As all of you should know—both because you all closely monitor every tweet Jim Thomas has ever sent in hopes of catching him sending a couple of topless pics to Kate Middleton in the most shockingly backwards mobile extramarital affair the world has ever known and because you all sleep outside the house of whoever the current Rams starting Quarterback each and every night because pro football is the only thing in your life that has any meaning and things like “restraining orders” and “privacy” mean nothing to you because you do not have a broad enough vocabulary to know what most words mean—the Sam Bradford era in our fair city has now come to a close. Sam the Ram is gone. Sam the Ram is dead. Sam the Ram is buried. Once and for all our NFL franchise has officially moved on from Sam the Ram. Once and for all science’s ability to produce the indestructible robot knees featured in every single edition of the RoboCop films for actual human use is someone else’s problem.
While everyone else may have been looking at Sam Bradford with an analytical eye, I was looking at him with a sentimental one, apologizing for his mistakes and passing off blame because Sam Bradford was my guy; because Sam Bradford was they guy to return my team to glory. Because Sam Bradford was the #1 pick in the draft and the rookie of the year and had the looks, skill and demeanor that told the naked eye that he was destined to do something. That he was destined to be something. More handsome than a slightly less attractive version of Tom Selleck. A stronger arm than Uncle Rico after smoking 876 pounds of PCP. So cool, calm and collected that he probably had DJ Jazzy Jeff’s cell phone number. Sam Bradford was the total package. Sam Bradford had it all. Sam Bradford was going to be great. Whether any of his play on the field was validating that opinion or not was unimportant.
And then, well, goddamn it. First there was the ACL tear against Carolina in 2013, followed by a retearing of the same ACL tear after he literally had a finger laid on him in the preseason contest against Cleveland last year, and all of a sudden Sam Bradford hadn’t played football in a really long time, a fact which he celebrated by refusing to give back any of the $13 million he was due this season in order to give the team the cap flexibility they needed to like, you know, have 11 players on the field on offense, and 11 players on the field on defense, and 11 players on the field on each and every special teams unit, in spite of the fact that he had made 937,000 times the GDP of Mali to play football the past 2 season while, of course, not playing football hardly at all. Peyton Manning could take a pay cut and Sam Bradford couldn’t. That’s why Sam Bradford has never been offered a Gatorade endorsement deal. At this point he’d be lucky to be sponsor by PowerAde. And you know how the old adage goes: if your face is on a PowerAde Bottle…then you are a failure.
Sam Bradford’s refusal to take a pay cut is also why he will be playing for a new team in the fall. It’s one thing to sit on the bench injured for the better part of 2 seasons. It’s one thing to sit on the bench injured while making enough money to fund a FX sitcom about a NFL quarterback who decides to use his money for the good and adopt several orphans in need for a good home and a free ride through private school (The FX sitcome bing a way better use of your money then actually adopting several orphans in need of a good home and a free ride through private school). It’s one thing to sit on the bench injured for the better part of two seasons while making obscene money and being a big enough loser to both not grow a gigantic beard that makes it look like you’ve literally been hibernating for 18 months or develop a kick ass addiction to heroin and/or Viagra.
It’s another to sit on the bench injured for two seasons while making an obscene amount of money and not growing a beard or becoming addicted to heroin and then, even after your team still wants you to come back and consults you on the hiring of their new offensive coordinator and quarterbacks coach, refuse to cut them some sort of rebate on the 30 million dollars you just made while sitting on your couch with no knees and masturbating to the “sports bra” app on your Apple TV. Sam Bradford made his money. If Sam Bradford wanted to stay here, and wanted the Rams to win, he would have given some of it back.
That may sounds outrageous to some (i.e. Sam Bradford's agent), and it certainly is a move that Sam Bradford did not have to make, but, at the end of the day, that’s how this thing played out. Sam Bradford made his duckets. He was scheduled to make more. And, it turns out, the Rams were finally tired of writing his name on the personalized checks with a police sketch of Les Snead’s face on them. Sometimes, to quote a mix of rap music and 1880’s style English, it’s all about the spondulicks. That was true for Sam Bradford. That was true for the Rams. That is the reason why this entire thing ended the way that it did. That is the reason why their professional relationship is now over.
That’s the reason why we are left here. Sam Bradford is gone and an era is over and I am stuck here, in the crosshairs, wondering what could have been; wondering what to do with the “Bradford Knows” t-shirt I got at the Nike outlet store for 89 Ukrainian Dollars and that picture under the arch I took with whoever played Mr. Cooper on Hangin’ With Mr. Cooper. Sell it? Send it to whoever played Mr. Cooper on Hangin’ With Mr. Cooper as a keepsake? Still wear it around town and respond to all of the people sarcastically asking me “What Bradford Knows?” by saying, simply, “That Your Mom is A Prostitute”?
