The first last straw came early last season when tape surfaced of Ray Rice knocking his fiancé out like Debo in an elevator. On Sept. 9, 2014, I gave up the NFL and its sponsors for good. Well, kind of for good. Knowing full well that I could only avoid the NFL like a Smurf does Gargamel for so long, I kept a spreadsheet and gave to a local women’s shelter one dollar for each slip up (total donation at season’s end: $167).
This year, I find myself back in the NFL fold. Without even trying, I’m signed up for a pair of fantasy leagues. I’m craving more articles like this about how terrible individual franchises are. I’m totally looking the other way with Pink Month. And I’m turning to Hard Knocks late night instead of Topless Prophet. I mean, I get it, JJ Watt is a big man. But how big is he really?
In other words, I gave in.
NFL, I wish I knew how to quit you:
So what kind of terrible does the NFL have to do to—in fact—lose me forever?
The NFL endorses Donald Trump: I mean that basically turns off their
fastest-growing most tolerant fan base. If the league backed Trump, at least we’d get him maybe doing a funny teaser ‘firing’ of Roger Goodell prior to the season opener.
The NFL awards Los Angeles franchise to ISIS: This would be pretty bad. Though I’m not sure ISIS would do any worse a job than the York family. Guaranteed fewer beheadings.
The NFL expands to Europe and Mexico for players-as-drug-mule purposes only: Can running balloons full of heroine through TSA be any worse for a third-string guard than getting his head smashed in 19 weeks a year for the league minimum and no retirement?
The NFL opens a water theme park in my backyard: This would pretty much suck. I hate water theme parks and I don’t want one close to my home. The good news is maybe Tom Brady would come over.
The NFL releases a statement denying the Holocaust: (Tie) …The other one is the NFL comes in, sits on my couch and beats me at Mario Kart while spitting white supremacist rhetoric and reciting Rick Ross lyrics.
The NFL offers fans the same HGH and performance-enhancers its players use for an ‘more immersive game day experience’: Imagine how many beers I could drink, racks of ribs I could down and cheerleaders I could ogle if I could just take something that would shorten my lifespan by three decades and make me grow hooves.
All NFL officials are registered sex offenders: At least Jared Fogle could then find gainful employment again someday.
The NFL lets Adrian Peterson play again, no strings attached: Wait, you mean he’s playing? This year? Let me check my draft board—I’m feeling third-round sleeper. …As an aside, my (second) favorite off-season All Day update was when he grand marshalled a parade in his hometown and the crowd chanted “Fuck the haters!” NFL fans have the market cornered on all the classy.
Super Bowl 50 turns the field at Levi’s Stadium into a big game preserve at halftime: All the owners and some A-list celebrities (Kim Jong-un, Danny Bonaduce, Shifty Shellshock…Kevin Jonas) go on an endangered species hunt, preferably for koalas, pandas, killer whales and any of Cecil’s remaining cubs.
TV time outs mean only For the Love of Benji clips can be showed on the scoreboard: Sorry, wrong list. This was accidentally imported from ‘20 Things the NFL Can Do to Right Now to Enhance My Experience’. Damn you Google Docs.
Every NFL player gets caught in a gang bang video: Whoops (see: above mix-up.)
The NFL re-boots Indiana Jones, hires back Shia Lebeouf and features Erin Andrews as Marcus: It couldn’t be any worse than ‘Crystal Skulls’…or that one movie where Cate Blanchett played Bob Dylan.