Dungy: For the past few years, I have seen my beloved NFL become overrun with loudmouth coaches and deranged hooligans with no semblance of respect for authority of Jesus. It is travesty, I tell you. What was once a league of QUIET STRENGTH has now succumbed to our worst secular impulses: selfishness, greediness, look-at-meism! I won’t tolerate it any longer. I will not sit idly by while that disgusting REX RYAN and his band of foul-mouthed cretins sully the inherent Godliness of our most American sport! That’s why I called on you. I know you understand where I’m coming from. I feel like we can see eye-to-eye. You and me, we understand each other, do we not?

Garrett: Hmm. Yes. Indeed. Such a shame that this league lacks MORAL FIBROUSNESS. It lacks a, dare I say, Princetonian element of intelligence and rectitude. Oh sure, there’s a place for fun. A time for GOOD EATINGS, and consecrating the bond of obedience. But I agree with you, dear Sir. Such ruffianage from the Jets has NO PLACE in our beloved League.

Dungy: Yes, yes! That’s right! I knew you’d understand. You see where all this is going! You can see how the legalization of gay marriage in New York and the flamboyant style of play that the Jets deploy and Mark Sanchez’s love of showtunes are converging to DESTROY OUR NATION! They must be stopped. They WILL be stopped.

Garrett: Never you fear, dear Coach Dungy. For I have found the ultimate interloper. A man who knows the way of our enemy inside and out. But I’m afraid it means getting your hands a bit dirty. It involves to sinking well below merely just the state university level of acceptable behavior. Are you prepared for that? Are you prepared to risk your very soul to do what is right for the Dallas Football Cowboys?

Dungy: I am.

Garrett: Very well.

(door flies open)

Wolfman Rob: OWOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

Dungy: My God, the stench! It’s like being near Peter King’s wastepaper basket! This is not the smell of godliness!

Wolfman Rob: Fuckin’ Tony Dungy! Goddddddamn! That is one fine mustache you have on there, sir. Let me tell you about the mustachioed woman I fucked in the ass. 1984. Key West. I saunter into the Cuche Cantina and who do I see running the food out but the prettiest little goddamn girl from San Juan you ever saw! Skin the color of mole sauce! I licked my beard and went right for that ass, and then she turns around and I’ll be goddamned if she didn’t have a mustache just like yours right there, sir. God, just looking at your face right now makes my dick hard. Wait, that came out wrong.

Dungy: He’s even worse than I could have imagined.

Garrett: Trust me! He knows things! To defeat the heathen you must think like one! Wait for the tequila to wear off and he’ll offer us a treasure trove of information!

Wolfman Rob: Now my brother likes to fuck feet, but me? I’ll come on your rabbit.

Garrett: Sit tight. It may be a while.

Dungy: Guhhhhhhh…

(Meanwhile, at Jets headquarters)

86300603JM021_NEW_YORK_JETS

Mark Sanchez: Hey, Shonn! The season is almost here!

Shonn Greene: Yup.

Mark Sanchez: I wonder if we’ll win the Super Bowl! Do you think we can win the Super Bowl?

Shonn Greene: Yup.

Mark Sanchez: I guess I’m the biggest question mark. If I throw the ball as inaccurately as I know I can, we might be fucked!

Shonn Greene: Yup.

Mark Sanchez: You think Coach has a plan?

(ground rumbling)

Shonn Greene: Shit, he back from Blimpie.

(door flies open)

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Ryan: HOW THE FUCK YOU DOIN’, BOYS?

Sanchez: Hey, Coach!

Ryan: I feel fucking great! DO YOU FEEL FUCKING GREAT BECUASE I FEEL FUCKING GREAT! I FEEL LIKE I COULD HIT A HOME RUN WITH MY BONER, I’M SO FIRED UP!

Sanchez: We’re very excited, Coach.

Ryan: Oh, men. MEN. Men, ever since this god-awful piece-of-shit no-good motherfucking shit-eating cocksucking asshole-blasting taint-caving lockout ended, I have more energy than I’ve ever had! I feel like I could run for five whole minutes, I’m so full of piss! ARE YOU FULL OF PISS, NACHO? MEXICAN PISS SMELLS LIKE MEXICO!

Sanchez: I’m doing just fine, sir.

Ryan: Nacho, your new name is Graziella, because you’re a homo who likes musicals. Don’t think I didn’t check out that interview with you in GQ while I was busy nuking the bathroom at Blimpie! You should have seen what I left in that bowl. I traded them a footlong for a footlong!

