Why the Hate, Bro?

Regardless of what anyone says, we all want to be loved. Liked at the very least. Regardless of what people will admit, it hurts when you’re not liked. It’s boot to the balls painful when you’re hated. Even as you’re curled up in the fetal position, hands between your legs, it doesn’t make sense. What did you do to deserve this? A fair question unless your name is Adolf Hitler.

The Waiting

Nothing to do now but wait for training camp to open five weeks from now. As Tom Petty noted, it’s the hardest part.

A Dog Ate My Playbook

Why it's crazy to think Bill Belichick would need to steal the Jets' playbook...

Big ups to Cleveland HC Mike Pettine for giving me a reason to once again relive the best Thanksgiving ever.

Dear Mr. Fantasy

It’s all good news, seemingly. There are still question marks, sure. Gronk, Dobson, Easley. But there are others more ambulatory in their recovery. Mayo, Vollmer and Wilfork all seem to be on or above plan. I’m feeling good about this thing.

His Name is Champ

Word.

Greater Expectations

Wishful thinking has become anticipation. I’m trying to manage my expectations, really I am, but then I ask myself: Why bother?

I Decline

It’s entropy baby. It’s an immutable law of science. You can’t control it and you can’t even hope to contain it. There comes a point in the journey where it’s all downhill and it isn’t always a gentle decline; sometimes it’s downright precipitous.

Vacationing On Revis Island

What must it be like for Tom Brady and Darrelle Revis at practice every day? They’re like pigskin ninja masters jousting a best of 7 match. They’re like Wiley Coyote and Sam Sheepdog (if Wiley Coyote actually won on occasion) punching in to battle it out for all they’re worth until the whistle blows and they’re off the clock again. They push each other. Sam makes Wiley wilier; Wiley makes Sam study more film.