I was checking our favorite team's website, and I saw something weird: an article that was up for only a few minutes. I immediately clicked "back" and copy/pasted the whole thing. Read on!
I'm not sure how much longer I can do this.
The alcohol isn't helping, anymore, and I can barely force myself to use my madlibs-esque writing software. (insertplayer is in the fold! insertplayer is penciled in as the starter!) The Giggler is roaming the halls unchecked. Bob Bratkowski is still trying to figure out whether he should bring a switchblade or a caveman-style club to a gunfight. Mike Brown is terrified of a fan uprising, and he's barricaded himself in his office -- but the barricade is nothing but filing cabinets that contain printouts of scouting info, and the scouting is so negligible that I could kick the door in.
They'll catch me before long, but until then, I'm going to tell you the truth. I can't take it anymore. It's one thing to say that the emperor has no pants, it's another when your organization's motto might as well be "The incompetence will continue until competence improves."
Let's start with the basics...the experiments are over. All of them.
The paradoxical "we're a traditional ball-control team that specializes in no-huddle" experiment. The "we've invested a fortune in one player and we're going to use flakes and UDFAs to protect him" experiment. The "is Brat stuck in the '50s or the '80s?" experiment. The "we want to be a strong 4-3 team, but we're going to accept mediocrity from key positions like DE and MLB" experiment.
Oh, but Really Smart People know that the Giggler is really one of the NFL's best coaches, and that this is all part of his plan! Right. Remember all those articles where I used the input of "a scout in the NFC West" or "a front office guy in the AFC South"? Where they'd praise us for things the mainstream media would never acknowledge? In actuality, those roles were played by my Tom Brady action figure, who's one of the few people who's gotten me through this nightmare. YOU STAY STRONG, LI'L TOM. YOU STAY STRONG.
This disaster is the worst-kept secret in the league. "No, you're wrong, Andre Smith will be a great player! Kenny Irons will be our starter by next year! DeSean Jackson will suck, Jerome Simpson's giant hands will make him the best ever!" Yeah. You fans defend the team from other fans and a common-wisdom-spouting media, and the team humiliates you by proving them right. You've lucked out, at times--Benson, gems like Brandon Johnson. But even that should've been a worrying sign.
This team has gotten more production out of free agents (some good, some bad) than its own draft picks. Andre can't unseat Roland. Rey can't unseat Dhani. Brandon Johnson has looked more solid than Rivers at times. You were fortunate to get Leon and Joseph, and some guys on offense, but shouldn't draft picks be looking better than obscure/end-of-their-career FAs?
Let's not forget the Giggler's position-determining dartboard. DE David Pollack...to SLB! DE Ahmad Brooks...to SLB and then MLB! Rey struggles with the mental aspects of the game, so let's have him learn two positions! Nothing could possibly go wrong there. Mike Sheppard is a QB coach, and we all know that QBs and WRs are similar personality-wise, so let's move him to WR coach! I'm sure a guy like him could relate to the late Chris Henry.
Spoiler warning: you know those shows like Battlestar Galactica and Lost, the ones that tell you they have a plan...and then you get to the end, and you find out they were making it up all along? This is identical. Your once-future MLB is now playing in the UFL. Your main division rivals have standout safeties, but you've decided that weakside linebacker is the more important position. Four years later, you still don't have a center that's a worthy replacement for Braham. Remember those articles I wrote about the search for a #3 WR, after Henry first got suspended? It took you until now to get one (Shipley). Let's not even get into the parade of failed MLBs.
I'm drunk out of my mind, and I'm listening to Journey really loud, but I'm still a pretty considerate guy. I don't want to offend anyone's religious whatever, but Mike and the Giggler are the best proof for evolution you'll ever see. Can you imagine either of these hapless, helpless creatures surviving outside of their current situation? The NFL is fail-proof for owners, you'll get revenue automatically. Cincy fans have freakishly-low expectations, so just promising competence will be enough to placate most of them. Any other coach doing this badly would be pressured from the city's media (spineless), the owner (ha), or the football-savvy GM (doesn't exist). The two of them are in ideal situations...the rest of us, not so much. They've perfectly evolved to get by as parasites, whether they're draining from the league or the team's pliable, shell-shocked fanbase.
Oh, god, they're pounding on my door, now. I can hear giggling. Zimmer's trying to hold him back, but he's distracted (how do you dominate with DT-esque DEs, and DE-esque DTs? Stop screwing around and draft guys that are prototypical for their position!). It's Blaze of Glory time. For a friend, I've got Li'l Tom, and for a weaopn, I've got the Giggler's coach of the year award (which smells like strawberry wine for some reason). BRING IT ON
Our favorite team isn't competent enough to catch an "I'm mad as hell" article right away, which is how you know this is a parody. In real life, it'd stay up for days, and no one would notice, as Mike Brown only communicates via telegraph.