If you find yourself confronted with an NFL postseason without a rooting interest and unmoved by Don Cheadle soliloquies, you must draw from the well of that most powerful of human emotions. Ok, well, lust probably won’t do here. But the second most powerful, hate, will serve as a fine proxy. This is one in a series of posts filled with bile, spleen, vitriol and all-around nastiness toward all the teams involved with the sordid roundelay we know as the NFL Playoffs.

Vince Young: You know, it’s been hard for me to come to grips with it, but I’m happy for what you’ve done with this team. I’m a competitive dude and I’d love to be out there on that field with a chance to shine on the big stage. But the time was right for you, man. I give you a lot of credit sticking around as long as you have.

Kerry Collins:

Vince: I mean, who knows what’s gonna happen? Maybe you’ll win it for us this year and you’ll ride off a champ. Maybe even if you win, you stick around for a few years. Either way, you’ve shown me I’ll get mine once the time is right.

Kerry:

Vince: Yo, man. Something wrong?

Kerry: There ain’t a stiff enough drink to deal with you flapping your big ugly fucking jumbo tar baby lips.

Vince: The fuck you just say to me? Fuck you, you racist piece of shit. I dare you to say that again. I fucking dare you.

Kerry: And if I catch you and your jigaboo friends trying to get that bandwagon fuckwit Snoop Dogg to do a Super Bowl song for us, I’ll get my gun out of my special locker room and spray your meager shit-for-brains all over the walls and play with it.

Vince: Mike, you hearing this shit? This guy is just fucking off.

Mike Heimerdinger: Not my purview, Vince.

Vince: Not your purview? YOU’RE A COACH. Do something before I break my foot off in his ass.

Heimerdinger: You’ll have to take it up with Fisher.

Vince: Coach! Man, you got to hear what Kerry just said to me. He said –

Jeff Fisher: I know, Vince, I know. I believe you. Kerry uses racial epithets. LenDale is a gloating cockhog of a situational running back. Chris Johnson is a high-stepping little shit, too. Haynesworth stomps on people. Vanden Bosch has three servers full of kiddie porn at the team headquarters. Courtland Finnegan kicks pregnant women for his jollies. Rob Bironas plowed my wife. THE KICKER! And I go randomly skydive rather than prepare for opponents.

And you know what? That’s the way it’s going to be. ‘CAUSE. I. DON’T. GIVE. A. FLYING. FUCK.

[Pumps fist]

You know how long I’ve been coaching this goddamn team? Do you? 14 of the most miserable years of my fucking life. I took over when the team was in Houston, back before Bud Adams moved the Oilers and their history to this backwater, pissant, podunk, shitheap in the shadow of Dollywood. People hate the Colts for their skipping town, but at least Indy stole the history of someone who actually did something and not the fucking Oilers.

The only reason people don’t call me a choker is because no one gives a shit about Tennessee. And they shouldn’t. I don’t give a shit about Tennessee. That’s why I respect Kerry. He’s just hanging on for that ring, doing what he has to. That’s gonna make all this bullshit worthwhile. After that, you, Tennessee, the NFL — you can have coaches that are interested in being classy. I tried that shit. Being classy and $5 will buy you a poke with your mom.

So, why don’t you sit your prima-donna, score-of-8-on-the-Wonderlic, bust-of-a-first-round-pick, suicide-hotline-code-blue, dipshit-sidearm-delivery ass on the bench and maybe YOU might get a ring too for being nothing but a drain on my goddamn time.

Vince:

Can I at least take my shirt off?

Fisher:

Fine.