Here we have some Ravens fans taking advantage of the Tennessee nightlife last weekend. I’ve always found the idea of grown folks wearing jerseys to be endearingly dopey. My OCD being what it is, I inevitably find myself checking the numbers to see which players are overrepresented and the most obscure jersey in the group. Along those lines I was able to Jersey watch: Derrick Mason, Two Ed Reeds, Joe Flacco (wisely trying to stay out of frame), Bart Scott (dedicated to Clare, who asked for fat & ugly), Ray Lewis and I think I even see Ray Rice bopping around in the back at one point.

Since they made the long trip to Nashvegas, one has to assume that these fans are some of the more hardcore Ravens followers plodding around the dance floor like some sort of Cretaceous period mating ritual. And while that may not speak particularly well of Ravens fans, I would rather be in the bar with those guys than in your run of the mill Steelers’ bars. I hear it’s shank or be shanked around those creeps.

[ complete video from Nasty Nestor @ WNST ]

Yes, that’s David Garrard tearing up the dance floor with a bunch of white people at some wedding. I only point that out because that fact is what will keep him from having to explain why he was running around in “public” without sufficient body covering (see: Young, Vince). Really, this just points to the fact that David Garrard is just like us; a big, sweaty guy that can’t dance (More pics after the jump). 

Big ups to Brahsome for the images. Why, yes, I do care to get nice.

The Central Florida Jort Aficionados Association Packer Backers got together recently and O-town got tore up Wisconsin-diaspora style. Nothing says dignified sportsmanship like flinging yellow toilet seats around an otherwise scenic locale. Now you know how the CFPB rolls.

Earlier this week, former Cardinal/Seahawk/Bear/Ram/Panther/Colt receiver Ricky Proehl opened Ricky Proehl’s Proehlific Park Youth Sports Complex in Greensboro, NC. Jeezum-crow, that’s a long name. Is it located anywhere near Al Harrington’s Wacky Waving Inflatable Arm-Flailing Tube-Man Emporium and Warehouse?

Note the use of the word “Proehlific.” I tend to look askance at any product which describes itself using a neologism based on the product name (i.e. Swifferiffic, Fergalicious, Schweppervescence). But in the interests of preserving the endangered species that is the white wide receiver, I pledge my unconditional support to this effort. Don Beebes don’t just grown on trees, y’know.

Mister Proehl, you are hereby invested with the duty of producing the next Ed McCafferey or Drew Bennett. Judging by this curriculum, you are up to the task:

Name: Matt Ryan
Nickname: Matty Ice

Easy Reasons to Hate Him Sight Unseen: Did you see that fucking nickname? Then there’s the issue of the two first names. I bet he enjoys a good balcony party.

Height: Plenty
Weight: Enough

Arm: Yes.
Speed: No.
Head: Wicked clevah!
Intangibles: Still unquantifiable.

Urine Sample: Golden.
Stool Sample: Smooth under extreme pressure.
Blood Sample: Blue.

Mainstream Comparison: Tom Brady
KSK Comparison: Joe from Team America

Best Known For: Overblown comebacks, beating crappy teams in bowl games, padding stats against really crappy teams, and leadership.

Who Wants Him: Kansas City loves his ability to win games for bad teams.

Who Will Take Him: Atlanta loves him because he’s safer than your girlfriend’s gay shopping buddy.

Hobbies: 94, 51, 56, and the one on the far right…

Campus Hangout: Planned Parenthood

Favorite Food: Chowdah!

Story ESPN Will Shove Down Your Throat: He’s from small-town Pennsylvania, he attended a prestigious Quaker high school, he attended a prestigious Catholic college, and he emits a distinct odor of apple pie.

Immediate Impact: Jersey sales amongst downtrodden fans.
Down the Road: Another generic disappointment.

Say what you will about those Lazy Tuesday goofs, but at least they didn’t work too hard at looking ridicuwockle. These guys, on the other hand, seem to gone through Herculean efforts to look achingly dopey. I hope these dancers got paid. Not in money of course, but an ice cream sandwich sounds about right.

It’s a battle for Lake Erie supremacy, dredging duties and wasted playoff berths as two surprising teams string their respective long-suffering fanbases along just a little longer. Who gets led down the garden path a little further to impending disappointment? Who bemoans fate louder? But more importantly, WHO YA GOT?