CLEVELAND -- The Cleveland Browns' first-round draft pick Johnny Manziel has some explaining to do. Despite multiple warnings from his coaches, Manziel just can't stay out of hot water, whether he's flipping off the Redskins bench or dry-humping models on his Instagram account.
Frankly, I can't wait for this out-of-control drunken twerp to get what is coming to him. Buddy, if my father caught me doing any of that crap, I'd be baling hay all day. What is happening with Manziel is evident of an entire generation who expects to succeed without doing any work.
I ... I was so young once. Don't you remember, Mark? The weekends with your buddies on the lake, drinking beers in the sun, the girls. I met her there. We got wasted on Poon Boy's shitty boat and she was the most beautiful thing I ever set my eyes on. I met her there ... I was just a boy ...
The Browns just released another generic statement to the media regarding the inappropriateness of Manziel's behavior, promising to follow up. It was the same sentiment spoken a month or so ago, after Manziel leaked his 'All-Stars of Fingerbanging' mixtape to a prominent pornographic website, and then when he was questioned on it, "Johnny Football" smiled impishly, struck the Heisman pose, and mumbled something about lime-a-ritas.
I stare into the mirror. My face is gray, old. I hardly recognize myself anymore. Is this what it is like to feel your sense of self slipping away? My wife ... she is not the same. We hardly look at each other anymore. I remember first seeing her on spring break ... I didn't know. I didn't know any better. I was just a kid. The sheriff found us in the back of the Dipster's old van and chased us across the county line with a broom.
Anyone else tired of this young man's prototypical bravado and can't-do-wrong attitude? With the elite talent he has, Manziel could easily blossom into one of the league's foremost superstars and even have a Hall of Fame career. But all we've seen so far is a spoiled brat who is squandering the potential God gave him by drinking long into the night and cavorting around town with rappers and charlatans.
I'm staring at old pictures. I believe my wife is awake as I sit on the edge of the bed, simply pretending to sleep. The sepia photographs of me and the boys getting wild, listening to Alan Jackson, we thought those nights would never end. Stop. Those days are over. But Johnny Manziel ... it's all coming back. Oh God, what have I become.
Simply put, if I had his physical gifts, I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
Joey Turds had a heart attack last week. Rick the Stick lives in Florida and is hooked up to an air tank. Shitty Mike became a born again Christian. I thought I got my dream. They all told me congratulations on my dream job. I got to write about sports all day. I look at my wife. We used to be so happy. I have dreams where we both lie in bed until we turn to dust.
America has always rooted for the hard worker over the naturally gifted. Especially in a working-class town like Cleveland, it is inevitable that public opinion will slowly sway towards the complete condemning of Johnny Manziel. If he was placed into my care, you better believe the second I saw him looking at a single titty I would drag his butt out of bed at five o'clock and make him run wind sprints until he pukes up all the mojitos.
Sometimes when I lay in bed the night is so still that I feel every part of my body ache that has been ravaged by time and I want to scream directly into the face of Johnny Manziel and every young man in the world until somehow I am them and I am back trolling ass on the lake with Boner Jim and the Mushroom Tip boys and the scream never comes out because I hear my wife breathing next to me and I remember the prison of the present that contains me and instead I mutter 'Manziel' like Welles says Rosebud in Citizen Kane and right before I finally fall asleep I pray to God that I do not dream tonight.
I say come on Cleveland, let's lasso up Manziel once and for all and get him ready for Football season!
Thanks to Palpek for the photo illustrations!
I'm haunted by a recurring vision of a skeleton flipping me off. To avoid seeing this terrifying image in bumper sticker form, I pay someone with a blank bumper to drive in front of me at all times.
Cons: causes bad nightmares. I used to have to eat beef until I passed out to have these kind of terrors, but this machine does it for me every time I fall asleep inside it.
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.