OK. Obviously this was my bad.
This defense is ranked something like 867th in the league. There are Gulf Coast protective systems more capable of working together to stop a passing game running game a game.
See? They're at least plugging one hole.
The Colts D have no business being on anyone’s fantasy team unless the trade-off is for something real, like drugs. And especially the playoff week against a passing game like Phillip Rivers and whomever he surgically inserted magnets into.
But I thought, hey, Peyton has really been playing better well lately, and fuck it, a team that more or less consistently gets it done must be doing something right? Right.
I was also out of money.
In truth, the Colts suffer from Pussycat Dolls syndrome. You assume that they’re hot, but when you examine them individually, you realize that at least one of them is a dude.
So that was my fault. But the part in OT where you all decided you were done playing football and ready to play KY wrestling, instead? You guys are jerks.
About halfway through the Eagles/Vikings game, I actually said aloud, to no one in particular: isn't Westbrook supposed to be broken? Is Correll even at this game? Is he actually at the Applebee’s across the street? Is Andy Reid actually a 12-year-old with a burning coaching dream, wearing a sad merkin, and sitting on Correll’s shoulders under that coat?
So you can imagine how annoyed I was when I saw this after Westbrook (WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE BROKEN) ran in his TD:
Oh COME ON, Correll. I DON’T GET ANY POINTS FOR A PASS COMPLETION OF WESTBROOK. You had the energy to run your ass down to the end zone to catch him, but you couldn’t manage to get it together and either be open at the right time, or trip the dude and recover the fumble? I’m sure you’ve at least got one hooker to impress.
Cheering is extra.
(To be fair, I had earned two points from him prior to this arrival, but I didn’t see that/those play(s), so I assume it was a dude in a Correll costume.)
Are you serious, Dallas Clark? IT’S PEYTON FUCKING MANNING. I have to say fucking, because his middle name is actually a Mayan curse that stops your heart that Mel Gibson might have made up. You have the easiest job on this team, except for maybe Tony Dungy’s part-time job as Blaxploitation WaLuigi.
You’re not even the dude in the Pussycat Dolls. You’re the chick in the hood that just has her head photo-shopped in. Whatever, I have my pick from the top seeded teams, now. You have to go home and rim your cat, or whatever else it is you do in this alternate universe where you are a professional athlete who can’t get it together for Peyton Manning.