I’m resigned to the fact that Brad Childress, who is to football coaching what Matchbox 20 is to rock and roll, will be coaching the Vikings in the 2007 season. Given that the Vikings will be quarterbacked by either A) Brooks Bollinger, B) Tarvaris Jackson, C) Jeff Garcia, or D) A crude robot Childress has created to resemble himself, complete with Frank Oz mustache, I’m betting they won’t be very good. In fact, they may be excruciatingly bad. And nothing is worse for a fan than being unable to regenerate excitement even during an offseason. Hope springing eternal, my ass.
But there is a faint glimpse of hope for myself and any other NFL fan whose team is destined to suck in the coming year (Hello, Cleveland!). I have found the man destined to become the next great coach in NFL history. His name is Bear Grylls, and he’s the host of Man vs. Wild on Discovery Channel.
Holy fuck, this man is a badass. Last Friday night, I took in a marathon of Man vs. Wild. Over the course of two hours, I saw Bear:
-Get dropped into the Moab desert
-Jump into canyons of that same desert
-Piss on his headdress to keep cool
-Eat a raw raven’s egg, WITH the shell (Bear says it has vital calcium. And if you think Bear is wrong, then you can fuck the fuck off.)
-Extricate fresh water from a mud pit
-Climb out of a canyon by placing one foot on either wall and hoisting himself up with his arms
-Get dropped into an Alaskan forest. Alaska, in case you did not know, is very large.
-Climb DOWN a vertical Arctic waterfall wearing only ski boot linings on his feet
-Quickly construct a shelter out of stick and fronds that was arguably stronger than any Montgomery County municipal building
-Rock a British accent and not sound gay
And he didn’t cry once. Good Lord, what a man. Grylls is a former British Special Forces agent. I bet he’s killed lots of people and is too dignified to even mention it. I bet he’s banged women while fighting off rhinos. I would totally do that if I were him. I bet he has a bearskin rug in front of his fireplace and tells chicks, “See that rug. I made it. I replace it with a fresh one every week. Let’s shag.” I bet he could kick Ufford’s ass. I’m putting a poster of him in my bedroom. Mrs. Drew can cram it if she doesn’t like it. I have two spouses now.
It takes a lot to name your occupation as “adventurer” and not come off as a complete douchebag. But this man pulls it off beautifully. Now, of course, Grylls knows nothing about American football. But I don’t really care about that. If the Vikings hired him, I could just stare at him on the sidelines all game and imagine all the cool shit he did. And that’s really all I need along with the scotch. And if a QB were to break a finger, I bet he could snap it back in place and then stitch the wound with a loose jersey thread. I’d pay to see that.
Plus, his name is Bear. Coaches named Bear are already 1-for-1 in the goodness department. And did Bear Bryant ever become the youngest Briton to climb Everest? Fuck and no. Dead old bastard.
Bear Grylls is such a badass, he doesn’t even need vowels in his last name. If the Vikings hired him, he could probably turn the Metrodome into some sort of elaborate kill zone, equipped with booby traps all over the field to fuck the other team up. Again, I’d pay to see that.
So let’s make that happen. Fuck Obama in ’08. I want some bear meat.
I want more like this!
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