I hope Tashard was getting this for his side piece or maybe his doorman or someone equally important, ‘cause it’s flat embarrassing to get caught by the NBC cameras literally waiting patiently for his majesty Michael Vick to grant you and audience so you can beg for his autograph about 71 seconds after he torched your defensive teammates for 270 and 3 scores on national television.
Somewhere, Dick Butkus just shot out his TV, Elvis-style.
Full disclosure: I was removed from my final high school football game for laughing on the sideline when we were getting blown out by our hated crosstown rivals. It was completely benign and to this day the kid who made me laugh never fails to apologize whenever we run into each other, but I am guilty of the same infraction (albeit 23 years previous) as Derek Anderson was in last night’s Cardinals loss to the 49ers.
More disclosure: That same coach kicked me off both the freshman and sophomore wrestling teams and would have failed me in Health class (for god’s sake) for insubordination (I’m sure you find that hard to believe) if not for the intervention of a basketball coach (and great man) I never even played for.
Now, with regard to the above video…the question remains…is it more inappropriate to be caught chuckling on the sideline with a trusted teammate during a relatively embarrassing loss, or actively search out a member of the team who just beat your sorry ass for a post-game embrace of Brokebackian proportions?
Huh? I miss the days when rivals were rivals for crissake. Not this namby-pamby let’s hope everybody does good too crap which has oozed its way into our collective public conversation. You think when Ronnie Lott was at USC he wished John Elway at Stanford well? Hell no. He called him a horse faced little girl on Friday and then tried to make sure he never had kids on Saturday. The good old days…you know…when you hid a little screwdriver in your giant beige ‘J Pad’ just in case somethin’ went down out there and you needed to deal some payback on one of those stuck up eighth grade bastards from LaGrange. That was football. I don’t know what this stuff is anymore. Fluffball.
You aren’t allowed to lead with your head in more ways than one.
I doubt this scene does anything to alter the perception of Wrigley Field as “The World’s Biggest Sports Bar” and considering the amateurish bungling of this event by Cubs ownership, one tends to believe that pesky “loveable losers” tag isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
I included Donald’s earlier Wrigley Field work below so you can see that, while he’s no Justin Bieber, he’s generally not quite as horrible as he was on Saturday. Luckily for him, ESPNU cut off the first, and I’m told pretty awkward, part of the effort.
I’m not insinuating Donald was pickled during the song…I’m just hoping he was.
