Ben Roethlisberger wants to play -- Maybe you just want to talk

(from ESPN.com) PITTSBURGH -- This is one week Ben Roethlisberger wouldn't mind taking a nasty hit from Ray Lewis.

Maybe he shouldn't have slapped his nasty dick on a poor, unsuspecting, underage-ish 6 out of 10.

Lewis told Pittsburgh reporters on a conference call Wednesday that he exchanged messages this week with Roethlisberger, who regrets he can't play in a game that could decide the AFC North leader.

"He wishes he were out there -- he wishes he were out there, man," Lewis said. "It's a respect thing we have playing against each other. It's a rivalry but, once again, it goes back to the level of respect we have."

Like most professional athletes, NFL players live by a code of respect. They respect the game and they respect each other.

The law? Common decency? Not so much.

Need I remind anyone that the reason Surprisingly Average Lengthed For Such A Tall Guy Ben isn't out there this week is because he's suspended for almost-rape? And in case you missed my last post, I'll refresh your memory: Ray Lewis was accessory to murder.

I'm big on "second chances" -- Mike Vick did his time and now is back carrying / eventually failing at a critical time for fantasy football teams everywhere -- but poor Big Ben is suffering through a four week suspension for almost-raping.

I can't feel any sympathy for old gray dick, sorry.

"We texted each other when he was going through what he was going through," Lewis said. "I was there for him. It's more of a brotherhood. The game will always take care of itself on the field, but off the field if we don't look out for each other, nobody else will."

"For some reason, when we rape and murder people, we are persecuted."

This makes me sick. Basically, fuck you. I love you on the field, Ray Lewis, but you fucking killed somebody. Or watched while somebody killed somebody and didn't say shit. Ben locked himself in a bathroom with a tiny college girl and forced himself on her. The world is not out to get you; you are scumbags.

Sorry this wasn't funny at all. Next time I will make more jokes about energy-efficient vehicles squashing genitals.

This Guy's Deity is a Total Dick

           Let's be completely honest; most of life is terrible.  Unless you are Rick Reilly, Tyler Perry or Jessie Eisenberg (quirky Jewish character actors are Hollywood gold. See: Ben Stiller), you wake up in the morning, slam your fist down on your alarm clock and do one of two things: wish for a swift, painless, carbon monoxide filled death or hope that you can make it through the day without having to drink a fifth of scotch.  This is all without adding being in a wheelchair into the equation.  When we go to sporting events we get  excited at the prospect of having great seats for the possibility of a chance encounter with a player, or perhaps a souvenir.  When we see a highlight reel and a spectator falls while going after a foul ball or a football coach gets knocked over by the continuation of a play, we get to say laugh because we know they at least had a chance at avoiding it.  Why?  Because their legs work.

Cue this past Saturday's little "Oh dear God, oh no -he's not slowing down, oh shit -nooooo!!" gem. Florida Gator defensive back Will Hill made a play on a ball against a Kentucky wide receiver and ended up absolutely destroying a man in a wheelchair who was on the sideline.  

Let's run down a list of reasons why God hates this guy, based on a holistic appraisal of this event:

1. The guy is in a wheelchair, and you can tell it's not because he broke a leg or any other fairly innocuous reason.  See how the wheels are slightly tilted inward?  That's a real deal wheelchair.  He's not messing around.  Probably starts for his local wheelchair basketball team and averages at least a double-double.  

2. He was probably invited to the game as part of some Make-A-Wish foundation thing and it was made even better when he arrived at the game thinking he would be sitting in the mezzanine section only to find out -"Your dreams have come true.  You are going to be on the actual sideline with the Gators." 

3. Tebow left last year. 

4.  Check the picture. Notice the arrow.  See how Will Hall's stinky, sweaty junk is basically wrapping this guy up in a testicle blanket? Seriously.  That's at least a half of sweat fermenting in there.

5. He doesn't even help the guy up. That deserves select period placement for emphasis because Hall leaves the guy on his back, writhing like a an overturned beetle (or Rex Ryan) completely unable to get up on his own. 

He. Doesn't. Even. Help. The. Guy. Up.

Seriously? I want to give a Chris Carter "C'mon man!!" to the man upstairs (because we know that if you are on the sidelines of a Gator home game, you are a devout Christian) for this.  

I feel like giving this guy a big hug, telling him everything is going to be all right and buying him a drink, but I'm sure after this hit he's also lost the use of his arms.

Chris Rainey Knows What You Did Last Summer

Florida Gator wide receiver Chris Rainey (JR) has apparently entered a plea deal with the Florida state attorney's office after being charged with stalking and sending threatening texts to a former lady friend. One alleged text in the case read, "Time to Die."

The deal stipulates that if Rainey promises to do some community service, donate some funds to a domestic violence center and stop all the darn stalking, the charges will be dropped.

When asked about the case and Rainey's current status with the team, Coach Urban Meyer answered, "Rainey? Rainey?...hmm, name rings a bell. But to be frank I literally have 15 kids charged with something this year. It's hard to keep track. I need to prepare for 'Bama."

