[WARNING: I will be using the term “R-Words” throughout this article because I have no idea what’s right anymore]
Kirk Cousins walked a little slower than normal into the R-Words facility, his head bouncing back and forth from one side of his chest to the other.
[WARNING: I will be using the term “R-Words” throughout this article because I have no idea what’s right anymore]
Kirk Cousins walked a little slower than normal into the R-Words facility, his head bouncing back and forth from one side of his chest to the other. On his way in, he kicked a rock on the parking lot concrete that his sub-conscious told him didn’t belong there. Kirk pushed the revolving door feebly forward, above which a sign was painted: R**skins Quarterbacks. He stopped abruptly to heave a sigh, remembering all the good times as a starter.
Kirk was suddenly jarred from behind, and he caught himself against the wall.
“Colt?” said Kirk after turning around, “Are you following me again?”
“Uh, yeah,” said Colt McCoy. “Sorry I didn’t mean to curse. Coach said I was supposed to mimic you, remember?”
“That was in practice, not in real life. Plus, you’re the starter now!”
“Oh yeah. I’ve just been doing it for so long now…”
“Well, stop. If anything, I should be mimicking you,” said Kirk, extending his right arm out and pecking his head forward out of frustration.
Colt extended his left arm at the same time, pecking his head forward, mouth open.
“Stop it, Colt! Or I’ll start hitting myself.”
“Sorry, Cap’n. I didn’t mean to run into you. I’ve just been walking with my head down since the parking lot,” said Colt, his voice cracking a little. “I didn’t see you stop.”
“Are you getting choked up right now?”
“It’s just a lot for me, man. I didn’t know I’d get this chance to be the starter. It’s been two years, you know?”
Colt reached his left hand out to rest on Kirk’s shoulder out of habit, which Kirk softly blocked with his right, a slow-motion martial arts parry.
“You probably won’t have to be for too long,” encouraged Kirk.
The two men stood there for almost a minute, until a door opened and slammed behind them. All of a sudden, a short man in a suit and burgundy and gold tie, with greased black hair and glasses was standing next to them.
“Mr. Snyder!” Colt said, wiping his eyes.
“Colt,” Mr. Snyder started. “The Washington metro area is so excited for your opportunity against Dallas this week. Good luck to you. Hail to the R**skins.”
Snyder extended his hand.
“Thank you, sir,” responded Colt, shaking his hand with gusto.
“And you are?” Snyder said, turning to Kirk.
“Um, it’s Kirk, sir. Kirk Cousins?”
“Ah yes,” Snyder said, patting him on the back. “Welcome to the team.”
The short owner grinned at them both, turned on his loafer heel and jetted toward the revolving door of quarterbacks.
“What a nass man,” Colt said, shaking his head. “But why the hail do we want to bring hail to the R**skins? I’ve never understood that.”
He turned back to Kirk to find Kirk’s head down, his right hand rubbing his brow, and his shoulders bouncing slowly.
“Look, man. Just because you’re the backup quarterback now doesn’t mean you should make fun of me,” Colt told him.
“How quickly I’m forgotten!” Kirk lifted his head to wail.
The revolving door for quarterbacks made a revolving sound behind them as Snyder exited the building. A low, “Robert,” was heard near the door as it whirled. Robert Griffin III walked past Dan Snyder without a word, rolling his eyes and shaking his head at him. He walked into the quarterback hall to find his fellow quarterbacks seemingly in some sort of prayer, heads bowed, arms on shoulders.
“Are you guys mimicking each other again?” Griffin said.
“Robert!” they turned to say in unison, both of them wiping their eyes.
“Robert, Mr. Snyder forgot…” Kirk said, “he forgot…” He stopped there, unable to continue through the sniffles.
“That wasn’t Dan Snyder,” Griffin responded.
“Huh?” Kirk said.
“Huh?” Colt repeated.
Kirk kicked Colt.
“That was his double,” said Griffin, “You guys don’t know this by now?”
“What the hail are you talking about?” said Colt.
“–the hell are you talking about?” echoed Kirk.
Colt kicked Kirk.
“See how you like it,” Kirk said out of the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah,” Griffin said, turning toward the revolving door as if to show them that Snyder was still standing there. “He’s always walking around the facility mimicking the real Snyder when he’s here. It’s so that people don’t know when he’s gone.”
“Well, then, where’s the real Mr. Snyder?” said Colt.
“–the real Mr. Snyder,” finished Kirk.
“Stop it!” said Colt out of the corner of his mouth so fast it was barely words.
“I’m the backup quarterback,” Kirk said in a middle school bully mocking tone.
“In Dallas,” said Robert.
Colt looked at Cousins before he spoke, opening his mouth quickly to see what Kirk would do. Griffin shifted his eyes back and forth between the two of them.
“He mimics Jerry Jones!” Griffin said, raising both arms in a flash of a movement, his palms up.
Colt and Cousins both raised their arms quickly, palms up.
“Ahhh,” Griffin grunted, walking by them. He stopped and turned: “Listen, Dolt, you need to get ready for Monday. And Kirk, pull yourself together, man.”
