Heed My Lessons, Fellow Favre-Watchers

05.03.10 7 years ago 59 Comments

When last we left Favre-watching Lard Lad Peter King, he was gushing over Scott Sicko until, not even 24 hours later, the Man Who Said No to the NFL very quickly and decisively said yes. What will PK be wrong about this week? Nothing at all. Because he’s tired of playing guessing games, except when he tells you that and still hazards a guess in the same paragraph.

In other assorted loftiness, PK offers to be your terrible fantasy football adviser, if that indeed is more than tangentially related to your interests. So read on, lest PK brand you with your very own scarlet W.

The story involves the dispensation and alleged theft of 130 Vicodin tablets from the Saints’ drug locker at the team’s offices and training facility in New Orleans over a four-month period early in 2009. A lawsuit filed by discharged former Saints’ security director Geoffrey Santini, a former FBI agent, describes the recipients of the Vicodin as “Senior Staff Member A” and “Senior Staff Member B,” and profootballtalk.com reported Saturday that coach Sean Payton is Senior Staff Member A, with assistant head coach Joe Vitt Senior Staff Member B.

But Brittfar loves those same painkillers. He just has the dependency of a child out there, like a boy for his mother! The Saints were just trying to win your love!

Payton’s involvement in the case seems almost tangential. Most of the accusations concern Vitt allegedly stealing the Vicodin and Santini describing Loomis trying to cover it up. On page six of the suit, Santini asks Mangum, referring to Payton, “How are they going to explain [SSMA]?”

“He’s stopped,” Mangum said, according to the suit. “Somebody has talked to him.”

That doesn’t sound tangential at all. It sounds like he’s also being accused of stealing pills.

When Santini told Loomis about the theft, the suit alleges, Loomis told Santini and the trainers “to keep all of this confidential … Plaintiff then told GM Loomis that the video needed to be copied for use during the NFL audit. GM Loomis stated, ‘No, this is not a criminal investigation. Plaintiff told Loomis the event should be reported and without copying the video it would eventually be overwritten by the recording equipment and erased.

Between Big Ben, Eric Foster and this, I’m wondering if there’s ever been any video evidence that hasn’t been erased.

“Mickey is adamant he did nothing wrong,” said a source close to the Saints. “Sean is beside himself — he swears this is a trumped-up charge.”

Every Saints fan this morning — and a nation charmed by the improbable story of the Super Bowl Saints — has to hope the same thing.

Say it ain’t dat, Payton, say it ain’t dat!

Actually, legal ramifications aside, I really couldn’t give less of a shit if Sean Payton and an assistant swiped a bunch of Vicodin from the team facility.

Walter Jones walks away.

Now the Seahawks hand the left-tackle job to Russell Okung, who has the temperament, skills and strength to be a great one. He’ll always be compared to Jones, which will be both unfair and good for the kid.

I agree. How criminally unfair to compare someone to their predecessor at the same position. Better to weigh his output against, say, the kicker’s. More fair, but possibly less beneficial in the long run.

We shouldn’t forget about Jeff Feagles retiring either.

We shan’t. That would be unfair. As would be any analysis of his replacement.

Look up the retiring punter’s bio and the thing that jumps out is this: the number 22. From 1988, when he entered the league as a free-agent punter making $52,000 with Raymond Berry’s Patriots (Steve Grogan and Russ Francis were teammates)

(See, now that’s tangentially related.)

Feagles played every game for 22 consecutive seasons. That’s 352 straight games played, an NFL record. I don’t care if you’re a snapper or a ballboy; to never have a tweaked hamstring or suffered a bum back in 22 years and to play every game is amazing.

Bum back, the scourge of football fields the world over. The vagrant’s tendon is also one to watch out for. It controls the body’s ability to extend the arm to ask for change.

“The Favre streak is insane,” Feagles said last night, referring to Favre’s NFL record 285 consecutive starts. “He’s the iron man of football. I’m just the lonely kicker.

