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Open Letter From Donovan to T.O.

Let's Be Friends

Let's Be Friends

In my ever-growing passion for voyeurism, snooping, stalking, and overall invasion of others rights, I was able to uncover a letter that Donovan McNabb passed to Terrell Owens after the Eagles spanked the Cowboys with all the brotherly love they had.  I bring you this letter, although displaying it here may cause me significant bodily injury.

Hello Terrell,

Hey man, how’ve you been?  I saw you out on the field today and I wanted to say what’s up, but you seemed kind of busy and distracted.  Now I know we beat you today, but keep your head up and know that we’ll really make the most of playoff spot.  C’mon man, be honest.  Were you guys gonna really make a show with your QB always looking for Jason Witten?  I’ mean, Jason Witten!  You should’ve called a meeting or done some pushups in the driveway to show them how you’re the real deal.  They needed to be looking to number 81 all day, don’t you think?  I guess you’re a bigger man than me because I’d be yelling at everyone on the sidelines if that sh*t was happening to me.  It’s good to see you’ve grown.

Speaking of the past, man I’m sorry I didn’t understand how to communicate with you when you were up here.  I thought that when you berated me on the sidelines, divided the locker room, and threw me under the bus (multiple times) it was because you were a primadonna, bitch-ass, immature punk, but in reality you were nothing but class.  We should have been throwing to you all the time and we actually needed you to be head coach, GM, special teams coordinator, and owner.  My bad, my man.  My bad because I see how it worked out for the Cowboys when they catered to your every need.  Y’all went pretty far this year and exceeded a lot of expectations.  I’m just sorry we had to keep you out.  Andy Reid, you remember him right?  Well, Coach Reid sat me down this year and I thought a lot about how you would handle it.  I thought, “what would the humble TO do?”  So I sat back and did exactly the opposite, so I really thank you for being a role model.  In a sign of my appreciation and gratitude maybe me and you can get together in the off-season to run routes and devise new schemes for you to get the ball so that Witten and Marion Barber don’t steal all your thunder.  I won’t be available until after we win the Super Bowl, but wouldn’t that be loads of fun?  Me and you playing catch like the good old days.  Let me know if that’s cool with you. 

Hey man, I have to go prepare for my victory press conference and all the stuff that goes with being a winner (you remember that feeling, right?).  Anyhow, have a good New Year and good luck in the offseason.  Oh…by the way, Jeff Garcia says what’s up.

Your Friend,

Donovan

FlyMaster Signing Off…For Now!

December 30, 2008 Posted by | Features & Opinions, General, NFL, Talkin Trash | , , , , , | Leave a comment

No Fantasy This Holiday Season

The second to last week of December ushers in the Christmas season and prepares us for the New Year, new beginnings, and … the end of Fantasy Football. While most of the world runs around for last minute gifts, stocks up on cartoned nog, or indulges in taboo vices before they make fleeting resolutions, a large segment of the male population closes its doors to Fantasy Football. The 4 month long trudge through two-a-days of Yahoo/Fox updates and second-guessing Steve Slaton’s match-up against Carolina’s run D are over. Ladies, your men are back.

What the world really thinks

What the world really thinks

For 15 to 17 weeks, we are fixated on backup tight ends and whether Nate Kaeding will have more field goal attempts than John Carney. That season long digital trance is what I call the Fantasy Football Funk (FF Funk).

This FF Funk has many a symptom:

  • It causes guys to root against their home team (if indirectly) — “Man, I hope my Giants beat the Cowboys, but Eli throws 3 picks and fumbles twice, because I’m playing Stu this week.”
  • “Hellos” and “What’s ups” are no longer part of exchanges between buds, rather just straight to: “Fool, you’re stupid for starting LT.” or “Hey, you still got a chance on Monday night, IF Seneca Wallace throws for 6 scores against the Steelers.”
  • Guys outright avoid meeting up for drinks or pick-up hoop games for fear of said clowning (see above). Note: Poker night attendance suffers during the FF Funk season.
  • If exchanges are mutual, then we encounter 4-hour long discussions on gap-schemes and ball-hawking fullbacks. FF Funk guys become astrophysicists in these discussions with the eloquence and fervor of Deepak Chopra at a book signing.
  • Scores of bull rushes to nearby laptops and logins (ala those Southwest “ding” commercials) once ESPN News posts a blurb that Darren McFadden has a stinger, and so WE ALL have to get on the Justin Fargas train!! [insert Huggy Bear reference here].
  • The de-evolution of Fantasy League Commissioners (and I ran 2 of the 4 leagues I was in myself) into some hate-spewing control freak, reminding managers twice a week to pay their league fee and regurgitating the rules that are clearly posted.

