Jason Whitlock wrote his recent piece on Matt Cassel owing Randy Moss for his contract just so he could throw around Jeff George’s name a few times. I’m 100% convinced and nobody will be able to be able to talk me down. I even think Big Sexy’s passion for the Georgester trumps his love of both Gates’ ribs and The Wire (Two things that, unlike George, deserve the affection…the latter spoofed above. I give Jason “Bunk,” even though he looks more like “Prop Joe.”). We haven’t seen a man-crush like this since Stan wrote that letter to Eminem.

Screw that he laughably called Moss “arguably the greatest football player of our lifetime,” ignoring guys like Jerry Rice and Lawrence Taylor in the process. Guys who carried their original teams to championships, instead of not even being able to win one after joining a dynasty. That all gets lost in the shuffle after you see him namedrop J.G. twice. George hasn’t played a tick of the clock since 2001. The only way he’s getting into the Hall of Fame is with a ticket, and given all the bridges he burned in the NFL that might not even work. None of that matters to Jason.  He mentions George more on a monthly basis than both the mainstream media and blogosphere do combined. Hell, I’m not sure ESPN is as obsessed with a certain No. 4 as Whitlock is with the former mulleted maniac.

As far as Whitlock’s comments on Cassel, those are off base, too. He fails to mention how Brady also rode the bench in both college and the pros before he blossomed when the Pro Bowler in front of him went down with an injury. He fails to mention that guys like Randall Cunningham, Jeff George, Kerry Collins, Chad Pennington and, yes, even Daunte Culpepper all had more college or pro experience (usually both) than Cassel did when they inherited Moss as their primary target. Cassel also did a much better job of finding Moss deep late in the season. Also, it’s hard to throw the long ball when you get sacked 47 effin’ times. At least Whitlock refrained from calling Cassel the next Scott Mitchell, like fellow M&M-bodied talking head Jamie Dukes has recently.

Regardless, I’m not sure how seriously Whitlock even thought over what he wrote about Cassel and Moss, or if he even cared how those sentiments went over with readers. His real objective here was to ramble about his boyhood friend turned boy toy Jeff George. Jason, you can have your man crush. That’s fine. But from here on out keep your BFF in the closet. This is turning into a PDA situation, and nobody likes that. Maybe you two should get a room? I hear the InterContinental down on the Plaza is nice.

(Adam Best is the co blogger-in-Chief of Arrowhead Addict. Follow him daily via RSS feed and Twitter.)

Brodie Croyle’s only hope to be a star in Kansas City is if the Chiefs and Royals suck so bad simultaneously that they create a black hole at the sports complex that is only reversed by David Glass and Clark Hunt simultaneously joining their open wallets together like Voltron creating the Kansas City Chroyles a merger of the Chiefs and Royals; a shittiest of the shitty combination of KC suck with Brodie Croyle as the pitcher and quarterback that always gets hurt the first game of the season.

Just think, the Chroyles could out-build Famous Dave’s Arrowhead Stadium* so big that it could encompass the K. For SuperBowl and ad considerations, we’ll shape the roof like a weber grill, even with a vent that open up in a circle to shine light down to the pitcher’s mound/50 yard line to illuminate our star pitcher/quarterback Brokie Croyle and Garth Brooks the next time he comes to town. Hell, we can have a golf cart with a spatula on the front, The Spatula-Mobile, come scrape Brokie off the field at each opener!

Local Radio Commercial in KC soon:

“Hai y’all, I’m Brodie Croyle, when I ain’t pitchin’ or playin’ quarterback for the Chroyles I do my shoppin’ for ammo, decoys and Ben Gay at Bass Pro Shop!”

Quick Hitters:

• 3 starting QB’s in the first 3 games has only happened 3 times…ever. (Guess good things don’t happen in 3′s.)

• A Chiefs-drafted QB hasn’t won a regular season game for us since ’83. (Dang 3′s)

• “Chiefs Apathy” from fans will do more damage than “Harm“* Edwards ever will.

• Watching the Chiefs play-honestly, I haven’t missed the halfback pass this bad since Tecmo Bowl.