Feagles won’t go down as the longest punter ever (his 41.6-yard average is 110th all-time), but he should go down as the best directional punter of all time. His hang times are famous — he once had a documented 5.83 hang time on a practice punt, the highest I’ve ever heard of — and he practiced by putting a garbage can downfield and trying to land the ball in it.

Hang time, just another newfangled player measurement like 40 time and arm length.

I’ve come into possession of the letter sent by the attorney for Ben Roethlisberger, David Cornwell, to the commissioner after Roger Goodell met with Roethlisberger in April and before Goodell issued his sanction against the Steeler quarterback for his loutish behavior.

Goodell’s message to the NFL: YOU LOUT, YOU OUT!

Dear Commissioner Goodell:

I am confident that we share the same view of the men who play professional football.

“They are malleable fuckwits who are ours to exploit for riches.”

Watching Ben off the field has given me great insight into why he has been so successful on it. Ben’s rectilinear approach and his method of analysis — processing things as a quarterback so that he is in control — have served him well as a football player, but this singular focus is the primary reason that he is facing the challenges that he currently confronts. Life cedes control to no man.

“Aye.” — Downtrodden old Irish guy at the bar.

Though I could not have predicted these specifics, I am not surprised that Ben is dealing with a challenge of personal development. His passion for football and the remarkable success resulting from his commitment to the game necessarily means that he has compromised his development in other areas.

Lobes, if you will…

As you consider your options, I hope you will focus on an approach that establishes a direct nexus between your response and the issue to which it responds.

Do lawyers hold contests to see who can write the least clearly?

Following a recent disciplinary hearing, you and I discussed privately your commitment to address each case based on its unique set of facts, without regard for the rancor of the public and the press.

Goodell: “Yeah, but that was before South Park and Eminem made fun of him.”

And now for some real football news.

Awwwwww shit, PK brings da realness! Bout to get gully!

McDermott likes what he’s seen in outside linebacker Ernie Sims, acquired from Detroit in trade. “There’s a shark in the water, and his name’s Ernie Sims,” he said.

If he’s anything like the shark in this Flash game, Ernie Sims is the greatest fucking player in the history of football. In fact, fuck the rest of my PK mockery and go play it now.

Funny what happens to a guy when he looks in the mirror and sees the end of a promising career. [LenDale] White said Saturday he’s determined to win the starting job, which I’m sure is the same thing Julius Jones and Leon Washington are saying. Washington, returning from a mangled leg, will likely compete for playing time with sparkplug Justin Forsett.

No doubt he wears this jacket to prove it.

Trent Williams, first-round Washington tackle. There’s a scarlet “W” on the chest of Williams now (for “work ethic”) after Oklahoma’s strength coach told the Washington Post that Williams was “definitely not a gym rat

I thought it was for being wascally.

We’ve added a couple of perks to the football event of the spring in New England: the New England Locker Room Luncheon, benefiting the Matt Light Foundation and the Greater Boston Food Bank

More white people?

1. One lunch guest will receive two prime tickets to the game of the season, November’s New England-Indianapolis showdown.

Well, I was kind of right.

2. One lunch guest will have Light record a voice-mail greeting on both home and cell phones.

Wow, it’s like an even lamer version of Wait! Wait! Don’t Tell Me!

3. One lunch guest will get me, after visiting 21 training camps this summer, as his or her personal fantasy-football consultant. I’ll either go with you to your draft, or I’ll talk you through your draft before you go in.


“Golly! You should have heard the fart joke Chester Taylor made at Bears camp. Brought the house down. You really must take him with the no. 1 overall pick. He also returns my texts.”

Last thing: I’m involved with the Food Bank, and I know the incredible work it does (one in every 13 eastern Massachusetts residents gets food annually from the agency, totaling 31 million pounds of food)

Which by extension makes me great!

Quote of the Week I

“I agree.”

— Jacksonville rookie defensive lineman Tyson Alualu, told at Jaguar rookie mini-camp that the perception in the football world is that he was one of the biggest reaches in the draft.

