At the risk of sounding cliché, dry, and Madden-ish – football is the ultimate team game. It invokes strong parallels to war and those painful corporate “team building” exercises that ultimately result in you hating your coworkers even more. In theory, no single player is larger than the sum of the team. Each player (backups included) work as a cog in a well-oiled conglomerate designed to win and pay for the team owner’s lap dances. In this aspect, it is much like an Asian sweatshop with the players as the small children with blistering fingers working 22 hour days (albeit with slight wage discrepancies) and the owner as himself – the cutthroat, greedy prick that he is. As I said – the ultimate team game or dictatorial regime.
Most players subserviently fill their roles as faithful servants (or soldiers in the case of Lieutenant Kellen Winslow), and the machine operates beautifully. In the machine, the quarterback gets the privilege of being bequeathed with all the accolades and riches associated as the primary front man of a winning enterprise. Yep, the quarterback is showered with media adoration, absurd fan loyalty, and a salary greater than the GDP of Canada. Quarterbacks have lived this life of luxury since Pop Warner football as young boys. They have never battled in the trenches like linemen, they never sacrificed scarce brain cells like a fullback, and they surely never jumped on the tuba playing dame in the high school band like the poor punter.
As coddled, adored legends, quarterbacks often earn the resentment of their teammates. While the quarterback is busy celebrating the win by sipping champagne off the small of Gisele’s back, you – the faithful left tackle – are tending to ailments and wounds while your wife (B-team girl you knocked up in high school) is feeding you Hamburger Helper. Who wouldn’t be overcome with envy? Everyone gets sick and tired of that stunning, dreamy, bronzed, chiseled Adonis getting all the perks (sorry, got caught up in another Quinn dream).
With perks, often comes an overwhelming sense of entitlement and utter lack of awareness to the needs of others. In short, you’re a selfish douchebag. The NFL is riddled with plenty of douchebag quarterbacks. For the 2009 season, I am going to list my Top 7 douchebag quarterbacks (7 in honor of John Elway. NOT a douche.) There is only one rule for the list: to make the list, the quarterback must currently be the starter on his team’s depth chart. This excludes obvious douchebags (Vince Young, Chris Simms), but it is hard to be super douchey when you’re holding a clipboard. I encourage you to voice your quarterback douchisms in the comments section. For now, onto the list…
7. Aaron Rodgers
Douche tactics: affinity for bro-ish facial hair, smug grin typically reserved for quarterbacks who have won something, brash predictions of success once Favre was on the way out, hails from California/played in the Pac 10.
What doesn’t suck about him: you have to feel sorry for the poor bastard who has to follow uber-douche Favre.
2009 outlook: Rodgers is a gifted quarterback with some serviceable parts surrounding him in the Packer offense. The Pack plays in a winnable division. Rodgers better play balls-out on November 1 when the archrival Vikings come to town with their new, stubbled douche quarterback in tow.
You’re going out for a drink. Where is the quarterback taking you? Rodgers is meeting you at a NoCal beach bar. You’re splitting a bucket of Coronas (douche juice) and fish tacos. Awkward conversation is only salvaged via Favre bashing.
6. Mark Sanchez*
Douche tactics: played for USC, first USC quarterback to leave early since Todd Marinovich (colossal idiot), posing for GQ before a mere start in the NFL, hails from California/played in the Pac 10, alleged sexual assault while in college.
What doesn’t suck about him: embraces his Latin heritage. Seems like a nice guy (unlike Rodgers).
2009 outlook: Dirty Sanchez is bound to earn the starting job over the feeble cripple he is battling in Kellen Clemens. Sanchy will fail to live up to the unrealistic expectations of the union-working Jets fans. Like Rodgers, Sanchez coincidentally is filling the faux work boots of Brett Favre. This actually lessens his douche quotient.
You’re going out for a drink. Where is the quarterback taking you? Mark is taking you to a salsa bar on the Lower East Side. You’re sipping mojitos. You’re dancing. It’s getting a little racy. You leave for the restroom, but out of the corner of your eye you see Mark drop something in your drink. You wake up in a New Jersey dumpster and remember nothing. Annnnnnd SCENE!
*I know Mark isn’t technically the starter yet, but I’m hedging my Week 1 bet that he will be.
5. Tom Brady
Douche tactics: hails from California (noticing a trend?), knocked up a gal and dated another (or something like that), plays for the most annoying city of fans in all of sports – Boston (not really his fault), models, played for Michigan.
What doesn’t suck about him: he is kind of good at football. Not nearly the dick of his head coach.
2009 outlook: Tom Brady is coming off a devastating 2008 in which he got to spend the season recovering from knee surgery, pleasuring Gisele, and collecting his massive pay check. The recession hit us all.
