Happy Birthday, Deflategate

Roger Goodell's deformed baby, more commonly known as Deflategate, is one-year old today. Happy Birthday!

 

You know what I think bothers me the most?

It isn't the haters. You want to believe Tom Brady's entire career has been a sham, that the 4th quarter of Super Bowl XLIX never happened, that every win, every record should have an asterisk, then I feel badly for you and your tiny, tiny penis.

It isn't the obvious screw job by the NFL and Goodell, the $1,000,000 fine or the loss of draft picks. Kraft can afford it and Belichick will make the moves he needs to make on draft day.

It isn't the lack of transparency in the League's gathering and hiding the random PSI measurements (though it's clear that if those numbers could be used to convict Brady and the Patriots we'd know about them by now).

It isn't even the tacit admission the NFL got it wrong with the Patriots when they swapped the footballs at halftime of the Seahawks-Vikings game in sub-zero temps because they were afraid the air pressure in game balls used in the first half would drop below 12.5 PSI.

Well below. Like actually 2.0 PSI below.

No, it isn't any of that.

It's the condescension of the national pigskin pundits and bobbleheads towards Patriots' fans.

For some reason, we're not entitled to our righteous indignation.

And it is righteous.

Patriots fans will probably hate me for saying this… Pats fans will probably kill me in the comments… Come on, your team would do anything to win; why don't you just admit it?

First of all, your ego is showing. I hope you won't hate me for saying this but my world doesn't revolve around your sun.

No wait; first of all, fuck you. You don't know me. Don't for a moment presume to think you understand what I'm thinking.

Second of all, from the moment any one of you said something along the lines of "I wouldn't wipe my ass with the Wells Report but I still believe Brady did something," we all stopped caring about your opinion, man. You stopped being a journalist. You were no longer trading in facts. You became pornographers, trading gifs of poorly lit hand jobs for page clicks.

Did I say, fuck you?

I did, didn't I? Well, fuck you again, sir. Fuck you.

If you were thinking of apologizing for doubting Tom Brady, for believing paid assassins instead, for ignoring the hard evidence of science and settling for innuendo instead; save it.

No, shove it. Sideways.

And stop saying we probably hate you in some passive-aggressive attempt to justify your edgy, "hot take" on the Patriots and Patriots' fans. Get the hell off our bandwagon and get busy with your stories about The Sheriff riding off into the sunset. We know what want, what you really, really want.

Oh, and fuck you.