He gets a scarlet A for agreeability.

Quote of the Week II

“I think the individual who asked that question, somebody ought to whack him in the head.”
— Mike Ditka to host Dan LeBatard on 790 The Ticket in Miami, referring to Miami GM Jeff Ireland asking Des Bryant in a pre-draft interview if his mother was a prostitute.

Preferably with a pimp hand.

Quote of the Week III

“Jeff Ireland is a man of great capability and integrity and he is well deserving of my continued confidence. We are going to take a hard look at our interview practices and we will make improvements that will allow us to get the important information we need about players in whom we are making a major investment, but without being insensitive.”
— Miami owner Stephen Ross, announcing he will not discipline Ireland for asking Bryant if his mother was a prostitute.

“In the future, we will abstain from asking about your whore mother.”

Quote of the Week IV

“I’d rather turn this club into a bar room brawl. Get as rowdy as Roethlisberger in a bathroom stall.”
— Eminem, the rapper, in his new song “Recovery,” referring to the infamous incident with the Pittsburgh quarterback.

Almost as good as when he zinged the Spice Girls three years after their careers were over.

Enjoyable/Aggravating Travel Note of the Week

Now this is good hotel care: Last Tuesday night, I checked into the Renaissance New York Hotel 57 in midtown Manhattan for one night. (Had some meetings in the city on Wednesday.) I got the key card at the front desk and elevatored up the room.

How about you bullet train yourself to hell, you verb inventing asswipe?

The bed in the room was made, but the rest of the room was dirty. So I called the front desk and asked if they could either clean the room or move me to another room.

“Mr. King, we’re terribly sorry,” the front-desk person said. “We’ll send someone up with a key for another room in a moment.”

Two minutes later, a bellman came up and handed me a key to room 500. Meant nothing to me.

“If it had, I would have really bitched up a storm.”

“I’m sure you’ll like this room,” the bellman said with a smile. So I went to room 500, a corner suite overlooking Lexington Avenue and East 57th Street, at least 2.5 times the size of the other room, with a nice desk and sitting room. Whoa! The other room wasn’t that messy. You’ve got my business for a long time now, Mr. Marriott.

“Mr. Days Inn can suck my dick!”

Ten Things I Think I Think

1. I think the Bears have a underrated group of receivers, with Devin Aromashodu particularly on the verge of hitting it big. The group doesn’t worry me the way it worries some Chicagoans. But Mike Martz sounds a little like Sparky Anderson saying Chris Pittaro is the next Pete Rose (remember?)

(Tangential? Shut up?)

when he says the receivers will be the strength of the Bears this year, and “you can put that in granite.” Yikes.

And then you can take that granite to the granite bank! Then challenge whatever they tell you!

2. I think the one rumor that should be universally debunked is a prospective trade of cornerback Nnamdi Asomugha to the Ravens. It is absolutely not happening. Baltimore is not looking to add another mega-salaried player to its stable of Ray Lewis, Terrell Suggs, Ed Reed (and soon, Haloti Ngata, and in the next couple of years, Joe Flacco and likely Michael Oher), particularly with Asomugha making so much more than any cornerback in football. He’s entering the second year of a three-year, $45.4 million deal, and the Raiders have the right to erase the third year at $16.8-million — but if they do that, he’d become a free-agent. Makes lots of sense for the Ravens to want him. Makes no sense for them actually to add him, and they won’t.

Well that’s good. I’m most pleased with the idea of the Ravens secondary continuing to be shitty.

3. I think the Brett Favre ankle-surgery story from the other day will have little to do with whether he plays this season, the same way something I heard the other day will have little to do with whether he plays. An NFL player who knows the quarterback well told me Favre said to him after the season, “I’m 100 percent positive I’ll never put on pads again in my life.”

Peter King has finally cottoned onto the fact that Brett Favre lies to everyone. This was a hard-won victory for reason. Grueling. Painstaking. Rewarding.

