageous. His tape balls should be bronzed and then placed along the DC reflecting pool.
“I thought when I got hit [the high-low Saints sandwich late in the third quarter], my ankle was broken,” he said. “I felt a lot of crunching in there.”
I told him I thought it was a late hit.
THEY HIT YOU LATE, BRETTY! THAT WASN’T FAIR! Stay with me tonight. I’M ALL THE WOMAN YOU NEED!
Favre released the ball and was hit high by one rusher and low by another; the low hit looked like the kind of hit below the waist that deserved a flag.
They were trying to HURT my poor Bretty! YOU CAN’T DO THAT! HE CARES SO MUCH! LITTLE BRELEIGH MIGHT LOOK UP FROM HER IPHONE AND SEE THAT DADDY IS SUFFERING!
My feeling is he’ll be back for another season because he feels at home in Minnesota, as Tim Layden wrote so well in Sports Illustrated this week…
In case you didn’t read that article, it includes a quote from Deanna Favre that said, “I think God brought us here.” Well, lemme tell you something, Deanna. I lived in Minnesota for seven years. If God brought you there, it’s because he doesn’t fucking like you.
…and because he likes his teammates so much, but I have no inside information on it.
Do I know if he’s coming back? I don’t know. Could the Hadron Collider actually be a giant rice cooker? I don’t know. Did anyone just see me dig into my ass right there when I had that itch? I don’t know. Does Lane Kiffin sprout bat wings at night? MAYBE. The GALL of that man. The unrelenting GALL. The magnanimous GALL. The perpetualtuitous GALL. I don’t know. These are all just guesses.
When the Vikings had third-and-10 at the New Orleans 33 with 19 seconds left in a 28-28 game, they planned to call a running play to get a couple of yards closer. Then Ryan Longwell would trot onto the field for a field goal of between 45 and 50 yards.
Please note that was the Vikings’ plan. They did all that on purpose. And that’s why Brad Childress needs to be dropped into an abbatoir.
As Favre said to me: “You try to say it’s just a game, and of course it is. You know that’s the case. But it still hurts.”
God, I hate you.
No way you can blame Brad Childress for this loss…
/headless body twitches on ground
…but he made a couple of odd playcalls and non-timeout calls in the fourth quarter that’ll be debated for a while in the Great North.
NO WAY you can blame Brad Childress for this loss… unless you count all that horrible shit he did.
As I said, I don’t think the blame for this loss should be on Childress by any means, but he certainly did his part to muck it up in the last 2:37.
I don’t think you should blame Childress for this loss. Just blame him for all those things he did that helped CONTRIBUTE to the loss. See how that’s different?
The two keys to the victory, to me, are Sean Payton (for setting the tone that a coach who models himself after Bill Parcells and Jon Gruden can set) and Drew Brees (for being a good leader and a community leader and a franchise quarterback). Think back about them. Payton interviewed for the Green Bay coaching job and the Saints’ job in 2006. He preferred the Green Bay job, obviously, because of the quarterback stability (Favre and Aaron Rodgers were there) and because of the instability of the Saints after Hurricane Katrina. The Packers’ job came down to him and Mike McCarthy. The Packers picked McCarthy.
“Uh… my bad.”
(Brees and Payton) were orphans of the NFL, in a way, in a place where there were so many orphans of the storm.
Holy shit, that’s the worst correlation ever made between any group of people. Hey, they were just like old and infirm people stranded on rooftops, not knowing if the rest of their family was alive or dead!
I’ll say only one thing about the overtime rule: It stinks.
Of course, you knew Peter King would complain about the overtime rules after a game which the Vikings, and I say this as a Vikings fan – CLEARLY DESERVED TO FUCKING LOSE. They shouldn’t have even had overtime. They should have gone to the judge’s cards after regulation and awarded the game to New Orleans. “We’ll vote for the team that didn’t fumble 4 million times and isn’t run by a fuckhead.”
I won’t repeat every one of my objections to the rule that puts an inordinate amount of importance on the coin flip on overtime winners, but the NFC game was a classic case of why it’s a bad idea to not give each team one possession in overtime…
BECAUSE IT NEVER GAVE MY PRECIOUS BRETTY THE CHANCE HE DESERVED. WON’T ROGER GOODELL EVER THINK OF POOR BRELEIGH?!
The Vikings called heads, and it came up tails. New Orleans returned the kick to its 39-yard line. That meant if the Saints gained 28 yards, they’d be in realistic field-goal range for Garrett Hartley. They got 17 yards in drive sustaining penalties, and 32 yards on their own, and Hartley’s 40-yard field goal won it.
On the other sideline, Brett Favre stood waiting for his chance, the same way Peyton Manning waited for a chance that never came 55 weeks ago in San Diego. And I ask you two questions: Do you want the coin flip to have that much importance in determining the outcome of a playoff game?