*Harm = Herm, henceforth.
**I know Famous Dave’s isn’t HQ’d in KC- Carl will sell out to an out-of-stater in a panic after seeing the ticket sales report.

QB Carousel:

Week One
So we begin the season vs New England with Brokie Croyle, Brokie gets broke-ed in the first game. He beat my prediction of getting injured in the Denver Game by 2 games. Huard comes in and stinks too. Throw in a case of the dropsies by D-Bo and that’s L soup. “No Win for you!”

Week Two
Superbowl Ring Owner Damon “RainMan” Huard starts game two against what looked to be a totally hapless Oakland team that Denver embarrassed the week before. “RainMan” gets a phantom “head injury” that isn’t released until much later in the game. Harm Edwards decides to play Marques Hagans fresh off the practice squad along with boner-rific Tyler Thigpen who “set all kinda records” at Coastal Carolina University (which had just started football five years prior.) All you need to know is about 39 comments on “Worst Moment”

Week 3
Atlanta, a preseason pick for the worst team in the league, has started 1-1. Thigpen starts and accidentally hands off to the rushing Atlanta defender for 6. Hagans comes in and gets booed because the Atlanta crowd mistakes him for Michael Vick because he never throws and his tats. We do something that rhymes with “news”. Hint? It starts with “L”.

(more…)

At this rate, Whitlock will still be trying to get George an NFL quarterbacking gig when I’m 40 (a little over a decade). Give it up, “Big Sexy.” Your boy is a bust, and you were wrong (that’s the bigger issue to you anyway). Coulda, shoulda, woulda–didn’t. Let George move on with his new life, where he’s the spokesperson for the National Mullet Association.

I can’t believe I actually stuck up for you a little while ago. This is how you repay me? Thanks a lot. Now I’m going to have to enter the Whitlock Protection Program and hand over A.A. to the rest of the staff. Just great. Your George mancrush just turned me into the sportsblogging version of Henry Hill.

From the Kansas City Star (I can’t believe they let him even print this garbage):

Coach Belichick, I know the game. It’s a gift from the football gods.

I warned you that if you played Brady against the Chiefs, he might suffer an injury to his leg or knee. I told you that Matt Cassel was good enough to beat the Chiefs.

Look, I’m not writing you this follow-up letter to gloat. I like you. I’m a big fan. I’m trying to hand you the advantage I’ve tried to give to Carl Peterson and the Chiefs for years.

You need Jeff George.

Don’t laugh. Pick the newspaper back up. Keep reading. You didn’t listen to me last week, and what happened?

You need Jeff George. Yes, that Jeff George, the No. 1 pick in the 1990 draft, the guy who tongue-lashed June Jones in Atlanta, had one great season in Oakland and Minnesota before falling victim to Marty Schottenheimer’s wrath in Washington.

Yes, I know Jeff George hasn’t thrown a pass in an actual NFL game since 2001 and hasn’t been on a roster since Lovie Smith and the Bears let him go at the end of the 2005 season.

You do realize that Todd Collins went six years without starting an NFL game before leading Washington to three victories last season? You realize Todd Collins was never as good as Jeff George?

You realize even at age 40 and having lived in football exile for three years, Jeff George still has one of the five best arms in the game? Oh, he can still wing it with the best of them. He’s in great shape. He’s ready to go right now.

Bill, I’m not crazy. Yes, I’m in the tank for Jeff George. We grew up together on the east side of Indianapolis, and we take loyalty very, very seriously.

He’s not perfect. He mishandled his career and talent. But the dude is 40 now and still wants to play. He can get the ball to Randy Moss and stretch a defense.

It’s time to euthanize this fool, at least professionally. We all get attached to guys (like yours truly and Bobby Sippio), but this has become a personal salvation project. No Chiefs fan or Kansas Citian wants to read about your over-the-hill sugar pie signal caller. Then again, maybe if you do coax a team to sign him you’ll end up leaving town to cover your boy? Hmmm…

Whatever happens, you may haved dubbed Carl Peterson “King Carl,” but I’m giving you a new moniker–Jason the Jester. Hey, every royal court needs one. For you, I bet we can even get that tightwad to splurge on your new clown costume. 4XL, right?