Move on. It’s time for us all to move on. Sam Bradford. The Rams. St. Louis. Myself. Better days are ahead for all of us. Potentially. My boss just emailed me saying that I won’t have a job if I keep writing 1,300 word blog post intros at 2 PM on a Wednesday so, looks like I may be out of $368/week and the worst health insurance market pretty soon. Not sure if that is an upgrade on my life or not, but I digress…
7 Reason to Love Nick The Ram
So now that I have so succinctly informed you about a recent development that Adam Schefter was able to share in roughly 4 characters of a tweet he just sent detailing 14 different NFL free agent moves, the question remains: who is it that we are moving on to. Well let me take you to the next 2 characters in Adam Schefter’s tweet: Nick Foles. The Rams are moving on to former Philadelphia Eagle quarterback Nick Foles. This is a good thing. This is a great thing. Nick Foles is the next Sam Bradford; aka the man who is meant to take us to the promise land. This is why…
1) Nick Foles Throws TD’s, Not INT’s-In Nick Foles’ 1st season as a starter, 2013, he threw 27 Touchdowns and all of 2 Interceptions. That is insane. That is ridiculous. That, the act of throwing more touchdowns then interceptions by such a significantly deranged margin, is a good thing for a quarterback who is trying to win football games to do. I mean think about the preposterousness of those numbers. They are unheard of. No one has put up anything like that since I use to play “Quarterback Club ‘92” with Randall Cunningham on my Gameboy and black dots were littering the screen and putting up a ton of points even if no reasonable observer could tell who had the ball or if there were any players on the field or if there was a field at all due to the quality of the graphics. And people say technology has progressed? Please. Quit pumping yourself up Zuckerberg.
Nick Foles came back to Earth a bit in 2014, throwing just 13 TD’s to 10 picks, but I am going to blame that on Chip Kelly deciding to get rid of DeShawn Jackson because he both didn’t go to Oregon and he watches cable TV in his free time instead of sleeping for 21 hours/day because I am good at logic. So let’s toss that out and say this: Nick Foles throws the ball into offensive player’s hands while they are standing in or running towards the end zone. That’s better than throwing the ball into defensive player’s hands, which Nick Foles, coincidentally, does not do. Jackpot.
2) Nick Foles Looks Like ‘Sunshine’-Sunshine is from California. Sunshine is a California dreamboat. Sunshine is the backup QB on the TC Williams Titans who can throw the football a mile but cannot pitch it 3 yards until the starter, Rev, gets hurt and Sunshine suddenly can pitch a football 3 yards and the Titans go on a run to the State Title that makes their first year head coach, Denzel Washington, look like a miracle worker for proving that both black and white people can play football together, at the same time and on the same team. Yes, I am talking about Remember the Titans. And yes, I am saying that Nick Foles greatly resembles Sunshine, The Titans backup turned star QB who occasionally kisses his teammates in the shower in the most hilarious fashion possible. Where's Josina Anderson reporting on those shower habits when you ned her?
Sunshine is one of the finest fictional quarterbacks in the history of the modern sports cannon, and having a real-life QB that is Sunshine’s—and by extension Kip Pardue, the potentially Academy-Award attending actor who plays him—doppelganger can be nothing but a positive. One Sunshine is so good looking that he makes girls ignore his vaguely mentioned homosexuality (Not that there's anything wrong with being a homosexual of course. Certainly not in the Titans minds. They love diversity goddamnit.). Two Sunshine has won a state title. Three Sunshine promotes racial harmony. Those are the things that I want in my QB. Those are the things that Nick Foles has. If he didn’t then he wouldn’t look like Sunshine. If he didn’t then you all wouldn’t be nodding your heads in agreement right now. Haha. That, dear readers, is how you prove a point.
3) Nick Foles is My Best Friend: You heard it hear first…Nick Foles and I are BFFFF’s (I am not sure what the 3rd or 5th F means), and we always will be. Sorry Bob Viola. Too bad Young Jeezy. Get the fuck over it ghost of Ulysses S. Grant. In a different life we would have torn it up together and more than likely turned the White House into little more than a den of promiscuity were bearded men drink literal bottles of whiskey every day before passing on the floor in nothing but their tighty whities inexplicably covered in grape jelly. But not in this one man. Not in this one.
Nick Foles is my best buddy because I have tweeted him 489 times telling him that he is the most important person in my life, aka the magic number to make anything you tweet become 100% reality. Nick Foles is my best buddy because I had a dream last night that he had agreed to pay me $9,000/day to move into my 22-square foot utility closet along with fellow new Rams’ signee Nick Fairley and that squirrel in there who probably has learned to use a can opener based on the amount of Costco brand canned green beans he has mysteriously eaten in the past 2 -years or so, a fact which inspired me to pitch my new sitcom idea “Nick & Nick In A Utility Closet” to the Sundance Channel (And no this is not a reference to Nick or Nick's sexuality. I'm like the TItans, I welcome all kinds and couldn't care less what you are into suckers. This is a reference to Nick & Nick legitimately moving into my utility closet because I am poor and they would give me money and keep that squirrel occupied to do so). Nick Foles is my best buddy because he is the quarterback for the Rams.