I know there’s a bunch more FF Funk symptoms and irrational behavior, I just don’t have to time to list them since being free.

Time to refocus priorities

Time to refocus priorities

But there are a few good things that come out of the FF Funk, and that’s if you win your league, you get some straight cash homey. Or in my case, you have to explain to your wife (because Sundays are all booked up), the nuances and rules of football, because she wants to “relate”. This had a great effect though, because of our added “together time” on Sundays, she’s allowed me 20 extra minutes a week of surfing hot sites like this one. But that’s another story.

So we delete those Fantasy bookmarks, wave goodbye to NFL injury lists, say adios to pass defendeds and auf wiedersehen to 3rd string “sleeper” backs. And as we hear the kids sing carols, smell the evergreen wreaths, and wrap the fruitcake for the in-laws, we get back to what’s really important … betting on Bowl Games.

It’s good to have my life back. Peace out FF Funk.

Happy holidays!

December 23, 2008 Posted by | Fantasy Football, NFL | , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Monday Morning Bullets

Yet another sports weekend has come, gone, and receded into distant memory.  From the BCS to the Pros to the ring, last weekend was action packed.  Let’s roll.

  • Florida and Tim Tebow rolled on the ‘Bama Tide, riding the wave all the way into the BCS Championship.  Question.  Is Tim Tebow back in the top 2-3 in Heisman consideration?
  • Sam Bradford, with his slightly mongoloid looks, and the Sooners treated the Mizzou Tigers like hunters intent on migrating the Tigers from the endangered species list to the extinct list.
  • In a battle of the Sooners and the Gators who wins?  This will not be a defensive game reminiscient of the USC-Texas game a few years back.  Bet the over and look for the Gators to outlast the Sooners.
  • All other bowls were announced and in the effort of not boring you to death please allow Ye Olde FlyMaster break down the rotating door of corporate sponsors.
    • Chik-Fil-A still sponsors a bowl.  The chicken business is still good.
    • Bell Helicopter sponsors the Armed Forces bowl.  What the hell is Bell Helicopter?
      Bell Helicopter Bowl?

      Bell Helicopter Bowl?

    • Roady’s now sponsors the Humanitarian Bowl.  What the hell is Roady’s?  Is it like Carrow’s or Applebees or is it a myspace for guitar techs, sound guys, and cocaine dealers?
    • Gaylord Hotels sponsors the Music City Bowl.  FlyMaster is all about social equality and justice, but staying at a Gaylord Hotel could be dicey.  Word on the street is the halftime show is an “extravaganza of fabulous proportions.”  Good luck Nashville.
    • Eagle Bank sponsors a Bowl.  Wait, didn’t all banks fail?  Why is a small bank sponsoring a Bowl game?  Sponsor my mortgage fool!
  • Can we drop all this non-BCS school controversy.  Boise State can moan louder than James Caan in Misery (post hobbling), but the fact of the matter is Utah had a great season and earned the ability to get boat-raced by Alabama in the annual “Small School Gets Owned by a Disgruntled Powerhouse Bowl.”  Shut up and schedule some big boy football schools during the season and then maybe we’ll entertain your little brother complex.
  • The Plaxidental shooting shook the Giants this weekend.  The Eagles came to play and ran the division leaders easily.  The Giants won’t be shaken for long, but they looked pedestrian against Donovan McNabb and Brian Westbrook.
  • Hold the presses…the Arizona Cardinals won their division and will host their first playoff game since 1947.  1947?  Here are some 1947 fun facts.
    • Truman was President and the buck stopped there.
    • People were sexing it up at an all-time high.  Hence the baby boom.
    • Gas was free and houses could be bought with a bail of hay and three domesticated animals.
    • The internet was the lining on the inside of a pair of burlap swimtrunks.
    • Zoot suits and pressing one’s hair was considered cool.
    • Television was the work of the devil.

