86300603JM021_NEW_YORK_JETS

Mark Sanchez: Oh wow, Shonn. We’re in some serious trouble here!

Shonn Greene: Yup.

Mark Sanchez: Three losses in a row! Man, we suck right now!

Shonn Greene: Yup.

Mark Sanchez: And you know what the worst part of it is? I think it might be my fault.

Shonn Greene: Yup.

Mark Sanchez: I feel like I’m losing the team. I feel like everyone has lost faith in me.

Shonn Greene: Yup.

Mark Sanchez: What’s up with you, Shonn? You seem awfully curt today. Just a bunch of one-word answers.

Shonn Greene: Yup.

Mark Sanchez: Oh, God. You, too? I’ve lost you, along with everyone else! OH NO! I can’t believe I’ve managed to lose my best friend in all this!

Shonn Greene: Best friend? The hell you talking about?

Mark Sanchez: We’re not best friends?

Shonn Greene: Nope.

Mark Sanchez: I thought we were best friends!

Shonn Greene: Nope.

Mark Sanchez: Christ, everything I’ve ever believed in has been a lie! What if I’ve been fooling myself this whole time? What if I’ve never been worth a damn? This is a spiritual crisis, Shonn!

Shonn Greene: Yup.

Mark Sanchez: Maybe a trip to see “Mamma Mia!” would help get my head straight. Sometimes, it just feels so good to get away and lose yourself in ABBA.

Shonn Greene: (shakes head)

Mark Sanchez: I thought you liked musicals!

Shonn Greene: Nope.

(ground rumbling)

Mark Sanchez: Maybe coach will have it sorted out. I need help!

(door flies open)

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Ryan: HOW THE FUCK YOU DOIN’, BOYS?

Sanchez: Hey, Coach!

Ryan: Oh, men. Oh… men. Men, I’m not going to sugarcoat it, because things that are sugarcoated are delicious. WE ARE SHIT. We are a big green turtle that poked out of a dirty Russian war criminal’s asshole and broke off down into a puddle of cold piss. I took a shit this morning, men. Big shit. HUGE shit. The kind of shit that makes you wonder if you just lost a vital organ. And all I could think about while that turd was running a go route was, “THIS IS US.”

Sanchez: So what can I help do about it?

Ryan: You, personally? Uh… well… uh…

(door flies open)

Silky Garrard: Hello. I was told to be here at this facility at 3PM today, which is why I’m here at 5:46PM.

Sanchez: Wait a second. What’s he doing here?

Silky Garrard: Sir! SIR! Take a seat, my Chicano friend. I know just the kind of entertainment you Latin men require. You must be tired. You must be aching after a long day working in the fields, picking organic blueberries for the local Trader Joe’s shipping facility just so you have enough money to send back to your five hundred family members down in Chiapas. I know your struggle all too well. Your hands must look GHASTLY, as if they were chewed on by a very large dog. I do not blame you for coming to me and asking for the companionship of my fine, fine, FINE ladies. Business has blossomed ever since the Jaguars so rudely showed Silky Garrard the door. Such a frugal enterprise down there. Wayne Weaver would only buy a woman from me if I let him pay with used waffles. Now, to show you your options for the evening’s latex party…

Ryan: Hold up, Silky. We don’t need the hookers. Yet. We need you for something else first.

Sanchez: Oh, God! You’re replacing me! That’s it, isn’t it? He’s here to take the starting job!

Ryan: Now, don’t go shittin’ your pantalones, Mark.

Sanchez: And you called me MARK! Oh, sweet Jesus! I’m not even worthy of a racist nickname anymore! I’M SHIT! I’M ASS! I need ABBA now more than ever!

Ryan: Hold on a goddamn second.

Sanchez: This is not all my fault, you know! Ask the wideouts!

(opens door to wideout room, where Plaxico, Santonio, and Mason are all punching Brian Schottenheimer in the nuts)

Ryan: God dammit, BREAK IT UP! BREAK IT UP! We do NOT punch members of the coaching staff in the nuts here! Except Alosi, because he’s a shithead.

Mason: You’re not throwing the ball to the wideouts enough!

Ryan: You got a smart mouth on you, Mason. I brought you in from Baltimore because I thought you were a WINNER. Instead, all you do is bitch about your grandkids not calling you!

Mason: Fuck you!

Ryan: Keep it up. I’ll ship you to HOUSTON. See what life is like working for Gary fucking Kubiak. You blow games with five seconds left and Kubes gets Dep all over you! And Wade steals lunches!

Mason: I’ll take it, BITCH. I’m outta here.

(traded to Houston)

Ryan: God dammit, we’re falling apart here!

Silky Garrard: That’s why you need the comfort of a good, strong bitch.

Ryan: That’s true, Silky. I like where your head is at. BUT WE NEED TO FOCUS FOR A MOMENT HERE! I need everyone to take a knee!