Rick Reilly Rites Retardry

Rick Reilly filed his column for ESPN.com today. As usual, it's nothing so much as a reminder that, due to the rapid growth of technology over the last decade plus, we're really hurting for a phrase to replace the quickly-becoming-obsolete "phoning it in". Let's give him the FJM-lite treatment, shall we?

A "complisult" is half-compliment, half-insult. It's not until you're driving home in your Prius that a complisult slaps you across the cheek.

"I'd rather read a Rick Reilly column than have a Prius run over my dick."

Is that a good one? I'll see if I can refine this as we get deeper into the column.

A few complisults:

"You're so pretty. I'll bet you used to model, am I right?"

Watch and learn as Reilly breaks down a haggard MILF's confidence so he can swoop in and drop the hammer.

"You drive the coolest minivan in the neighborhood!"

I see you have children. ... I have children too.

"The weight you've gained in your face looks good. Takes out the creases."

and, speaking of creases... hey-yo!


Complisults are key to getting in your digs without getting your nose flattened into a tortilla for you.

mmm, let me fill that deliciously retarded metaphor with sour cream and tomatoes, thereby making it SUPREMEly retarded.

During football season, complisulting is essential. For instance, if you're sitting on a stool at your favorite sports bar this Sunday and a stranger plops down next to you in the wrong jersey, you need one ready. For instance …

To an Eagles fan: "Not a lot of teams would give a convicted felon control of their team..."

Um. Or any black guy.

To a Colts fan: "Hey, at least you won't have to go through that whole 'Should we rest our starters or go undefeated?' thing again this year!"

ZING! Your team has only put up two huge blowouts out of the three games played to date this year... ZING ZANG ZONG.

To a Packers fan: "With Favre gone, it must feel good to be out of the glare of the national spotlight."

Wait, the of whom are we speaking? The... Groin Boy Parkers? The Grain Bail Plookers? I am unfamiliar with this team. Perhaps they are only covered regionally or something.

To a Patriots fan: "Hey, at least nobody can accuse you guys of cheating to win anymore."

Or, I guess you could be accused of unsuccessfully cheating? By the way, on a scale of 1 to 10, how tedious is this column? I give it a 9.zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

To a Saints fan: "Saints fans are lucky. You can cheer for Reggie Bush with no reservations."

Not sure I get the reference here. Does this have something to do with the fact that Reggie recently gave back the Heisman due to allegations that he accepted improper payments while a college athlete, thereby implicating him as the only college athlete to ever accept improper payments ever?

To a Texans fan: "Must be great having your Januaries free."

To a major ESPN columnist: "Must be great having your evenings free because you put like 5 seconds of thought, total, into your daily work output."

To a Ravens fan: "I really admire Ray Lewis. Is this the year he's eligible for the Hall of Fame?"

Yes, actually. Lewis has just recently passed the five year eligibility requirement to be inducted into the Accessory to Murder Hall of Fame.

To a Titans fan: "For the life of me, I just can't understand why you guys don't win more!"

To an ESPN columnist: "For the life of me, I just can't understand why you don't pad out your columns with more generic one-liners in order to address all 32 NFL teams and weakly crawl over the finish line."

To a Giants fan: "When your quarterback is the second-most talented Manning, you're doing pretty good."

Well, obviously someone has never seen Cooper tapdance.

To a Falcons fan: "You guys were in a Super Bowl, right? A long time ago?"

Ray Lewis would just like to mention here that no, he wasn't there that time. That was Eugene Robinson, and it wasn't murder, it was just soliciting an undercover officer posing as a prostitute, and if Ray Lewis had been there hanging out with Eugene Robinson and Eugene Robinson had happened to murder someone, Ray Lewis wouldn't have seen shit.

To a Bucs fan: "You know, there's a lot of players I don't like. But I can't think of a single player on your team that comes to mind."

Either your team has nice people on it or I am not familiar with the players on your team, which impugns their caliber as opposed to my NFL knowledge.

Top of my head, five players on the Bucs:

Cadillac Williams
Mike Williams
Josh Freeman
Ronde Barber
Kellen Winslow

And if it's me that sits down next to you, you can always say: "Wow, you always think of columns that nobody else would do!"

Or: "Wow, I can't fucking believe you have a job, you cocksucker."

Is that not a good complisult? Shit. I suck at this.

Welcome Back Football.

We're more excited than Ben Roethlisberger at an Oklahoma women's basketball party that football season is upon us. It's been a long summer of toiling in the barren fields of baseball, where we have to romance the shit out of the sport and pretend to care about things like batting averages, RBIs and division leads to make it bearable while understanding that it really is just a way to stave off depression between February and August.  That is all but forgotten now. Everything is ok.  Life is back in balance.  Fantasy football phone applications have been downloaded.  Justin Forsett has been drafted in 14 team leagues.  Spikes in cholesterol have been seen nationwide.  Sales of anti-depressants have all but stopped. Guiltless Saturday and Sunday binge drinking has returned. Six-game parlays are in play.  Thank you football.  Thank you.