Breaking Down a Typical Jay Mariotti Column* About Rex Grossman
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My wife and I went to the game last night. Evidently, Jay Mariotti did not.
The recap of our experience at Soldier Field intermixed with Mariotti's Sunday trouncing of Rex Grossman (FYI - The Chicago Bears handily won.)
Paragraph#1: Blah, blah, blah. I hate Rex Grossman. Blah, blah, blah. I, Mariotti, love having footballs shoved up my derriere. Blah, blah, blah.
We're off the game, or so I thought. My wife surprises me with a wrapped box. It's curiously opened and contains a #55 BRIGGS jersey. And it is the ORANGE version.
Wife: "Look, it has your name on it! What were the odds of that?
Me: "Huh." (deciding to choose words carefully)
Wife: "I thought it would look a lot nicer than that old rag you always wear."
Me: "Huh" (looking down at my CLASSIC #50 SINGLETARY)
Wife: "You're gonna wear the one I got you to the game, you do like it right?” (eyes starting to look hurt)
Me: "Yeah, its great. Let's get goin' (Memo to self: Hide old jersey before wife throws it into the garbage.)
Paragraph#2. Blah, blah, blah. Rex Grossman doesn't deserve to have any self-confidence. Blah, blah, blah. Going to the Super Bowl is not as grandeur as winning a Lisagor. Blah, blah, blah.
It is a friggin' madhouse. Traffic sucks and we are late. I'm getting steamed 'cause I hate to miss anything. We finally get to our seats in Section 303. Not a bad view. I can now relax. Or so I thought. And then it happened. Connor spoke.
Paragraph#3. Blah, blah, blah. Halas Hall is backing a stupid quarterback that is a mental midget. Blah, blah, blah. Boy, I sure can write* long paragraphs when it comes to ripping the shit out of Rex Grossman. Blah, blah, blah. I looked up Grossman's statistics from last season on Wikipedia! Blah, blah, blah. I should delete that line about Grossman making it to the Super Bowl. Blah, blah, blah. There that looks much better. Blah, blah, blah.
Connor is an awkward looking white pimple faced 17 year old kid sitting directly behind us. He is with his little brother, Ricky (guessing around 12 year old), grandma and his bullhorn voice of a grandfather.
Ricky: "Oh my God, is that really Lance Briggs seating in front of us?"
Connor: "Uhh, yeah man, I don't think that is the real Briggs."
Ricky: "Oh, okay. I gotta go to the bathroom." (gets up and leaves)
Bullhorn Grandpa: "Hey Connor, you don't really think they would let a GUY LIKE THAT sit here with US?
Me: (turns around and nearly gives Connor a heart attack) “Where are you all from?”
Connor: "Barrington, why?"
Nails from my wife enter into my forearm.
Paragraph#4: Blah, blah, blah. Rex Grossman doesn't understand how to prepare for a meaningless exhibition game. Blah, blah, blah.
Ricky returns from the bathroom.
Grandpa: "Hey Connor, that Bears quarterback sure does suck, don't he Connor?”
Connor: "Yeah, Griese is better."
Grandpa: "Hey Connor, why the hell doesn't Lovie Smith play Griese instead of this bum? Boy, I cannot wait until Brett Favre and the Packers beat up the Bears. That'll show the Bears how football is really supposed to be played!
Connor: "Grandpa, I once practiced football with my High School team!"
Grandpa: “Attaboy Connor!”
Wisely, my wife buys me a hot dog and a beer. It helps.
Oh yeah, Ricky gets up to the go the bathroom again.
Paragraph#5: Blah, blah, blah. Unreferenced Rex Grossman quote attempting to make the QB appear to whine about the weather during the Super Bowl. Blah, blah, blah. Why am I fooling nobody? Blah, blah, blah. I love Miami weather. Blah, blah, blah. Anyone seen Paco lately? Blah, blah, blah.
Ricky returns only to get up once again and hit the john.
Touchdown Bears. Grossman to Berrian. The place goes nuts. BEAR DOWN! BEAR DOWN!
Grandpa: "Hey Connor, how much do these guys on the sidelines make? They don’t do nuttin’!”
Connor: “They all make a million each. No matter what.”
Grandpa: “Jesus H. Chr(blank), half a million to do absolutely nothing?”
Connor: “No, they make a million. Each.”
Ricky announces that he is thirsty and wants to buy a Coke. Evidently, taking multiple pisses is thirsty work for a 12 year old.
Paragraph#6: Blah, blah, blah. The Bears are fooling nobody about Rex Grossman. Blah, blah, blah. I am exposing the greatest conspiracy of all-time to the Chicago public. Blah, blah, blah. I am now sure to win the Ligasor once again! Blah, blah, blah.
Grandpa: “Hey Connor, these Bears suck!”
Connor: “But they are winning, Grandpa.”
Grandpa: “Hey Connor, maybe we should get tickets for the Green Bay game? Brett Favre and the Packers are gonna kill’em!
Connor: “Yeah, Favre’s the best.”
Grandpa: “Hell, he’s better than this Grossman guy.”
Bears score another touchdown.
Ricky returns with his Coke, only to spill the damn thing all over him. He runs back to the bathroom.
My wife to me: “What are you writing?”
Me: “Just something for later.”
Wife: “(Blank) you and that stupid Jay the Joke blog!”
Paragraph#7: Blah, blah, blah. Did you know that I hate Rex Grossman? Blah, blah, blah. Rex the Hex is a crybaby. Blah, blah, blah. The Chicago Bears have never had a decent quarterback. Blah, blah, blah. I speak for everyone. Blah, blah, blah. I am Chicago’s savior! Blah, blah, blah.