  • Back to the Cardinals.  Looking at all potential NFC playoff teams, the Cardinals could do quite well because there’s only one cold weather team in the race, the Giants.  That levels the playing field for the desert birds.  Look for the Cardinals to swoop into the NFC Championship game.  Did the FlyMaster really just say that?

  • The world is crumbling.The Cowboys snatched defeat from the clutches of victory as Tony Romo gave the Steelers a go ahead TD late in the fourth.  With that said, the Cowboys are still clinging on to the last playoff spot.

  • Speaking of the Steelers…it’s time to put them on the list of all-time great defenses.  These guys are aggressive, precise, and play like a cohesive unit.  The Steelers are the favorite in the AFC.  Plus, they have Hines Ward, the toughest guy with the whitest teeth.
  • The Titans keep rolling, but they look like the most suspect one loss team ever.
  • The Jets lost again, and now there’s a three way tie for the AFC East between the Bretts, the Former Brady’s, and the Parcells.  Guaranteed…Grumpy ass Belichick and crew will win the division.
  • The Detroit Lions are 0-13.  What an accomplishment?  That’s like missing every question on an elementary school spelling test.  That’s better than being the one guy at a desperate fat chick convention and not scoring a fling.  No…it’s better than that.  It’s like showing up to the desperate fat chick convention wearing a suit made of cake and ice cream, and still not sealing the deal.  There’s no truth to the rumors that the Detroit Lions will be conducting seminars on professional excellence at Notre Dame and in Ann Arbor.
  • Does anyone want to win the AFC West? Sure the Broncos are comfortably ahead and will make the playoffs, but is any other team concerned about them?  Doubt it.
  • Give Mike Singletary the 49ers job permanently.  The niners played like a Super Bowl team and that just shows they’re taking on Singletary’s personality.
  • On to the major fight between Manny Pacquiao and Oscar De La Hoya.  Pac Man destroyed the bigger, slower De La Hoya in historic fashion.  Speed nutralized size.  Heart and intent conquered experience and legacy.  De La Hoya was done from the opening bell.  Not answering the bell for the ninth was completely unacceptable.  You’re a legend.  Man up and go out on your shield.  As a longtime Golden Boy fan, it was rough to see him turn into Gold Dust, but Manny Pacquiao can’t be denied.  Forget the fight with Hatton, bring back Floyd Gayweather Jr. so he can try and escape the Filipino Phenom.
  • Lastly, please allow the FlyMaster to pay homage to Greg Maddux, who will announce his retirement this week.  In an era of power pitchers, Maddux’s control, mastery, and grittiness made him the poster child for baseball intellectualism (otherwise an oxymoron).  With Clemens sullying his name, it can be argued that Maddux is the greatest righty in the modern era.  Farewell!

FlyMaster Signing Off…For Now!

December 8, 2008 Posted by | Boxing, College Football, Features & Opinions, General, NFL, Talkin Trash | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Commitment to Excrement

Once upon a time in a NFL galaxy far far away the colors silver and black intimidated foes and inspired fans to don ridiculous costumes.  The times were good.  A nation of alcohol and qualude fueled miscreants followed their fearless, oil-slick haired, rogue leader and his soldiers into every Sunday.  After the battles on the field concluded, the battles in the stands and in the parking lots ensued.  Jail time for disorderly conduct was an express route to the Purple Heart in Raider Nation.  Drug bust for methamphetamine…even better.  The propaganda machine was strong.  Terms like “Winningest Franchise in Sports” and “Commitment to Excellence” trumpeted from the minaret to minaret from Oakland to Los Angeles.  Three Super Bowl titles in seven years.  A rollicking band of scurilous gridiron marauders filled to the gills with steroids, syphillis, and an utter disdain for the rest of the league were always a threat to hoist the Super Bowl Trophy.  The accomplishments of Raider Nation read like a mythical list of heroic feats that would humble Hercules, bring Odysseus to his knees, and would cause even the mighty Zeus to tremble like a newborn.