Sanchez: Sir, I’m not ashamed of my love of musicals. I actually think it’s quite manly to embrace pursuits that other men might find…

Ryan: I HEARD YOU BANGED THE SHIT OUT OF HEROES GIRL.

Sanchez: That was just a rumor.

Ryan: Oh, come on, Graziella. We can talk honest. It’s ME. I know you don’t wanna fight me anymore, you big pussysquirt. You know you hit that pint-sized ass.

Sanchez: Well, if we’re being frank…

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Ryan: Oh! Oh! Oh, our little Graziella took his girl home for a limited-run production of “Dicks in Dolls”! THAT’S GREAT FUCKING HUSTLE!

(slaps Sanchez on ass, HARD)

Sanchez: Ouch!

Ryan: Now, men! First order of business today is PROTECTION. My twin brother, who is as sleazy a sack of shit as you will find on this planet Earth, which is why I love him so much, is gonna use just as many Ryan-approved dirty tricks as me. So we need to prepare! I want everyone’s knees wrapped in heavy duty Kevlar, and you’re gonna want to keep your daughters locked in your treehouse until the Wolfman has left town. He treats girls like a Payless Shoe Store. He comes in all sizes. Now, to protect yourself from “bounty nutgrabs,” we have to…

(door flies open)

jerry

Jones: NYEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAWWWWWW!!!! FUCKING CAT DAMN YEEHAW!!!! HOLY FUCKING YEEHAW I AM READY TO YEEHAW!

Ryan: Oh, who the hell let his ass in the door?

Jones: Well well well, loogee what we got here! THE FUCKING TOKEN AFC TITLE GAME WHORES THEMSELVES. You boys look ready for another season of just not quite being good enough! If it’s any consolation, YOU CAN HAVE ONE OF MY GRAYING BALL HAIRS! How’s your team doing, Fat-ipus Rex?

Sanchez: What do you want, Mr. Jones?

Jones: And if it isn’t your little wetback QB! Promoted all the way from dishwasher! I’m very excited to see what kind of errant passes you have in store for us Sunday night, young man! You think you’re a star? WHY DON’T YOU TALK TO MY BOY ROMO AND LEARN WHAT REAL STARDOM IS ALL ABOUT! BECAUSE HE’S A FUCKING STAR! Did I not tell you people he’s a star?

Sanchez: I don’t think you and I have ever spoken bef…

Jones: HE’S A STAR! A STAR WITH A 100-WATT SMILE AND A 200-WATT FUCKPOLE! I am here to tell you gentlemen today that I know what you’re up to. I see all your antics on the TV and I see your coach huffin’ and puffin’ to the media like a used dildo salesman. You boys think you’re the marquee franchise! YOU BOYS THINK YOU’RE THE A-LIST! Well, I got news for you: THERE’S ONLY ONE AMERICA’S TEAM AND IT’S THE ONE WITH THE STAR ON THE HELMET! You can’t even upstage the only functional Manning!

Ryan: You can have your America’s Team title, Jerral. It’s the perfect title for your little band of shitlickers. No one in this country can find a fucking job, and no one on your team can find a fucking divisional playoff win.

Jones: THREE FUCKING SUPER BOWL TITLES UNDER THE DOUBLE J, YOU FAT TWAT! Let’s see you top that, you Crisco-licking shit! You’re too busy fucking toes to know that your QB ain’t a real STAR! Well, let me tell you something right now. You can have all the media attention you like. You can hog the spotlight all you want. The Double J don’t mind ONE BIT. We’re doin’ things a bit different these days, not the Foot Fisting Way like you! We’re doin’ it with DIGNITY. With INTEGRITY. We’re flying under the radar. I told seventeen different reporters that myself this morning! We’re going to win with QUIET STRENGTH. The Double J ain’t afraid to go all classy this time around! In fact, I’ve secured the finest table at Houlihan’s along with two extremely well-dressed hookers to make the announcement! I’m gonna wear all my pinky rings and my Pope hat with the Stetson brim! THE COWBOY WAY WILL BE THE RIGHT WAY! And I’ve got a secret weapon at my disposal! He’s spilling the beans to your enemies as we speak!