You’re going out for a drink. Where is the quarterback taking you? You, Tom, and Gisele are going to a posh patio bar in Hollywood. Tom is drinking a Stella Artois – a diversified, cultured bro pick. Gisele is drinking a martini. You’re spilling all over yourself as you ogle Gisele and listen to Tom’s lame jokes.
4. Jay Cutler
Douche tactics: where to begin? Perpetual state of pouting, forced his way out of a quarterback’s dream job, doesn’t return employer’s phone calls, makes fun of his old fan base in a lousy attempt to gain affection from his new fan base, whines.
What doesn’t suck about him: I loved the dude until about six months ago. Superb talent. You view his pouting as a cool “I don’t give a f*ck” attitude when he is winning ball games. You wish you had that attitude.
2009 outlook: Cutler whined his way into a trade to the place where quarterbacks go to die – Chicago. Bland offense, bad weather. I can’t pen this without bias. I hope A.J. Hawk knocks his helmet hair back to Pissville, Indiana and dumps pure cane sugar into his diabetic blood stream.
You’re going out for a drink. Where is the quarterback taking you? A good underage bar in Chicago. Not going to lie here. Big Cut can drank. He’s buying shots and tossing diabetes to the wind. You’re making out with the scraps of his A-list hookup. All is well until he ditches you at the bar and you’re left picking up the tab. The scrap you were mugging out with is now stuck to you (Kyle Orton). Try to stay positive.
3. Tony Romo
Douche tactics: baseball hat is in a everlasting reversed fashion, when not wearing a baseball hat he wears cabbie hats, more interested in celeb status than winning football games, tries to sound smart and articulate during interviews yet fails miserably, wears dog tags, sought sympathy in the T.O. situation despite T.O. furthering Romo’s career immeasurably.
What doesn’t suck about him: doesn’t seem like a huge dick. Plays golf.
2009 outlook: Cowboys miss playoffs, Romo addresses media in retarded platitudes, Jerry Jones signs Michael Irvin at receiver. I love this city.
You’re going out for a drink. Where is the quarterback taking you? Ghost Bar in Dallas. You’re stuck in a wardrobe pinch (you’re dressed normally), so Romo lets you borrow a v-neck shirt and a spare set of dog tags. Women flock to Tony, but he can’t close the deal. You, appalled with humanity, thrust yourself from the 33rd floor Ghost Bar balcony to a Dante’s Mullet martyr-esque death.
2. Philip Rivers
Douche tactics: endless. Antagonizes fans on the road, picks verbal fights with opposing quarterbacks, pushes the football instead of throwing it, doucheist smirk in football history, drove the loveable (and better) Drew Brees out of town.
What doesn’t suck about him: Nothing. Huge ass. I pray for training camp ACL tears.
2009 outlook: Chargers win a weak division much to this author’s chagrin. Rivers talks UFC trash to all fans – home and away. Chargers get burned in first week of the playoffs with Rivers throwing 4 INTs and getting throat stomped by a throng of white trash fans (home game in San Diego).
You’re going out for a drink. Where is the quarterback taking you? A meathead bar in San Diego. Phil is firing up card drinking games. Keystone and Jager runneth over. Philip is tossed for brawling after he sees a fan in a Cutler jersey.
1. Brett Favre
Douche tactics: thinks he is above the game of football, couldn’t define “retirement” on an exam, totally screws over incumbent quarterbacks trying to make a living (Rodgers, Pennington, Rosenfels, Jackson) by showing up whenever the hell he wants, vindictive against a franchise that treated him as a demigod for nearly two decades, he is the most faux blue collar man since Toby Keith, throws interceptions the way Pete Rose threw games, craves attention, (could go on for ages). OH YEAH and he faked a retirement because he is a lazy, old bastard who didn’t want to go through training camp while knowing all along he’d become a member of the Vikings.
What doesn’t suck about him: I used to like this guy. I liked his old school attitude. All is gone. Ethics and integrity mean nothing to this guy. I feel horrible for Vikings fans.
2009 outlook: Favre goes for his standard 20 TD, 22 INT season. The fanbase begins to hate him. The locker room begins a three way split between Favre, Sage Rosenfels, and Tarvaris Jackson. Vikes miss the playoffs. Favre re-re-retires. Peter King weeps. The rest of the world rejoices.
You’re going out for a drink. Where is the quarterback taking you? The night starts great. You and Brett go to an old fashioned drankin’ bar. Whiskey shots and Budweiser. This is man time. Brett playfully tosses a football across the bar to an adoring Packers/Jets/Vikings fan. You turn your head for a moment. All of the sudden – Brett is gone. You eventually saunter home only to find him making love to your wife. He has two middle fingers raised and is wearing your middle school jersey. You enter your backyard for a gentleman’s execution courtesy of Roger Goodell.
College football can’t come soon enough.
Between "Union working Jets fans" and that picture of Phyllis Rivers, this could be my favorite entry so far. Nope, second to the one with the picture of Messier. Close though.
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