Crash of the Titans

by the butler

The Sondog and I met an interesting character this weekend. We were just chillin' on my porch drinkin' a couple fingers of Jame-O and taggin' a butt, most likely talking about who we should start or sit this weekend, when a little red bicycle appears suddenly before us. Off jumps Mr. Random Shady Guy. Can't quite remember, but I think that might have actually been his name.

"Hey man, can I borrow a piece a paper man, and a pen man? I just need to leave my buddy a note..."

Sure. I go in to get pen and paper. No prob Bob.

Uh-oh....he wants to hang and chat.

Talking about the weather can only burn about thirty seconds. Not nearly enough time to quench Shady Red Bike's appetite for companionship. No, no. His mission is to rob us of at least ten entire minutes. Which, by the way, is way longer than it takes to smoke a cig. When an awkward situation calls for actual conversation with Mr. Shady Guy, one subject and one subject only will suffice. Yup. Pigskin baby.

It was Thursday, and the 'Ol Ball Coach was looking to upset Auburn. So naturally, that's what we start talking about with Shade. Our boy proceeds to deliver his life history as a football fan, which actually didn't waste much time. However, the mental picture that was burned into my head of "my buddy, who used to watch the NY Giants and the Rangers at the same time, in bed, in his underwear...with nothing but a bottle of Pepto...and that's why I had to become a Giants fan" was a little overboard. I'm pretty sure Son is still suffering with that as well. I will probably have to be hypnotized to forget it.

"Hey man, what about some tape?" the crazy bastard says as he is about to leave, having no idea that he just ruined our evening with all that crazy Pepto underwear nonsense.

I sit there for a second, wondering if this jack ass actually just asked me for scotch tape. Like crackhead Felisha on Friday, axin' Smokey and Craig to borrow the car....

"Some people wanna barrah sugar, maybe e'en ketchup...butchoo wanna borrow my car? Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelllll Naaaaaaw!"
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Unlike our friend Shady, I am a Titans fan. I wasn't fortunate enough to have a Pepto-guzzling friend of mine inspire me to choose a certain team. I grew up lonely in Tennessee, admiring Walter Payton and Da Bears, Joe Montana and the 49ers, but never actually claiming a favorite team. And then the great year of 1997 came along, and with it came the Tennessee Titans baby! I guess that will work for now. I remember when they came at first, playing in Memphis as the Oilers(which was kind of dumb), finally moving to Nashvegas in 1999.

Even though I knew Bud Adams was an ass...

(after blowing an NFL record 35-3 lead in the playoffs to back-up QB Frank Reich's Bills, Adams gave the '93 Oilers an ultimatum - make the Super Bowl or Adams would break up the team. That year the Oilers went 12-4, but lost in the second round of the playoffs to the Chiefs. The following year Adams had Warren Moon traded to the Vikes and the Oilers went 2-14)

...I was thrilled to have a team I could call my own. And they were already GOOD! The first official season as the Titans brought more treasures than most fans could hope for in a decade; including a still-standing franchise best 13-3 record, followed by Frankie Wycheck's famous Music City Miracle against the Bills, capped off by a heartbreaking loss to the Greatest Show on Turf - with Kevin Dyson tackled with an outstretched football on the one. Wow.

Talk about being spoiled, I felt like I had stolen something. It was just like the Diamondbacks in baseball. The Red Sox and Cubs hadn't won a series in over five thousand years, and the Diamondbacks throw a championship squad together a few months. Surely the solar system will be thrown off track by all of this, stars will collide, black holes will form, and the world will end very soon, right?

The next few years, however, brought continued success for the Titans. When I lived in Nashville I couldn't even get tickets unless I knew someone with season tix that wasn't going to the game, which never happened.

Then came...(gasp)

SALARY CAP HELL!!!!

If I remember correctly, it all started with the signing of Randall "friggin" Godfrey, a hot middle linebacker, as a free agent from the Cowboys. We signed him to a five year deal, then had to realease him after the '03 season because of the damn cap. He wasn't the only one, either.

Wycheck retired in January of '04 because of continued concussion problems. Our cap woes claimed Jevon "the Freak" Kearse, Lorenzo Neal, John Thornton, Samari Rolle, Anchor tackle Fred Miller, Derrick Mason, Kevin Carter, Joe Nedney, Lance Shulters, Andre Dyson, Eddie George, and then this year's grand finale, Steve "Air" McNair. (But hey, we've got Volek...oh wait)

Before the 2005 season started, the Titans had only five players left from the 1999 Super Bowl Team. Offensive linemen Benji Olsen, Brad Hopkins(since retired), Zach Piller, Steve McNair(yup), and franchise punter Craig Hentrich.

Now we just have um, yeah, ummm Benji, Zach, and yes, the freakin' punter. Nice work front office.

Now you've got a couple of complete idiots starting a firecoachfisher.com site. I mean dumb people are in this world (I actually just took a break to leave a scathing comment on that site). You don't have to look far to find out how good of a coach Fisher is. Most of his peers would count him in the top five in the NFL.

And then there's this year. Shameful and pissed of, I am. Haynesworth basically tried to kill a guy on the field Sunday. It just makes me sick watching the highlight. Kerry Collins should have never been allowed to put on a Titans jersey. He looks gay as hell in it. Chris Brown was born injured. Of course Travis Henry is not going to turn around the running game. Did we really pick Tyrone Calico in the second round? Do you think Pac-Man will ever be able to defend a pass? But hey, if we were in the National Barfighting League we would kick ass. I'm not sure any team is even close to being as doomed as we are this year. Well maybe the Raiders.

I just miss those days when I could talk trash to my Colt fan buddies who are queer and like the Colts because Peyton went to the University of Tennessee. Wasn't too long ago we were smoking them every year. Usually twice. I hate Peyton with his laser, rocket arm.

Oh how the mighty have fallen...