Rob Gronkowski (TE - New England Patriots)
If there were ever a Breaking Bad spinoff about the NFL hitmen that make fantasy players
disappear, I’d hire Bill Belichick in the world-wearied “Mike” role and Tom
Brady to succeed Aaron Paul as the fresh-faced, unexpectedly gritty “Jesse.”
SCENE
A darkened film room is filled by two shadowy figures and an unopened box of powdered doughnuts. Coach Mike wears a well-worn, gray hooded sweatshirt with nondescript stains. His quarterback, Jesse, eyes a powdery treat as the coach explains this week’s gameplan.
A darkened film room is filled by two shadowy figures and an unopened box of powdered doughnuts. Coach Mike wears a well-worn, gray hooded sweatshirt with nondescript stains. His quarterback, Jesse, eyes a powdery treat as the coach explains this week’s gameplan.
JESSE/TOM
“YEAH, SCIENCE!”
The big bad for the first season would be
Gronkowski. There’s no way a man that large is fitting into a barrel designed
for hydrochloric acid. Gronkowski might as well be the Walter White of this
operation. No matter his behavior or mistakes, he is essential to this
operation. With Antonio “Gus Fring” Gates no longer at the top of the tight end
food chain, Gronk is in the empire business.
Tom
Brady (QB – New England Patriots)
Did you just read that? He’s in a badass Breaking Bad spinoff. That will make
people forget this
haircut, this
feud with Justin Bieber, and these
Ugg boots. Okay. Maybe not. But still.
Calvin
Johnson (WR – Detroit Lions)
I think it’s time we convene a summit to decide when
it is acceptable to retroactively change a player’s nickname because real world
events have made it impossible to continue with the current one. This happens
in sports all the time. Team names found to be culturally insensitive are
pushed to wayside for new monikers, new merchandise, and some hitherto
undiscovered shade of teal to use on the uniforms. If Michael Bay continues defecating
on my childhood onscreen,
Calvin’s “Megatron” be our first order of new business for the summit. Johnson
is too good to be associated with something so horrendous… or Shia Lebouf… but
I repeat myself. If Matthew Stafford really has transformed into a top five NFL
quarterback after his (obligatory injury history reference) then we’re going to
need a new handle quickly. I hear “CJ2K” is available. Autobots, roll out!
Arian
Foster (RB – Houston Texans)
There are some hard truths in life. As I careen out
of my late twenties and into my early thirties, I am learning more of them
everyday. One is: If you’re weird, you will have fewer friends. Yes, this truth
is as timeless as the sandbox but no matter what our hipster-affirming,
participation ribbon-awarding, manic pixie dream
girl-pursuing culture tries to tell us, this one stands the test of time.
Arian Foster didn’t get drafted higher in the NFL because he was unpopular. NFL
GMs probably had no idea what to make of him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he
told teams inviting him in for an interview that he would only grant it if he
could speak solely in “Pterodactyl.”
(Please take a moment to imagine a sit down with Foster and Jeff Ireland
involving only mumbled squawks.) Despite his bouts with anti-awesomeness
earlier in life, I say we accept Foster for what he is: an insanely talented,
too brainy for his own good football player. And when we convene the nickname
summit, can we also resolve to make sure this
never happens again? Jeremy Lin thought that was in poor taste.
Aaron
Rodgers (QB – Green Bay Packers)
I could go on for a couple hundred words about
Rodgers’ stats, consistency, and general command of his offense. But the true
testament to his greatness is that simply holding a clipboard in his general
vicinity got a guy paid tens
of millions of dollars. (Seriously, Matt Flynn, you didn’t build that.
Somebody else made that happen.) One of the most amazing aspects of the NFL is
the anti-meritocracy aspect of the game. From players never getting paid their
just value to a team until they’re tool old and broken down to provide that
value anymore to the enduring popularity of every marginal franchise’s backup
quarterback, the NFL isn’t a “what have you done for me lately” league as much
as it’s a “what could you do for me tomorrow” league. It’s the opposite of high
school where the goofy, gangly tangle of limbs that make up that geeky freshman
is the coolest kid in school. The problem for a backup becoming a starter is
now you have a backup. And the hottest girl in school just asked him to prom or
made Russell
Wilson her fantasy sleeper. She’s surprisingly knowledgeable about the
Seahawks’ depth chart.
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