Under-Qualified: Careers in NFL Broadcasting

Well it's Sunday again, and like most heterosexual American males I will be watching the greatest sport in the history of the universe (next to mud-wrestling, of course):

"OMG I swallowed a fart!"

"PAYNUS!"

Oh, and that sexy thing some women can do with a ping-pong ball (if you consider that a sport).  Yes, once again it's time for NFL Football.  For badasses like The Bearded One, who love the sport with every fiber of their being, it's kind of like having a holiday twice a week from September until well into February.  


That's only counting Sundays and Monday Night Football, because let's face it, Thursday Night Football has been a goddamn trainwreck lately. 


And if you're anything like me, your year takes a turn for the worse in late February, when the realization sets-in that you're about to run the dreaded gauntlet of spring and summer, with nothing to really look forward to but lots of hard work, hot weather, and motherfucking baseball (the female equivalent of "physical sports").


My Sunday ritual is pretty much always the same:  I wake up around 9:30, possibly hungover, and deal with the punishing guilt that I should be getting ready for church.  To alleviate this guilt, I'll often strike my children, or throw empty bottles at them, and then I'm back in business in no time. 


My first stop on the dial is ESPN for some pregame entertainment.  And every Sunday I suffer the same realization:


Keyshawn Johnson is still employed.

"I fuck ah' white gurl in dey butt!"

Every Sunday and Monday I get to hear this under-qualified jackass critique true athletes and coaches, while the talent around him ignores the fact that he is as out of his element as a (insert a generic metaphor here; then laugh).


But it doesn't just stop with ESPN and their Keyshawn Johnson infestation.  It seems like the standards in NFL broadcasting have sunk to all-new lows recently.  

At one time it was required that you have at least one of two things going for you before they let you on television to tell other people what they were doing wrong in the NFL:

1.  Prior experience in sports journalism

                  

2.  You were not just an athlete at some point, but you were a talented and successful one

By having one of those two qualifications, you could legitimately tutor and analyze other people in the league, and the people sitting at home watching would think, "maybe he's onto something" instead of, "who's that fucking retard?"  

That way, your words actually fucking meant something.



Now the only requirement appears to be that at one time or another, an NFL team cut you a paycheck for wearing their uniform.




KEYSHAWN JOHNSON (ESPN)


I can't honestly sit here and tell you that Fucktard Johnson is the worst of the lot, but he's the first one that comes to mind since it's Sunday morning and I'm watching ESPN because the vastly superior in every way Fox pregame show hasn't started yet.  (Terry, Howie & Jimmy:  have my baby)


In 10 years' time, Keyshawn played on 4 different teams.  Namely because he was a pain in the fucking ass and no one could stand him.  Basically he was "that guy you know who doesn't have any friends, and feels sorry for himself because of it, and you kinda feel bad about it too so you give him a chance as a friend and he fucks you over royally, and then you understand why the motherfucker didn't have any friends to begin with".


This asshole wrote a book about his experiences as a rookie in the NFL titled, "Just Give Me the Damn Ball".  

"Just gimme ah' damn ghost writer!"

Huh?


No, I had no fucking clue of that either until I started doing research for this here rant.


Keyshawn got lucky with his second team (the Bucs) because they got lucky that same year when Jon Gruden won a Super Bowl with Tony Dungy's team.  I'm no fan of Dungy...but that's simply the reality of it, folks.


The following season though, Gruden de-activated his ass for the last 7 games because the bastard was so fucking intolerable. 


After that came a short stint in Dallas under Bill Parcells (who for some goddamn reason thought he could put a leash on this baboon), and he ended his short and pathetic career in Carolina.  

Actually, "ended" wouldn't be the correct word.  He was "released" (once again) by Carolina, humorously enough, after he recommended they draft a younger receiver to be his understudy.  Keyshawn wanted a Jedi Padawan, essentially.

And they did just that.


And then they cut Keyshawn's ass.








MATT MILLEN (NFL NETWORK)



Oh wow.  Really?


Really?

"Really."

Alright look...I love the 49ers.  Always have.  Probably always will.  And yes, I realize that this fat fuck was on the "Joe Montana 49ers" when they donkey-stomped the Denver Broncos in Super Bowl XXIV. 

"Thanks, Bearded One!"

But that does not, in any way excuse the fact that he was the General Manager of the 2008 Detroit Lions when they went 0-16. 


For any of you who might be female or homosexual, the "0" stands for "zero wins", and the "16" stands for how many times they lost.  Essentially, they lost every single game they played when Matt fucking Millen was their GM that season.