Peter King Takes Brett’s Dong Way Serious

10.11.10 7 years ago 83 Comments

When we last left velvet footstool Peter King, he was expressing his complete and utter disgust for the Cowboys making Dez Bryant pay $55K for dinner. In other news, Peter went to Le Bernardin the other night and it was SUBLIME. He ordered the Heineken Light. A refined choice. Don’t tell me this man didn’t deserve it. He ran a half-marathon and was utterly discreet about the accomplishment.

So what about this week? Did Joe Flacco show Peter something by telegraphing a throw to Derrick Mason? Is he still skunk gray of the hair and mangled of the ass? Is it still not time to give up on Alex Smith? Really? Because it totally looks like time to give up on Alex Smith. Oh, and how does Peter feel about Brett Favre’s penis? Strongly? I bet he feels strongly about it. READ ON.

Say it ain’t so, Brett.

TELL US YOU’RE INNOCENT, BRETT! Don’t tell me that all those long cold nights I spent sitting outside your driveway and waiting you’d come down, praying you’d just open your door a crack and come running to me with open arms… Don’t tell me you’ve been a fucking GLAND BARON this whole time. Oh, Brett! I thought you were a true original! You seemed so genuine and down to Earth! And much girthier, given how well your jeans accentuated your package! WHAT DO I DO NOW THAT I KNOW THE TRUTH?!!

Maybe I’m a jaded 53-year-old who’s seen a little infidelity in this business over the years, but the voice mails don’t bother me much in terms of NFL discipline…

Maybe you’re a jaded 53-year-old, but it’s more likely that you don’t think it’s a big deal that Favre used a Jets employee to get another employee’s phone number so he could leave her unwanted voicemails and pictures of his cock because you’ve saved 200 voice mails from Brett over the years and you think he’s just such a swell guy.

By the way, Peter King strikes me as the LEAST jaded 53-year-old in the universe. No other 53-year-old is ever surprised to see traffic on I-95, or multiple Starbucks in a single location. I think Peter may have been the only person to ever watch “The Majestic” and like it. Or to watch it at all.

…what a married man does in his off time is not something I care to police, and I don’t believe the NFL should care about it either, unless there is some implied coercion involved, which does not seem to be the case here. Clumsy, yes. Coercion, no.

Except that Favre was the most famous player on the team, and there doesn’t need to be any explicit coercion to make a gal being hit on by a team VIP feel somewhat uncomfortable, even if the gal in question is a pair of talking tits like Jenn Sterger. THE GALL OF THIS FAVRE FELLOW. No one’s asking him to be suspended just because he cheated on his old lady. Except for probably Lupica. He’s a dipshit.

But in the wake of the league saying it viewed sexual harassment as a serious concern in last month’s case of the TV Azteca reporter feeling uncomfortable with the attention paid her at the Jets’ complex, it has no choice but to see if Favre has any culpability in this matter. In other words, was he responsible for sending the lewd photos to Sterger?

Or was his phone stolen by an invisible bobo monkey, who then took those photos without Brett’s consent? Let me explain why the latter theory is at least 40% plausible.

I said this last night on NBC: There shouldn’t be a rush to judgment in this case.


Favre has never been found guilty of any matter in the league’s Personal Conduct Policy in his 19 years in the NFL, and should be afforded the presumption of innocence here.


I was told by a prominent Vikings official last night that you wouldn’t even know there was a controversy with how business-as-usual Favre’s been.

What a shock that a Vikings official would tell you everything has been MAGIC and SUPER the past few days. “Controversy? What controversy? I’m sorry, but Brett and I were just helping feeding dying orphans some warm beef broth at Hennepin County Hospital, Peter. I know not of what you speak.”

Two games from (Favre’s) past might approximate the stress he could feel tonight.

Don’t say the Dead Dad game. Don’t say the Dead Dad game. Don’t say the Dead Dad game.

I don’t include normal football stress, like a player would feel in a playoff game.

Don’t say the Dead Dad game.

I’m talking personal stress, from things other than football.

You’re gonna say the Dead Dad game, aren’t you?

And I’m thinking of the game he played in Oakland 24 hours after his father’s death…

GAH! It’s not the fucking same! Listen to me: When your Dad dies, everyone feels bad for you. Everyone sympathizes. Everyone wishes you the best. If anything, you’re in a good position to succeed because you have an inspiration. Okay? Now, when you send a picture of your mangled old cock to a sideline reporter, people do NOT feel bad for you, or sympathize, or wish you the best. It’s not the same. At all.