(over at Valley Ranch)

Wolfman Rob: So I’m fuckin’ this hooker down at the Safari Motel Inn, and she start screamin’ out FUCK ME IN THE BEEFHOLE! FUCK ME IN THE BEEFHOLE! And I hear ol’ Rexy’s hooker screaming the EXACT SAME THING through the wall from the next room over, at the exact same time! Those two gals were workin’ off a script! Have you ever been both impressed AND let down all at once?

Dungy: How much longer must we endure this?

Garrett: Don’t worry. He’s winding down. I can sense it.

Wolfman Rob: Now another time, we’re in Puerto Vallarta, and I ask if we can have a burro in the room to watch, and the girl had NO PROBLEM with it, seeing as how it was her family’s burro…

(back to Jets HQ)

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Ryan: I ain’t afraid of The Wolfman, Jerral.

Sanchez: Wolfman?

Ryan: That’s my nickname for Rob. Always on the hunt, that one. Watch for him during the full moon. He goes into the woods and does stuff I don’t really want to know about.

Jones: YOU PEOPLE AREN’T PAYING ATTENTION TO ME AND HOW UNDERSTATED I’M BEING!

Ryan: You go back to the Wolfman and you tell him that Bubbo is ready for his ass.

Sanchez: Bubbo?

Ryan: NO TIME TO EXPLAIN IT.

Jones: Oh, you better be ready. Because I have paid that bearded freakshow top dollar to rip that dirty Mexican’s knee apart like a quinceanera dress! THE DOUBLE J WILL HAVE HIS GLORY, AND TAKE YOUR WIFE’S LITTLE PIGGY HOOFERS WITH HIM WHEN HE DOES! YEEEEEEHAWWWWWW I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!

(leaves)

(back at Valley Ranch)

Wolfman Rob: Now, the secret to makin’ love to a black woman is to KEEP UP THE CHATTER.

Dungy: The plan! You must give us the plan!

Wolfman Rob: Oh, right! The gameplan! Well, they don’t have Damien Woody anymore. Why don’t we just flip DeMarcus to the opposite side, and let him rape Wayne Hunter to death?

Garrett: Splendid! You see? PATIENCE HAS PAID OFF NOT UNLIKE A FINE PRINCETON EDUCATION.

Dungy: I could have figured that out myself five hours ago! You people aren’t of the Christliness I’m looking for!

(disappears in a puff of red vapor)

Garrett: Heavens to Betsy, what a cold fish! Remind me not to invite him to Muffin’s Kentucky Derby party this spring!

Wolfman Rob: HORSES? Let me tell you about love in a stable…

Garrett: Oh, God.

(back at Jets HQ)

Ryan: FUCKING BRING IT IN, MEN.

(everyone brings it in)

Ryan: I don’t give a shit what that Arkansas hillbilly says, and I don’t give a shit who’s a star and who isn’t. I don’t tell the world I think you men are FUCKING WINNERS just so everyone can blow smoke up my balls. I say it because I believe it. DO YOU?!

Everyone: Yes!

Ryan: This is a gift, men. Right here? This game? This weekend? The chance to finally strap it on again and fucking MURDER someone? That’s a gift. It’s like Christmas, only instead of shaking your presents, YOU KICK THE SHIT OUT OF THEM. This is what I live for, men. The rest of my life is just waiting for Sundays. Anytime I’m driving in my car or licking my wife’s shoes, I’m just waiting for Sunday. And I’ve waited a looooong time for this particular Sunday. And I know you have, too. This almost didn’t happen. And now that we finally have our Sundays back, are we gonna spend it sitting on our dicks?

Everyone: NO!

Ryan: ARE YOU READY TO FUCKING SPEW FIRE AND MAKE THE MOUNTAINS BURN??!!!

Everyone: YES!

Ryan: ARE YOU READY TO TAKE WHAT IF FCUCKING YOURS AND GRIND THOSE TEXAS CUNTS DOWN INTO THE SWAMP??!!!

Everyone: YES!

Ryan: ARE YOU READY TO FIGHT? TO KILL? TO MAIM? TO MUTILATE? ARE YOU READY TO FUCKING PLAY FOOTBALL??????

Everyone: YES!

Ryan: FUCKING HANDS IN!

(hands in)

Ryan: We’re gonna fucking win, and then we’re all gonna go out for Chinese food and oiled handjobs. FUCKING WIN ON THREE! ONE TWO THREE!

Everyone: WIN!

Ryan: Hoo boy, I gotta call my brother and remind him the knife collection still ain’t legal.

Sanchez: I wish it was Sunday right now.