I guess not, except that the NFC Title game was decided by turnovers. Horrible, incredibly stupid turnovers that make me want to mainline battery acid the more I think about them.
And if you think it doesn’t matter, why have only seven teams that won the coin flip since overtime was reinstituted in 1974 chosen to kick off and play defense?
Seven teams have pulled a Mornhinweg? Jesus.
Your witness, counselor.
CASE DISMISSED, SAYS ATTICUS KING. LIGHT: BRUNG.
I am giving the Colts short-shrift this morning, and I apologize to all of you for that.
Don’t apologize for that. I hope the Colts’ team plane flies into a mountaintop.
Tim Tebow preps for the first big week of his pro career.
And now we come to the part where Peter detaches himself from Brett Favre’s gritty and error-prone dong and latches onto Tebow’s for the next decade.
Today it begins.
Sycophancy blossoms anew!
Once the highlights and interviews from the championship games begin to fade and the reality of a Saints-Colts Super Bowl sets in, we’ll turn our attention to the compelling story of the NFL offseason, and it begins at 2:30 p.m. Central Time in southern Alabama.
Florida quarterback Tim Tebow steps into the NFL crucible, onto a practice field ringed by coaches and scouts, at the Senior Bowl in Mobile, Ala., beginning a week of practice, meetings and face-to-face visits with prospective NFL employers.
We in the media business are going to spend the next three months writing the Tebow story into the ground, but there are good reasons for it.
Because you have no better ideas?
He’s had unparalleled college success, he’s a too-good-to-be-true kid by all accounts, and he’s a polarizing football prospect because there’s great debate whether his mechanics and arm will allow him to be an every-down NFL quarterback.
Oh, so he’s an Evangelical Jason White. Super. Can’t wait to have him in the league.
Hey Peter, rank me some college juniors!
5. FS Eric Berry, Tennessee
An Ed Reed type.
DON’T ASK HIM FOR HIS GLOVES!
Quote of the Week II
“We really gave those guys the game. It’s eating me up inside.”
–Minnesota running back Adrian Peterson, after the Vikings turned the ball over five times in their NFC Championship Game loss to the Saints.
Well, to be accurate, Adrian: YOU gave them the game, you fumbling asshole. And somehow, you passed on your fumblitis to Berrian and Harvin, like a case of rectal warts. YOU DICK. YOU MADE FAT DREW CRY.
At one point 10 minutes after the game, Adrian Peterson walked out of the locker room, in full uniform, and just stared at the celebration of Saints on the field.
And then, he fucking fumbled.
7. Arizona (11-7). As I said last week, my guess is Kurt Warner’s retiring.
But that’s just a guess. I have no inside info on that. What do I look like, a journalist?
12. Pittsburgh (9-7). The start of a quiet offseason is upon Steeler Nation … just the way the Rooneys like it.
All is quiet in Steeler City!
Coach of the Week
Jim Caldwell, head coach, Indianapolis.
He may rock the sporting public to sleep with his words, but it’s not his job to be Conan O’Brien.
OH BURRRRNNNNNNNNN. Peter King: Jeff Zucker’s attack barista!
It’s easy to sit there and say, “Well, he’s got Peyton Manning, and anyone who has Peyton Manning just has to roll the ball out there at practice and the team will coach itself.”
And it’s easy to say that because it’s 100% accurate.
Caldwell has taken Tony Dungy’s team, massaged the defensive coaching staff and structure of the defense…
Massaged it, rubbed it down, applied scented oil to its groin and made gentle swirling motions…
Dinner at Gautreau’s, a tony French spot built in a 1911 pharmacy in the Uptown District, and one of the truly hidden-gem restaurants in New Orleans. Hidden, because there’s no sign for it. I’ve never been to a restaurant, or any legal business establishment for that matter, with no sign out front.
No sign? But how did you find it, Peter?
I much prefer restaurants with signs. Like Romano’s Macaroni Grill! They have tons of sings outside! They must be high quality!
Owner Patrick Singley bought the classy, signless restaurant in 1993, and when I said I couldn’t get over a place of business not having a sign, he said, “It didn’t have one to begin with, and I just figured, ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’ ” Archie and Olivia Manning must feel that way. On Thursday night, the night I ate there, they shared their 39th anniversary dinner.
OLIVIA: I love you, honey.
ARCHIE: I love you too, dear.
OLIVIA: Is that Peter King over at the other table?
ARCHIE: (looks over shoulder) Oh, Christ. Don’t make eye contact.
OLIVIA: Why does he keep following us?
ARCHIE: Just put your head down and fucking eat.
Room service order-takers. If it’s happened to me once this year, it’s happened 10 times — getting pushed to order things you don’t want. Working in my room in New Orleans Sunday, I picked up the phone to order the following: three-egg omelet with onion and tomato, ice water, small pot of coffee, cream…
BUT WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY KIT KATS?! WHERE WILL I GET THE SUDDEN BURST OF ENERGY TO STALK THE MANNINGS NOW?!
