Mike Holmgren: I know this: At the end of the season, I am very much wiped out. You play your last game and you fall apart. You get a cold, you get all screwed up. The losses, and I’ve said this, are much harder than 10 years ago for me. Much harder. I lose my patience, I get more angry.

Matt Hasselbeck: Quick, coach! I need a playcall! 2nd and 3! 2nd and 3! I’ve got the Redskins defense flummoxed with my elaborate disguise.

Holmgren: Oh, lost bucket. Have I truly abandoned all hope of finding you in my silly quest for gridiron success? How many years has it been? 10? 15? I remember you cylindrical shape as though I were wrapping my flippers around it now.

Deion Branch: C’mon, coach. Play clock is running out!

Hasselbeck: Perhaps I shall capture fair maiden and bind her to the train tracks with this section of rope? That will leave her woefully imperiled by a likely death by locomotive! Mwahahahaha!

Holmgren: When one reaches an advanced age such as I have, it dawns on you all the experiences you may have missed while tilting at the windmills of life. When I think of all the things I’ve yet to eat, all the buffets I’ve yet to buffet with my jaws…

Marcus Pollard: Fuck! We just got six delay a’ game penalties!

12th Man Flag: [flaps in breeze in manner that sounds like booing]

Hasselbeck: Perhaps Master Wayne is in need of his morning abultions. I say, for a crime-fighting mastermind, one would think he could properly bathe himself. In all my years…

Holmgren: I was chatting with Brett Favre the other day. It’d been a while since we caught up. He was telling me about all the wondrous things about retirement and how I should never think of doing them so I can hang around for another decade and torture my team’s fans.

Shaun Alexander: All this standing around has got me tired out. Can we just form a pile so I can dive into it?

Hasselbeck: You know, perhaps I should just do away with this silly playoff beard. I doesn’t seem to be doing me a lick of good.

Ben Roethlisberger: YU CAWL THA PLAYLOFT BEERD? HARF HARF HARF HARF

credit Sportable for the Hasselbeck pic

Yesterday Drew offered up this hatchet piece offering a modest bounty to the NFL player who successfully delivered a season-ending knee-injury to Tom Brady.

I, for one, disapprove of such an undertaking. Not only do I suspect that such a measure is illegal, but it also gets in the way of what is truly best for the NFL:

That’s right, I’m cheering for the Patriots. I want them to go 19-0 while cameras cut to the 1972 Dolphins crying. I want them to go 19-0 next year, too, so the cameras can cut to the ‘72 Dolphins parked in a closed garage with the engine running. In fact, I’d like to see the Pats win the next three or four or eight Super Bowls.

I’m not a bandwagon fan; I’m an anarchist.

I’m rooting for the Pats the way I root for tornadoes in the town where I went to high school. I root for them the way I cheer sharks on the Discovery Channel, the way I want Entourage to get renewed for ten more seasons, and the way I cheered gravity in Titanic when the people fell the length of the boat and hit the smokestacks on their way down.

I want the boiling point. I want pandemonium. I want the destruction of everything we know. I want Patriots fans to become more insufferable than Steelers fans and Cowboys fans combined. I want civil war.

I picture a world where the handful of intelligent, humble people from New England have to apologize for liking their hometown team. I want the number of Patriots bandwagon fans to make the Yankees’ fan base look like the Marlins’. I want the contrarian fucks at Slate to be right just this once. I want every other NFL team to be the Washington Generals to Brady and Belichick’s Harlem Globetrotters.

Why? Because fuck your stupid sports arguments, that’s why.

I want the people who’ve been ruining my new-NFL-season buzz by bitching and moaning about CameraGate to live with the fact that the New England Patriots’ tyranny was caused by their bitching. Yeah, that’s right: everybody who’s been talking about putting an asterisk by the Pats’ three Super Bowl wins, how they’re cheaters for life, how they’re just like Barry Bonds… do you know what you people are? You’re Seahawks fans still bitching about Super Bowl XL.

Let that sink in for a minute.

So Tom Brady, you keep those knees healthy. Be sure to stretch a lot. Fuck some more models if you think that helps. And please, find a way to get a little more press coverage — we simply can’t get enough of you. GO PATS!