What did I tell you about Max Hall?

So true. If it weren’t for Peter King, you would have never heard about Max Hall, unless you were a football fan. And there’s no possible way you can be a football fan and read this column. THIS COLUMN IS FOR MARLINS FANS AND MARLINS FANS ONLY.

Hall made his bones in this game late in the first half, scrambling for the end zone and diving through three Saints defenders (or trying to dive) in an attempt to score. The ball popped out and he lay on the field, semi-conscious, while tackle Levi Brown took the favorable bounce and gamboled into the end zone. Touchdown. The crowd went nuts.

So true. A quarterback can make no better play than fumbling at the goal line and being fortunate enough to have a teammate nearby to grab it and smother it. Max Hall showed me something with that fumble. What that something was, I cannot say. But I know it was special.

It’s good to be able to watch all the games in the NBC viewing room on Sundays…

Oh, are you not able to watch TV in such a fashion? Well, I’m sorry to hear that, for there are only two optimal ways to watch football: At the NBC studio, or at Kimmel’s house. Any other way and you simply won’t understand the game the way a professional does.

…because it allows me to keep an eye on players around the league.

And in the first five weeks of the season, no single defensive player in the league has jumped from relative anonymity to stardom like strong safety LaRon Landry of the Redskins.

HE WAS A TOP TEN PICK, GOD DAMMIT! Again, it’s worth pointing out, Peter King’s column is 100% dependent on you knowing absolutely NOTHING about football. LaRon Landry? Who’s he? A safety? Never heard of him. I was too busy keeping runs lively with my old Montclair buddy George Frole. Now, let me tell you about a special, hidden little gem of a player named Reggie Wayne. He’s so under-the-radar, you’d think he played for the Falcons! THE FALCONS ARE AN NFL TEAM! DID YOU KNOW THIS?

Spare me, please, all the wonderful words about what a great locker-room presence, unselfish warrior and all-around statesman Randy Moss was in New England. The way the Patriots were talking about him last week, I kept thinking he was a Mother Teresa-JFK combo platter.

“Yes, I’ll have the Mother Teresa-JFK combo platter with fries. Dark meat only, please. WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU DON’T HAVE ANY JFK DARK MEAT LEFT?!”

Think of all the teams with employees who have close ties to the Patriots and needs at receiver. None of them wanted Moss.

Think of all the gritty, scrappy, semi-Welkeresque teams out there who play football the right way – THE PATRIOT WAY – by using lots of white skill position players and treating everyone in the facility like a fucking dead ant. They didn’t want Moss, and that tells me they know a little something about winning!

Kansas City… Carolina… Cleveland…


CBS insider Charley Casserly reported Sunday that Moss and Tom Brady had to be separated in recent days from going “toe-to-toe,” as Casserly put it. But I reported on NBC’s Football Night in America show Sunday night that two high-ranking Patriots sources told me the story isn’t true.

Oh, well then! If two officials at the Patriots, who are lyingest team that has ever lied, say so, then it must be untrue!

One of them said, “Someone lied to CBS.”

BURN! TAKE THAT, CASSERLY! Here are a few other things those Patriots officials told King. They are 100% accurate:

-Tom Brady’s hair? Not gay at all.

-Bill Belichick once built a hospital in Zaire.

-Two plus two? Five. NO ONE DENIES THIS.

New York Jets (3-1). Who’d have thought the mouthy Jets would be way down the headline scale on a Monday night at home, with a Super Bowl MVP winner, Santonio Holmes, playing his first game for the home team. Wild and wacky stuff.

Ben Roethlisberger’s interview with Merril Hoge was good. The Steelers hope his return to their starting lineup is just as good.


I keep figuring we’ll all wake up one of these days and see the Colts of old. Problem is, Indy has so many injuries forcing new guys into the lineup that I keep seeing a lot of shaky Colts of new.

Are they of fresh faces as well?

MVP Watch

1. Peyton Manning, QB, Indianapolis. Look at the team he’s playing with.

Look at how little help poor, poor Peyton gets. Don’t you just feel AWFUL for him? No one else in the league has to suffer Kelvin Hayden’s mistakes!

It’s semi-decimated.


2. Donovan McNabb, QB, Washington. The last time Washington saw a quarterback with McNabb’s moxie and guts, Billy Kilmer was playing.

I said it before and I’ll say it again: I cannot get enough of this man’s moxie. It’s a strong, pungent moxie that smells of an Indian spice marketplace.