It’s amazing how few people with existing jobs want to work under Lovie Smith in Chicago.
LOVIE: I want you to work with me.
PROSPECT: No thank you.
LOVIE: I challenge your refusal.
I think you’d have enjoyed the dinner I shared with sportswriter pals and the girlfriend of one of them Saturday night at Emeril’s Delmonico on St. Charles.
Oh, were you not there? Well, let me painfully recap it in its entirety!
As FOX Sports’ Alex Marvez said, we never really get to do things like this much anymore.
Indeed. But why aren’t Schlereth and Hoge paying for their meal? What? You thought I was paying for it?! DAMN YOU, CAPITAL GRILLE!
The sportswriting business has changed, particularly for national writers who no longer spend days in town before games. Budget cutbacks and restrictive media policies have diminished the importance of actually getting to a city two or three days before a big game and spending time with the important characters in the game.
I miss the trees and the talk!
Anyway, I rounded up a few writers (some I don’t know well but should) and we had a nice meal … and I proposed a pool for the nine people at the table. Throw $5 in the pool, and pick the team that drafts Tim Tebow.
Winner gets first dibs on his T-Bone!
I proposed we do the order of the draft with those living farthest from Gainesville having the first pick, and here it went:
Mike Silver, Yahoo!Sports (Northern California) Jacksonville
Sam Farmer, L.A. Times (Southern California) St. Louis
Albert Breer, Boston Globe (Boston) Buffalo
Peter King, Sports Illustrated (Boston) San Francisco
Immediately upon hearing my pick, Silver sent the following text-message to San Francisco GM Scot McCloughan: “You can’t pick Tebow. It has something to do with a pool, alcohol, and Peter King.” A minute later, two letters came back from McCloughan: “ok.”
Come on! Stand up for your Tebow, Scot!
Ha! It’s funny because they all know each other! Come on, Scot. DRAFT Tebow. I told Mike Tannenbaum to trade for Brett Favre, and look how well that turned out!
Jeff Duncan, New Orleans Times-Picayune (New Orleans) Miami
Angela Craig, girlfriend of Jeff (New Orleans) Denver
“You might be right,” I said to Angela, who works for a technology company.
He may go to Denver. I have no inside info on that. Just a guess. Will he go to Denver? I dunno. Will giant lobsters crawl out of the ocean and colonize us? MAYBE. All I know is this: If I’m Josh McDaniels, I draft Tim Tebow without even looking at the tape, and then I suspend him for insubordination, and then I crack open the champers.
“But why’d you pick Denver?”
“I’m from Denver!” she said.
Alex Marvez, Foxsports.com (South Florida) Cleveland
Jeff Darlington, Miami Herald (South Florida) Tampa Bay
Jason Cole, Yahoo!Sports (Gainesville, Fla.) New England
And the crowd went “Ooooooooh,” on Cole’s pick of the Pats.
WE COULD HAVE USED THAT PICK ON SHONNE FACKIN’ GREENE!!!!!!!!!
So someone’s going to win $45 … or some New Orleans cause is going to get a free $45 if it’s another team. That’s what we’ll do with this pot if Tebow goes to any of the other 23 teams in the league.
Marvelous story. Now tell me about the coffee! Surely it was better than Sibling Rivalry’s!
Favre bought a remote-control fart machine (what a country!)
He such a kid at heart! Or should I say, AT FART? HUH? HUH? What a democracy. BUT WHY CAN’T THEY GET MY ROOM SERVICE RIGHT?
…and put it beneath (Lee) Remmel’s seat near the front of the bus for the ride from the Chicago hotel to Soldier Field before a game against the Bears. As the quiet bus made its way to the stadium, Favre kept pressing the button on the machine, and the fart sounds kept coming from under Remmel’s seat, and Mike Holmgren shot a few dirty looks over his shoulder at whoever was doing this nonsense.
And then Favre threw a back-breaking pick later in the game, because he was too busy playing with a fucking fart machine to concentrate on not fucking up.
Best wishes also to ailing John Minko of WFAN in New York, recovering from bypass surgery. Good guy, good Hoosier.
The great thing about P.J.’s Coffee in New Orleans? People go there to read, to have civil discussions (I heard a local politics discussion among five retirees in the P.J.’s on Maple Street near the Tulane campus Friday morning) and to work quietly. It’s what coffee shops should be.
And they have artful baristas! And no Germans take their papers to the shitter! And no one there wears Ugg boots!
Those of you who travel a lot will understand why the best news of the week for me was squeezing into the Conrad Hotel in Indianapolis for the upcoming NFL Scouting Combine. What a gem of a hotel.
Aren’t you happy for me?! I got a reservation at a great hotel! WITH FREE COFFEE IN THE LOBBY! Little Breliegh’s heart can begin healing now.
Shoot me in the balls.