When a football team becomes a train wreck, much like the New York Giants have become, sometimes the concept of “team” starts to show cracks. As we have been prone to do in this series, we find those cracks and expose them to you, the blog-reading public.
It seems that just such a crack has surfaced with the New York Giants. for quite a while, there have been rumors that Eli Manning may not be the most disciplined quarterback out there, and that may be a problem for Nazi-wannabe Tom Coughlin. We here at Sports Blog Movement intercepted* a conversation between these two that may bear out Eli’s lackadaisical nature.
*Legal Disclaimer – J-Dub and Meehan have a strange way of defining certain terms. “Intercepted” should be read as “completely fucking fabricated” by these two jamokes during yet another of their nights spent snorting Pixie Sticks and D-Con until 6 a.m. Despite that, we here at Sports Blog Movement would be willing to bet these guys probably aren’t far from the truth…
TC: How are you feeling today? You OK? (taps on his old-school rotary-dial land-line phone) Hello?
EM: Sorry, I got this new app on my phone where I can stack blocks on top of farm animals. It’s hilarious. I’m on level 14 right now.
TC: What? Are you fucking kidding me?
EM: It’s fun. You should try it.
TC: Uh, you can fuck around with that shit later. Are you even aware how bad our situation is? If it weren’t for the Jacksonville Jaguars, we’d be the laughingstock of the National Football League right now.
EM: (laughs) The Jaguars. Weren’t they the team that had the coach who looked like a rocking chair? His face always looked like a turnip, and he was always beet red (laughs again).
TC: That was me, dickface. By the way, turnips and beets are different vegetables.
TC: Don’t “whatever” me, you little fuck! We’re at a crisis moment in our season! We haven’t won a goddamn game!
EM: Fuck that…I have a crisis too. “Farm Block Fortune” just froze up and I need to reboot my I-Pad.
TC: Are you fucking kidding me? We are 0-6 and you are worried about that shit?
EM: Dude, I had to re-do the zebra level and everything.
TC: Fuck the zebras! We need to talk about goddamn football for a minute!
EM: Sure, coach. Oh, fuck! Here comes the rabid chicken! Shit! OK, it’s gone. What did you want to talk about?
TC: Oh. for fuck’s sake! I just told you we need to talk about football. You remember football, don’t you? You know, the game you get paid millions of dollars to play? Or at least act like your playing? Our jobs are on the line here!
EM: YOLO, dude. We always have these rough stretches though but we always recover. Hell, we’ve won the World Cup two times in the past seven years. We just need to run the ball more. Ahmad will take care of that for us.
TC: What the fuck did you just say? The World Cup? You do realize that we released Ahmad Bradshaw this off season don’t you?
EM: For real? That’s harsh. Oh shit, the rabid chicken is back!
TC: (does a “facepalm”) Yeah, we did, you dumbass. Remember when we asked your opinion about it? We asked you if it would be a good idea to free up some cap space and pave the way for David Wilson to start doing his thing. You mumbled “Yeah, sure” while you were fucking around with some damn game.
EM: Yeah, I was probably playing “Candy Crush” That game was so February.
TC: Let me ask you something. Did you get your ears pierced recently?
EM: No. Why?
TC: Because you’re acting like an eleven year old girl. How about we focus on football for a second?
TC: Listen, asshole. We’ve got to get this thing turned around. What do I have to do to get you motivated again?
EM: Motivated? For what?
TC: Football, dipshit. Jesus, why do I have to repeat everything 15 times with your stupid ass?
EM: Dude, I’m Eli Manning. We’ll be okay…
TC: Well, dude, we aren’t so far. 0-6 isn’t exactly “we’ll be okay” territory
EM: Take a chill pill, old man.
TC: Don’t you fucking tell me what to do! I’m the coach.
EM: Yeah, well I’m not the one who is going to get his ass fired.
TC: No, you’re the one being a selfish prick while Kevin Gilbride and I dangle off the edge of a cliff.
EM: That reminds me. I have to add “Cliffhanger” to my Netflix queue. My wife wants to watch it this weekend.
TC: How about making room amongst your wife’s shitty taste in Sylvester Stallone movies to watch some fucking game film?
EM: We have the Vikings this week…We’ll win that one for sure.
TC: We’d better. At the rate we’re going now we couldn’t beat Alabama.
EM: Alabama is a college football team, we ever won’t have to play them
TC: It was supposed to be a sarcastic insult, you stupid fuck. The point is that right now we’re easily one of the worst teams in the league and a large part of that is you. What do you plan on doing here?
EM: Well, my wife was talking about possibly buying some island property at some point after I retire. And Dad wants me to start a charity golf tournament at some point with my brother and I, so I’m not sure just yet.
TC: I’ve got news for you, shithead. Nobody’s going to show up at that charity golf tournament if you can’t uncram your piehole out of your asscrack and start winning some football games. You have six or seven years left in the league, why are you worried about what’s going to happen when you retire?
EM: Hey, you have to plan ahead!!! You even said that yourself.
TC: I was talking about football – a gameplan for a football game, idiot. You know, since we’re in the business of football. I am a football coach, you are a quarterback, or at least you were before you started eating shit on the field and spending all of your free time stacking bricks on the backs of imaginary horses.
EM: They’re not bricks, they’re blocks. And the horse is very real.
TC: It would figure that’s all you took away from that paragraph. Did you at least name the horse after your brother?
EM: No, why?
TC: (does another “facepalm“) If you have to explain the joke….
EM: (interrupts) Oh, now I get it…because he’s played for the Colts and the Broncos (laughs)
TC: No. you idiot…it’s because he looks like a horse. Get it?
EM: Sweeeeeeeeeeet! Just got to level 17!
TC: God, I’m so fucked (hangs up)