There is a big foot-ball game this Sunday, in Denver, involving two teams — except not really, because it actually only involves two players playing the same position who will never be on the field at the same time and who will have zero direct impact on how the other plays. One is the old warhorse who left Indy for more Broncos-y pastures…the other is his upstart replacement. Buckle your chinstraps, gang! That’s right…
…it’s JACOB TAMME!! COBY FLEENER!! THIS TIME IT’S FOR ALL THE
MARBLES DROPPED 5-YARD OUTS!
No, it is certainly not about that. Nor is it about Andrew Luck not-playing against Peyton Manning for the third time, although there are 9,000 boring sports-writer-y articles out there saying that’s exactly what it is, with each taking a side regarding who’s better/more “clutch.” And while that’s a bit Kravitz-ian for my liking, there is certainly no shame in warming your frozen eyeballs against such scorching HOT TAKES considering it’s negative-FUCK YOU degrees outside right now and heat is at a premium.
Me? I’d rather discuss a far more pressing concern, one that threatens our very way of life…one that has grown into an epidemic that must be stopped. I’m speaking, of course, of this:
This growing trend is unacceptable. It is horrifying. It is the ISIS of sports Fandom; it’s the mixing of your bullshit orthodoxy with your bullshit sense of fashion...and then sprinkling in some added crazy for good measure — and not just “normal” crazy either, but the fucked up kind that owns a tanning bed & crossbows. The kind that somehow thinks this is a “statement piece.” It is not a statement piece. It is a weird cry for help and it must STOP.
Listen: we, as a city — as sane and decent Colts fans — we're already on thin ice. Remember when Rolling Stone did their scientific study and determined that our favorite band was Nickelback? (“Hahaha NO!” says everyone who as a result of that "study" doused their brains with chloric acid and immediately moved to Grand Rapids.) I do! America does, probably! And the more this shit pops up — and be afraid, it DOES. POP UP. A LOT — the more we become the terrible stereotypes that aren't even true.
I beg of you, dearest stupid meathead Colts fans who own them: PLEASE THROW THESE MISERABLE THINGS INTO THE NEAREST TRASHCAN FIRE IN YOUR LIVING ROOMS AND NEVER PROCREATE. Thank you and God bless.
(Colts 38, Broncos 35)