I’ve said a couple of things as a Favre-watcher this offseason:

1. Favre-watching is best done in the evening. Cricket noise provides a handy cover to the fapping sounds.

2. Don’t let cartoons fool you. Guard dogs will not be swayed by tossing giant T-bone steaks at them.

3. Don’t touch a baby Favre if you find its nest. The mother Favre will abandon it if you do.

I’m finished predicting what he’ll do, because I’ve been wrong every time I’ve predicted recently. And if I had to go to Vegas, based on the long emotional scene with several teammates and coaches in the locker room after the NFC Championship Game loss to the Saints, I’d bet he’d play this fall. He loves that team. But please, keep your money in your pocket. That’s where mine is staying.

I’m done with making fun of Peter King. Really, it’s a childish waste of my time, which could be better spent on projects more personally and socially redeeming. But if you held a gun to my head, I’d probably say Peter King is a chunky turbocunt of a tardwaffle.

6. I think, after what appeared to be a serious Achilles injury suffered by 2008 second-round receiver Limas Sweed Sunday, I’d bet Sweed’s Pittsburgh career will never take off.

There’s a daring conclusion. I like the way he waits until after a horrific injury to make this assertion, and yet still qualifies it by saying his “Pittsburgh career”. I, however, will state the obvious and say Limas Sweed will be a worthless piece of shit in all future endeavors, no matter how Pittsburghish they may be.

/watches Sweed make game-winning TD grab against the Steelers three years from now
//cries about hypothetical situation

9. I think I have one question for Patriots fans: Do you think Laurence Maroney has incriminating photos of someone? Kidding, but really, they’ve got 12 draft picks and can’t get someone to threaten the job of the terminally disappointing Maroney?


10. I think these are my non-football thoughts of the week:

a. Our prayers, thoughts, karma are with you, Gulf Coast people dealing with the oil spill. What an unending nightmare it is for all of you, careening from one disaster to the next.

Yes, our karma. So much more legit than tangible support. Do with it as you see fit, Gulf Coast. Our karma has done them a shitload of good these last few years.


b. I liked the rabbit, Conveyance, in the Derby, and I would have been a rich man if the race had been .85 miles long, not 1¼.

The tortoise always wins the Kentucky Derby, you fool.

c. Got a great tip from a friend of a shoeshine guy on Conveyance. Seriously. The shoeshine guy had picked four straight winners, legend has it, including Mine That Bird. But, hey, when I get involved, all luck and good fortune goes flying out the window.

Should’ve asked the chimney sweep, I guess.

d. Still can’t get over more men 18 to 49 watching the first round of the draft on cable than The Office and 30 Rock on NBC 11 days ago. Amazing.


e. Coffeenerdness: Tough Sunday night. Tired from a Derby party and assorted other short nights of sleep. Without Starbucks Italian roast at 5 this morning, this would have been published at noon, not 9ish.

Three hours of nationwide bated breath. What a grand exhalation was had at 9 a.m.

h. While my rotisserie team languishes in 13th place in a 12-team league (that’s what it feels like, anyway), I’d like to thank the Los Angeles Dodgers, and Jonathan Broxton in particular. I broke the dam in my league and picked the first reliever in the draft. Broxton. He was the guy all the RotoWorlds of the internet told me to pick first, and so I did. After a month, he has one save. Matt Capps, who might have been the 76th reliever taken in our draft, has 10. Yup. That’s another game I know so well.

Perhaps this was a tidbit best saved for a column where you are not offering yourself as a expert fantasy GM as a prize.

i. Re Philip Rivers: Mea culpa time in one parting football thought. Last week, I said Rivers was “full of himself” when discussing a quarterback who has been accused of the same hubris, Jimmy Clausen. I got called on it, rightfully.

Rivers is a confident guy who sometimes lets his emotions run away on the field, but it’s not fair to call a good leader, one who’s admired in his locker room and with a good human base, “full of himself.” I like Rivers and get along well with him, and consider him a good man. It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever been wrong about, but I felt I should make it right.


/typed with my dick on my iPhone”

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