I feel bad doing this… I really do. But Peter King is very popular, very successful, and read by just about everyone. It’s not like I’m going to chip away at his popularity here, so to hell with it. I want to first mention, though, that the first two pages of the column, the ones about Wellington Mara, were very good. And this comes from someone who has no connection to, or knowledge of, the Maras, and I read and enjoyed Peter King’s words on him. But, that said, goofiness abounds. It was as if Peter King got out of bed this morning and said to himself, “Hey, let’s give MJD some material this week.” Peter’s in italics, I’m in bold.
On his bye week, Peyton Manning went to Knoxville, where Tennessee retired his number on Saturday, then on to New Jersey for little brother Eli’s Sunday showdown with Washington. He was chuckling wryly when he said this to me in midweek: “What would a bye week be like for me without two football games?”
It would be a 48-hour sex romp with Kenny Chesney, that’s what it would be. By the way, how’d Peyton enjoy seeing Tennessee lose to Steve Spurrier? Would deja vu be an accurate description?
And on the Sabbath, Jerome Bettis rested those valuable pins for the duel with the Ravens.
Because it’s never a bad time for the Jerome Bettis/God comparisions. The duel with the Ravens, by the way, will be contested without Ray Lewis or Ed Reed, but with Anthony Wright, and the final score should be something like 82-0. Of all the Monday Night matchups this season, this is the one I’m least likely to see as a “duel.”
On his bye week, Michael Vick attached a lot of electrodes to his hamstrings and calves and ankles and said: “Hang in there for three more months! Hang in there!”
What did he do for his ability to read a defense and make accurate throws? Did he crack open his skull and attach an electrode to his cerebral cortex? Can you you put an electrode on the central nervous system somehow? Really, I think his legs are the least of his problems.
“I think this is the hardest job in sports.”
–Yankees GM Brian Cashman, after signing a new three-year contract with the team.
Without wanting to sound too disrespectful, Brian, ARE YOU HIGH?!!!!!!
It just makes me laugh when Peter King screams about something.
There was a basset hound trotting down New York Route 8 in the southbound lane just outside of Deposit on Friday morning. Cars didn’t disturb the oblong fellow. He would just jog over to the side when a southbound vehicle approached, continuing to pad along. He would ignore the slowing northbound traffic.
So, to recap, a dog was running along the side of the road, and he would get out of the way when a car approached. That’s riveting. Animal behavior is so peculiar sometimes. Normally, when I see dogs on the side of the road, they’re bouncing around, running into cars and barking to the tune of “London Bridge.” Many of them operate their own independent lemonade stands. But this special creature was avoiding moving vehicles. Remarkable.
I think, regarding replay — and I have said this a thousand times — that an official has to have indisputable visual evidence to overturn a call.
You think? Isn’t that the actual rule? Isn’t that something that every commentator says every time there’s a replay situation? Thanks for the clarification, though, a thousand times over.
I would like to announce, drum roll please, that I’m a heterosexual male.
I have my doubts, but okay. I would like to see what Tom Brady and Bill Belichick had to say about the situation, though.
I don’t understand the mania around athletes announcing their sexual preference. Do the vast majority of Americans care whom Sheryl Swoopes sleeps with?
Here’s the reason for the mania: America, as a whole, doesn’t like homosexuals. Now I know we’re not all as wordly or metropolitan as Peter King, but believe it or not, there are people out there who aren’t 100% comfortable with the idea of homosexuality. Now, in the case of Swoopes, no one cares because she’s a WNBA player at the end of her career. But a male athlete in a major sport? Yeah, that’s a big deal.
I don’t want to compare levels of courageousness, but… y’know, I wonder if Peter understood the mania around Jackie Robinson being black and playing baseball. Being gay and being a big-time athlete is going to be very difficult for the first person who does. Maybe not Jackie Robinson-difficult, but difficult nonetheless. Swoopes was a step towards that. While I don’t care about the WNBA and probably never will, I understand the newsworthiness of the item.
If you ask for a coffee with cream with your room-service oatmeal, as I did on Sunday morning at the Houston Airport Hyatt, and coffee with some thinnish kind of milk is sent, what are your options? Call down and wait 15 minutes (or more, who knows?) for the half-and-half to be sent? Or shut up and be a man and drink the one-percentish milk? I chose the latter.
FUCKING MANLY, BRO. ARRRRRRRGH. I guess that was just to hammer home the point about being a heterosexual male. Believe me, if you drank the coffee with the low quality milk… I am convinced.
I am really getting to be an old lady.
Don’t contradict yourself, Peter.