Shame on you. A curse on your house. After four pedestrian drives against the lowly Titans, you actually started to believe that Colt McCoy is good. You wouldn’t let yourself say it out loud, but you thought it. Out loud, it sounded like this: “Hey, if Colt McCoy turns out to be good, that’s fine with me!” Inside, it sounded a lot more like Marilyn Monroe: “Oh, Colt, you shouldn’t have…” You began to imagine a future with him. You even enlisted NFL commentators to narrate your dream, didn’t you? “This Colt McCoy,” the other Gruden began on the Monday Night Football broadcast in your mind, “was thought to be a bust in Cleveland, but now we know he just didn’t have any help. What a find for the R**skins. My brother is just over the moon about this, I know it.” This, Gruden raised his voice to say over a barrage of bombastic cheering from the Washington faithful, as Colt and Pierre Garcon butted helmets to celebrate their umpteenth touchdown on Monday Night Football, one of the many link-ups between the two over their career together. Then, as if you didn’t bastardize reality enough, you thought it’d be alright to dream up a trade where the R-Words acquire a first round pick for RGIII this offseason. Then, what, huh? They draft a gem of a right tackle with this pick to keep McCoy’s jersey clean for the next decade as he clutters the record books with his name? You make me sick.
“Oh, Colt, your arm is so big…”
You’re a joke. You’re a waste.
You know who McCoy is: Kirk Cousins in two years. McCoy was drafted in the third round by Cleveland in 2010. Over the course of the next two years, he started 18 games. He threw 20 touchdowns and 20 interceptions with a 58 percent completion percentage, and won only six of those games. He’s not good. Stop it. He’s also Kirk Cousins a month ago, who played like a hall of famer in relief when the R-Words beat the Jaguars. Cleveland must have been crop dusted by an R-Words prop plane with delusion and desperation because they were duped into loving McCoy, too, once upon a time. Why Dan Snyder would take time out of his schedule to fly his “private jet” all the way to Cleveland for a day to accomplish this is beyond me. He’s like the Santa Claus of hell. Every year, the day after the regular season ends, he flies around delivering presents for R-Words fans to open in their inboxes that morning. The only quarterback controversy is over who will be the R-Words’ backup quarterback in 2015. Leave it to Washington to make that the most epic backup quarterback competition in the history of the NFL. And leave it to you to mistake it for deciding who will be the R-Words’ quarterback of the future. You disgust me.
Reasons for Hope (Poison)
Colt McCoy played well against the Titans. Although Gruden said RGIII will start when he’s 100% healthy, all signs point to that not being this week against Dallas. Maybe McCoy’s return to Texas, his country of origin, spells a well-managed game with less than two interceptions. Pierre Garcon and DeSean Jackson seem to be well-liked under the McCoy regime. The headlines all read that Colt’s first pass was a touchdown, and it was, but it was all Garcon, who burned two Tennessee backs for a 70 yard jaunt. Unfortunately, other than Garcon’s touchdown, he only caught four balls for 17 yards. Every throw his way was a paltry quick-out. The touchdown was Garcon just taking things into his own hands. Uh huh huh huh! (It’s French)
Rookie cornerback Bashaud Breeland seems to be coming along nicely. He not only pickled his first interception against the Titans, but played a good game overall. David Amerson’s name was also not called very much in the game, which is usually a good sign for corners.
Reasons for Depression
The R-Words are now playing their third string quarterback.
Washington lost their other best defensive player for the season on Sunday. Brian Orakpo tore his other pec, which I’m suspicious he does just to say that he tore his pec. Orakpo was underwhelming as it was, but he is a very good player. He gets plenty of double teams and gets his kicks by drawing offensive holding calls. Now, it’s time for second rounder Trent Murphy to show his chops. It will also be enlightening to see how Ryan Kerrigan’s stellar season evolves after the loss of Orakpo. It would be quite depressing to learn that he was mostly benefitting from the attention Orakpo gets. Look for this to happen.
The running game continues to do little. Alfred Morris is averaging just 63 yards a game this season, partly because he has only carried the ball 14 times or less in four games this year. This is partly due to the lack of commitment to the running game, which is partly due to the R-Words getting behind in games, which is partly due to the interceptions Cousins keeps throwing. Wow, that was a depressingly accurate line of reason. Or, it could just be that the Shanahans aren’t coaching the running game anymore. Let’s hope it’s the first.
Also, did I mention the R-Words are now playing their third string quarterback?
Week 8 Outlook
Colt McCoy throws for 300 yards and rushes for 100, proving my boss from Thailand, Sonny, right. “He just the same to Russell Wilson. Believe me,” he’s been telling me with his pointer finger straight up, wagging. “You will see it.” Alfred Morris gets back on the horse and out-rushes DeMarco Murray. Bashaud Breeland and David Amerson each get a pickle from Tony Romo, who returns to his old Kirk Cousins-like ways. The R-Words-C-Words rivalry gets rekindled. DeSean Jackson and Pierre Garcon each catch deep balls for touchdowns. Trent Murphy gets three sacks to kick off his illustrious and long R-Words career. RGIII gets cleared as exactly 100% healthy by Dr. James Andrews in the fourth quarter and Gruden plays him, saying, “My word is my bond.” Griffin relieves McCoy, who he thanks with a hearty handshake after McCoy’s career game, and outruns the entire Dallas defense for a 40-yard scamper on his first play. He then throws a dart to Jordan Reed for a 20-yard touchdown, declaring his return to form to the rest of the NFL, in front of the depleting Dallas crowd. Colt McCoy and Kirk Cousins cry tears of joy and applaud from the sideline. Dan Snyder sells the team.
R-Words 41, C-Words 14
In the meantime, let this drive your daydreaming (it’s hilarious):