(everyone takes a knee)

Sanchez: Actually, can we stand? This is really uncomfortable.

Santonio: Yeah, this floor is concrete and shit.

Ryan: Stand, sit, stick your thumb up your butt, WHATEVER. Just gather in my general vicinity.

(everyone gathers round)

Ryan: I told you I wouldn’t sugarcoat it and I haven’t. We all suck right now. I’ll take the blame for it. Schottenheimer will take the blame for it. Shit Taco over there will take the blame for it.

Sanchez: Hey, I have a nickname again!

Ryan: SHUT UP. Look, I don’t always have the answers. And I’d be a shit leader if I pretended I did. You’d know I was bullshitting you, and I will NEVER bullshit you boys. We’re fucking up right now. But it’s not like we haven’t played like shit in the past, am I right? We figured it out after a while, and we got back to winnin’ games and bangin’ strippers. But we only figured it out because we stayed TOGETHER. None of this girly finger-pointing dogshit. You can blame me all you like, and I can blame you all I like. But it ain’t gonna do us any good, now will it? It’s not gonna magically get us to stop fucking up.

Sanchez: But then… how do we stop fucking up?

Ryan: Well… I think that we… We probably ought to… You know, there’s a good bit of tape we could study… OH FUCK IT. JUST BRING OUT THE HOOKERS.

Silky Garrard: Your wish is my command.

(brings out the hookers)

Silky Garrard: I was feeling a certain Asian flair today. These girls just arrived from Myanmar in an airtight shipping container. They may be a touch light-headed. They were not given names at birth, only three-letter passcodes. RFQ over there likes dolls and having her hair pulled. FGP has never spoken a word in her life. She might have brain damage. Prices have been tattooed on their fannies.

Ryan: (hands out cash) Go, men! GO! Do what you have to do!

(everyone has sex with a hooker)

(ten minutes later)

Ryan: Does everyone feel better?

Sanchez: My penis itches.

Silky Garrard: That’ll happen.

Ryan: What about you, Dichabod? You happy now?

Santonio: Well, I…

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Ryan: Oh! Oh! Oh, Dichabod Crane took a ride on the Orient Express! THAT’S GREAT FUCKING HUSTLE!

(slaps Holmes on penis, HARD)

Santonio: Ouch!

Ryan: FUCKING BRING IT IN, MEN.

(everyone brings it in)

Ryan: Listen, let’s not get lost in our own asses here. It’s early. And did you see who we’re playing this week? We’re playing the DOLPHINS. They’re fucking shittier than we are! All it takes is one win, men. All it takes is one goddamn little win to make it all right. One win, and suddenly our differences don’t seem so big. One win, and suddenly pussy tastes just a little bit sweeter.

Santonio: Speaking of tasting pussy, I think I might have some kind of sexual gum infection now, Coach.

Ryan: Quiet! I’m getting in a rhythm here. One win, men. One win and you’ll remember how the fuck it’s done. You’ll remember that you are WINNERS. That you are all eight-tentacled, whale-raping seabeasts! That you can still FIGHT AND FUCK AND KILL. You like fighting and fucking and killing, don’t you?

Everyone: Yes!

Ryan: I’m glad we’re going through this right now, men. I truly am. It’s a ball-check moment for all of us. I look around this room and I see men who are hurt, and angry, and want to strangle a stray cat. I like that. I like that this has pissed you off, because right now I’M SO GODDAMN PISSED I COULD TEAR OUT NACHO’S HEART AND FUCKING EAT IT. AND I MIGHT, BECAUSE THEN I COULD BENCH HIS ASS.

Sanchez: Hey!

Ryan: This is the moment that we’re gonna look back on. When we’re sitting on top of the fucking world in February, we’re gonna point to this month right here and said THIS is when our balls dropped. When we became the anger. When we became the red blood fog that consumed cities whole. WHEN WE BECAME FUCKING DEATH. ARE YOU READY TO BECOME DEATH?!

Everyone: YES!

Ryan: ARE YOU READY TO COME FUCKING CORRECT??!!!

Everyone: YES!

Ryan: ARE YOU READY TO REST YOUR BALLS ON THE CHIN OF VICTORY??!!!

Everyone: YES!

Ryan: ARE YOU FUCKING READY TO MUTILATE AND DISMEMBER??????

Everyone: YES!

Ryan: FUCKING HANDS IN!

(hands in)

Ryan: We’re gonna get that one fucking win, and then we’re all gonna go back upstairs and enjoy Round 2 with Silky’s finest!

Silky: You get 10% off your second insertion.

Ryan: FUCKING WIN ON THREE! ONE TWO THREE!

Everyone: WIN!

Ryan: Do you take a credit card?

Silky: Cash or coke only, please.