At some point, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow … maybe long after the memory has faded, maybe when the NFL no longer includes any kicking, the NFL will do the unthinkable – it will elect Eli Manning into the Pro Football Hall of Fame. This act, which is inevitable, will simply be the latest piece of graphic evidence proving that the NFL HOF (and all other sports halls for that matter) is really just the hall of average.
So a billionaire walks into a massage parlor. By all accounts a skanky massage parlor in a ghetto Florida suburb. If he really wanted a massage, he probably has a dozen or so massaging professionals working for him. He owns the New England Patriots, therapists of this ilk routinely travel with the team and so if he tends to have a tightness in his gluts, well, he has people for that.
Who would name a professional sports franchise after a building material? Well, a team in something called the Alliance of American Football would … and has. The Birmingham Iron. What’s next, the Petersburg Plastic? Duluth Drywalls, Wyoming Wood, the fuckin’ Butte Bricks? So dumb, but then again the whole idea of a pro football league that’s not spelled N-F-L is a lesson in dumbness.