An usher taps my wife on the shoulder and inquires about a “dead bird” that was reported in our section.
Wife: “Gross!”
Grandpa: “Hey Connor, did ya’ see a dead bird ‘round here?”
Connor: “No.”
Ricky begins to cry.
Paragraph#8: Blah, blah, blah. I read the Sporting News. Blah, blah, blah. Rex is a wuss for complaining about his quarterback coach. Blah, blah, blah. I hate Rex Grossman. Blah, blah, blah.
Rex gets intercepted and the Niners score a cheap touchdown. The entire stadium groans.
Grandpa: “Hahahahaha, Hey Connor, this Grossman guy sure does suck bad!”
Connor: “Griese’s comin’ in soon.”
Grandpa: “Hey Connor, he better or the Bears are gonna lose! This Lovie Smith is a complete jackass for a headcoach!”
Connor: “He’s not that bad.”
Grandpa: “Hey Connor, that’s what you get for not hiring a REAL headcoach!”
Wife: “Wannna another beer?”
Me: “Yeah, better get another one.”
Paragraph#9: Blah, blah, blah. I am so damn cool exposing Grossman as a worthless hack! Blah, blah, blah. Chicago is gonna luv me! Blah, blah, blah.
Half-Time: An inner league football program is promoted by having the kids on the field play a little football.
Grandpa: “Hey Connor, why are all the kids out there black?”
Me: (turns around and gives a hard long stare)
Grandpa: “Hey Connor, wanna go get some hotdogs?”
Connor: “Sure.”
Ricky: “I gotta go to the bathroom.”
Wife to me: “Behave….”
Paragraph#10: Blah, blah, blah. It doesn’t matter who coaches the quarterbacks because I hate Rex Grossman. Blah, blah, blah. Let’s all remember the Colts game and those fumbles. Blah, blah, blah. Delete the fact that the Bears won that game as well. Blah, blah. Blah.
Grandpa: “Hey Connor, is that Griese out there?”
Connor: “Yes Grandpa!”
Grandpa: “About time a real quarterback showed up. So he really gets to make half a million just standing around?”
Connor: “Actually it is a million. They all get that. It’s the law.”
Grandpa: “Hey Connor, you sure know a lot about pro football!”
Connor: (beams with pride).
Ricky returns from the bathroom. He is soaked head to toe. A faint smell of urine begins to become noticeable.
Paragraph#11: Blah, blah, blah. Unreferenced quote from Grossman about preseason. Blah, blah, blah. Boy, am I making Bad Rex look like an idiot! Blah, blah, blah. Couch is gonna luv this column*! Blah, blah, blah.
Grandma: “What kind of name is Griese?”
Grandpa: “Hey Connor, where is Griese from?”
Connor: “He’s from right here, Grandpa. He’s an American!”
Grandpa to Grandma: “I think he’s Polish or something. Maybe Jewish?”
Wife: (begins to snicker…)
Paragraph#12: Blah, blah, blah. I hate it when the Bears protect their players. Blah, blah, blah. Who do they think they are, the Sun-Times? Blah, blah, blah. I hate Rex Grossman. Blah, blah, blah.
Grandpa: “Hey Connor, Griese kinda sucks also.”
Connor: “Yeah, he kind of does. But don’t worry, pretty soon Orton’s coming in.”
'Ricky: “I’m bored. Can we go home?”
Me: “Yes! Please do.”
Paragraph#13: Blah, blah, blah. I hate Olin Kreutz for backing Rex Grossman. Blah, blah, blah. Kreutz belongs in jail for firing that gun. Blah, blah, blah. Did I mention Tank Johnson yet? Blah, blah, blah.
Grandpa: “Hey Connor, when the hell does this game end?”
Connor: “Pretty soon, Grandpa.”
Ricky: “I have to go to the bathroom. Can we just go?”
Grandpa: “Hey Connor, I’m bored as hell. Let’s go, okay?”
Connor: (looking sad) “Alright Grandpa.”
They all get up and leave. A few remaining fans in the section begin to clap.
Me: (now grinning)
Paragraph#14: Blah, blah, blah. I hate Ogunleye. Blah, blah, blah. Why won’t none of these Bears bash Rex like I do? Blah, blah, blah. Being a quarterback for the Bears is nowhere near as hard as being its top sports columnist*! Blah, blah, blah.
Grandpa: (returns) “Hey anyone here seen my grandson Ricky’s backpack?”
Ignored.
Grandpa: “Anyone?”
Ricky: “It was under my chair. Got it.”
They leave. For good.
I check the game clock. 2 minute warning in the 4 th quarter.
Me to myself: “Godamm*t it…”[/i]
Paragraph#15: “Blah, blah, blah. Anyone watch ‘The Bronx is Burning’? Blah, blah, blah. ESPN lied about a cameo. Blah, blah, blah. Chicago is hell because Grossman is the quarterback! Blah, blah, blah.
Some guy a few rows up: “Who the (censor) wears an orange BRIGGS jersey?”
Wife: “Did somebody say something?”
Me: “Uhh, no. Don’t worry about it.”
Paragraph#16: Blah, blah, blah. Grossman needs to move to Boise. Blah, blah, blah. Where did I read before? Blah, blah, blah.
F*!@# you Connor and your dumba$$ Grandpa for ruining the game.
Fire Jay Mariotti!
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