So welcome to the same club Tony Banks is in Nick, aka the elitest company in the world. Now let’s eat some canned green beans and drink some Busch Beer together. Just like friends do.
4) Nick Foles Has Never Been to Prison-I don’t think. Usually not going to prison is a negative for me when deciding whether or not I like somebody, because people who have been in prison are awesome and super nice to me, but in this case it fits. This is assuming of course that Nick Foles is not a narc, and hasn’t rolled on other people in order to avoid jail time. I will never respect narcs. Non-convicted felons who are not narcs? Those are guys that I can occasionally get behind.
5) Nick Foles Uses Public Transportation-You know how everyone thinks the current Pope is so cool and hip because he rides the bus around Buenos Aires even though riding any South American bus gives you roughly a 74% chance of catching hepatitis A, C, D and Q? Or how about the respect everyone has for my man Joe Biden, who used to ride the train up to DC from Delaware every day, more than likely because Amtrak trains on the Eastern Seaboard are government designated legal prostitution zones and, well, we know how Joe Bids likes to get with his money and his male reproductive organ after a long day of drinking scotch and playing Farmville in, well, wherever it is that the vice-president is all day? Or what about the love we got for that guy in a Chicago White Sox jersey who told me I was going to hell last time I rode a “L” train in that rat cesspool of “culture” known as Chicago? That guy said he knew God personally, that they had played mini-golf together at a putt-putt course in Virginia Beach. And I believed him.
Well, like The Pope or Joe Biden or God’s best friend who rides the Redline in a Jermaine Dye jersey, Nick Foles is a man of the people. Nick Foles takes public transportation. I’m pretty sure. Or if he doesn’t, he will soon. Because if he doesn’t move into my utility closet he’ll more than likely move to Wellston, which is a nice little metrolink ride to the Dome so...it makes sense when you think about it.
6) Nick Foles Won’t Be Coached by Brian Schottenheimer-Most underrated move of the Rams’ offseason thus far? Well assuming that no one in the front office has given Stan Kroenke a swirly in a toilet that still has a bit of Greg Robinson’s poop in it I am going to have to say that it was their supposed amicable departure with former offensive coordinator Brian Schottenheimer. Why you ask? Well here is the thing about Brian Schottenheimer, I am not sure, but I am pretty sure, that he cannot think. And, as it turns out, the ability to think is not a pre-requisite for being an offensive coordinator in professional football if your father is a fairly successful former NFL head coach who would be a wildly successful former NFL head coach if he was able to teach his running backs how to not fumble while crossing the goal line for AFC Championship Game Winning Touchdowns untouched.
Before disagreeing with me, think about this for a second: has anyone in the history of the human race done more to ruin the goatee than Brian Schottenheimer? I mean Bernie Mac had a goatee. Walter White had a goatee. At one point and time Zac Efron had a goatee. Zac freakin' Efron. He used to have a goatee. He doesn’t anymore. Thanks Brian Schottenheimer you dick. Your inability to call plays for the most popular franchise in professional sports has ruined a facial hairstyle, and potentially Zac Efron’s career, forever. Think about that before your head hits the pillow at night man. Think about that.
7) Nick Foles Hates LA-Nick Foles has seen 9021. Nick Foles knows that there is no one in the LA region but spoiled teenagers with no souls who may or may not be able to read because their high school experience is filled with things such as veggie burgers and lactoid free milkshakes and dude’s who wear nothing but white t-shirts with rolled up sleeves so their farmer’s tan are less obvious and their clearly unsculpted biceps are visible for every one to see instead of things such as books or classes or that type of math with the letters that is meant for future Ivy leaguers and instead is attempted to be taught to people whose college future will consist of 89.7% of Nyquil induced sleep. That culture is not unknown to him. He just chooses to reject it.
Why would Nick Foles want to go to LA? There are way too few people there who are morbidly obese, and therefore hilarious. They are close ocean, meaning that over 88% of the population is either going to drown or get viciously stung by a jellyfish and subsequently get urinated on by a male nurse in the nearest medical care facility. Not one parent in Los Angeles has vaccinated their child because they want them to be authentically qualified to audition for a recurring role on the new Disney Channel original serious “Kids Who Die of Curable Diseases in America Because It’s 1874 and not 2015” in the first ever dark drama that the network has ever produced.
Glitz. Glamour. Stupidity. Risk. That is what Los Angeles is about. That is not who Nick Foles is. Nick Foles is understated. Nick Foles flies below the radar. Nick Foles is about winning and nothing else. Nick Foles is about St. Louis. He shares our value, and our love for the most delicious and luxurious cuisine that can be found anywhere in the entire world.
In short, Nick Foles is my quarterback. Nick Foles is our quarterback. Nick Foles will be the quarterback of your 2015-2016 Super Bowl Champions St. Louis Rams. Now let’s go out there, throw some footballs around, and tear this mother f’er up. Because I have never been wrong about predicting success for the Rams before, and I do not intend to start now.
Sachary L. Poelker
“The Sack Artist: Jack of All Trades”