“Take away the Patriots from Bill Belichick and what is he? A gym teacher with better jewelry, no disrespect to gym teachers intended.”

Ron Borges, columnist for the Boston Herald, in a scathing column critical of Belichick for trading Randy Moss.

Rob Borges is a fucking retard with an ax to grind. Take away all the success from this one successful guy, and what is he? A NOBODY! Precious insight. I’m sure Ron lifted it from a posting at Sons of Sam Horn.

Quote of the Week III

“I can’t wait to taste his power.”

n Jets linebacker Bart Scott, who has never faced Adrian Peterson before, on the prospect of facing the Minnesota running back tonight at the New Meadowlands Stadium.

Hoo boy, that’s gay.

Well, I’m sitting here early this morning writing with a walking boot on my right foot, because of my stupidity.

Turns out that guy jogging with coffee the other week knew a lot more about how to jog with coffee than I do!

I have a stress reaction to my right fibula, which is to say it hurts a little bit to walk, and it’s a nuisance, and I’m not really injured but the thing won’t go away unless I have this boot on for a couple of weeks.


I don’t care if it didn’t work. I liked the Chiefs onside-kick on the first play of the game at Indy.

I don’t care if it failed miserably. I really liked the Vietnam War. Sometimes, you GOTTA take a chance.

The city of Detroit. It’s not easy losing 35 of 37 and not winning by a rout for five years. Happy for you.

DETROIT: Peter is happy for us! We can start rebuilding again! Can someone help me clean the moss of this homeless person’s cadaver?

My preseason prediction of the Panthers as a wild card team. I believe I have my bachelor’s in football prognostication from Idiotic A&M.

Where you majored in First Grade In Draftology 101: LEARNING WHO MAX HALL IS

John Carney. You can’t miss 29-yard chippies in this league.

John Carney. No kicker are you.

John Carney. You were your former self, but you are now no longer your former self, but the John Carney of new.

John Carney. I like the smell of cat litter.

Say Peter, how was that Lombardi Broadway play?

Here’s how I judge a legitimate scene — did it seem real, and not staged?

I dunno. You’ll have to ask a Patriots executive for verification.

And this scene was so intense that spit flew from the mouths of both men as they lit into each other.

Saliva! Now THAT is acting!

Our party met the actors afterward, and I asked Sullivan about it. Two interesting things. He said he wanted the scene to feel a little bit dangerous, which it did.

So dangerous. So wild and untamed. God, I just want to take my dick out and jack off under this Playbill.

And he said he’d gotten advice that a scene like that needed to be done like it was the first time he was doing it, so it would feel legitimate and emotional. Which it did.

Pretty good for someone in the middle of something emotional.

I think the Montclair Rumor of the Week, heard by a good friend of mine back in my old Jersey town, is a very good cross-sporting one. Too bad it’s not true: The story goes that Derek Jeter and his soon-to-be bride, Minka Kelly, were to buy the old Michael Strahan palace in Montclair. Great view of Manhattan. Close to Jeter’s family in West Orange. But I reached deep into my Montclair sources and found out that no, Jeter’s not buying in the ‘Clair. At least not now.

Fascinating. Other Montclair Rumors of the week:

-Amanda Bowers was knocked up by the lawn boy.

-Bob Whiteley? Gay as a top hat.


Have a good time at Rays-Rangers Tuesday, Tony Dungy. The visiting team is 4-0 in that series, by the way.

Here’s a special message for Coach Dungy, because I know him. And here’s a little factoid about that series that virtually everyone already knows. SEEMS THE PUPIL IS QUICKLY BECOMING THE MASTER!

Maureen Dowd of the New York Times visited a motivational seminar at the Verizon Center in Washington recently and reached this conclusion on one of the panel’s speakers, Terry Bradshaw:

“I guess I’d fuck him. There better be another penis somewhere else inside me when it happens, though.”

Rough weekend at the Starbucks on 56th and 6th Sunday night, just before 11.

A man walked in and asked for the shitter key WITHOUT BUYING A RICE KRISPIE TREAT.

All the milk in the place was wiped out except for skim. Can’t have a skim latte. Just won’t do.


So I had to do one of the doubleshot things in the can. Those actually are pretty good.

Who knew Peter would like two shots in the can? I’m stunned.

What a beautiful weekend in New York. Totally understand why so many people want to live here.

So true. Forget the great nightlife. Everyone I know moves to New York for the three nice days of weather they get every year. BUT DON’T YOU DARE PLAY THE 2014 SUPER BOWL HERE, ROGER GOODELL.

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