Who invented democracy?  The Raiders did.

Who discovered electricity?  The Raiders did.

Who freed the slaves?  The Raiders did.

Who stormed the beaches at Normandy?  The Raiders did.

Who unlocked the mysteries of DNA and the Human Genome while simultaneously inventing the internet, the Brazilian wax, and the stylized mullet?  That’s right…The Raiders did.

We’ve all heard the stories and we’ll pass them on to the youngsters when they’re of age.  In the meantime we must confront the demons of our present with the same resilience used by the ancient Raiders in the dark times when freedom was at stake and the 1977 playoffs came down to an overtime catch by Lord Dave Casper.

On Thursday December 4, 2008 the San Diego Chargers defiled Raider Nation for the 10th consecutive time.   No respect, no vaseline, not even a peck on the cheek.  The powder blue-wearing, surfer jerk, bi-curious San Diegans grinned as the Raiders cowered on the field.  The effort on the field only reflected the turmoil in the Nation.  From the top down and from the bottom up, the Nation has fallen to its knees, its mouth sore from fellating the mascot of every other team in it’s division for the past six years.  Mind you, the Denver Broncos mascot is a horse, so you’d see why oral soreness is a problem.

The once fearless, rogue leader who thumbed his nose at the mighty Pete Rozelle, who told Oakland “F You I’m going to LA,” and then told  LA “F you I’m going to Oakland,” has devolved into a living carcass encased in one-piece pantsuits, still believing his finger is on the pulse, the very lifeblood, of football’s ethos.  Subsisting on a diet of shrimp, white wine, metamucil, and anger, the great emperor has lost his way.  Sitting in the Great Hall of Raiderdom, lonesome and deranged, Emperor Davis commands his peons to do his woefully inept bidding, each move sending Raider Nation into further decline.  His peons, none of whom have the intestinal fortitude to say “enough is enough,” watch and bask in hedonistic selfishness as the modern day Nero fiddles while his Rome burns.  The time has come for a hero. 

Is there not one hero left in the Raider Nation who can muster the soldiers, inspire the people, and challenge the Overlord for his position?  Technically, no.  The emperor owns 51% of the Nation.  To hell with technicalities.  Technicalities are good for resolving Dungeons and Dragons disputes, and defining one’s sexuality.  We need a hero.  Actually we need an entire battalion of heroes armed with new soldiers, a playbook from this century, revised marketing schemes, improved customer relations, a better stadium, some sort of parking discount policy, and the promise of more than 9 wins per year.  Basically, the Nation needs everything except upgrades in color scheme and cheerleaders.

The impossible is not what we ask.  We stand at the precipice of death and life.  The tenuous crossroads where futility and senility meet prosperity and vitality.  Staying on the current path will only lead to further mockery, denigration, and increased jaw soreness.  Down the other path lies the unknown.  But, did not the Autumn Wind blow our ancestors down the path towards excellence when our dear fallen leader was young and his chi was resolute?  The answers lie within us, oh mighty Raider Nation.  Do not let us plummet into the chasm of Cincinatti Bengaldom.  Stand strong against the temptation to resign ourselves to the timeless mediocrity of the Detroit Lions, the Arizona Cardinals, the Atlanta Falcons, and the Seattle Seahawks.  No, let us rejoin our brothers from the classic age.  The Steelers, the Cowboys, and the Giants all would still welcome us at the table of champions if we could purge ourselves of the leprosy that infects our very souls.  There is light.  And in this light, the colors of silver and black warm us as our own sun warms this planet upon which we dwell.  Fear not, the Autum Wind is a Raider pillaging just for fun.  We’ll knock you ’round and upside down, and laugh when we’ve conquered and won.

FlyMaster Signing Off…For Now!

December 5, 2008 Posted by | Features & Opinions, NFL, Talkin Trash | , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment