Vontae Davis perfects the Irish exit

Vontae Davis told the Bills he was just stepping out for some air, before the screeching of his car tires echoed through the locker room as the former pro-bowl cornerback weighed his options and decided fleeing the premises was the best course for his professional career.

In easily the best highlight of the young NFL season, the Buffalo Bills are so soul crushingly awful that former pro-bowl cornerback Davis told the team he was retiring at halftime. The Bills are so terrible Davis couldn’t even bother to pretend to care about the game anymore, he couldn’t bother to pretend to even be hurt and hang out on the sidelines for the rest of the game before announcing his retirement later on this week.

The very thought of strapping his pads on again and squeezing his head into that Bills helmet made him so sick to his stomach that he just said fuck it, I’m leaving.

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In another “Sliding Doors” reality, the Eagles traded for Mariota and the city is miserable

If you’ve never seen the 1998 Gwyneth Paltrow classic “Sliding Doors” you’re doing yourself quite the disservice. The movie focuses on a woman rushing to catch a train in the London tube (because this movie is so very properly British), and follows separate realities of the woman based on if she had caught or missed the train.

SPOILER: She dies in one of the realities and lives in the other. I don’t remember which one, but despite what you’re all thinking she is not hit by a train in one of the realities. That would have made for a better movie, but who am I criticize the creative choices of Ms. Paltrow?

Either way, it explores an interesting wrinkle I’m sure we’ve all thought about. What if we had taken another career path? What if we had stayed at that party for another 15 minutes and met our soulmate instead of leaving early to go home and drink by ourselves and pass out on our couch at 1 a.m.?

Watching Marcus Mariota bumblefuck his way around the field on Sunday against a piece of garbage Miami Dolphins team and throw bad pass after bad pass made me stop for a moment and consider the path of the Eagles franchise if chubby, no-huddle guru Chip Kelly had actually pulled the trigger on a deal to bring Mariota to the Eagles before the 2015 draft.

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If you booed the Eagles you’re a real dope

Chase Utley put it best, booing Eagles fans.

“Boo? Fuck you.”

This wasn’t Chip Kelly running sweeps with DeMarco Murray out of the shotgun for a 2-yard-loss every first down. This wasn’t Andy Reid blowing another NFC Championship. This wasn’t the Eagles losing 42-0 to the Seahawks.

No. This was the defending Super Bowl champions getting booed by a smattering of morons (just a smattering, but an AUDIBLE smattering on the broadcast) after just one half of regular season football seven months after the franchise finally won us a Super Bowl.

No. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

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The Eagles fan base was so much better when we were all miserable

Have you ever heard a cat puke? It’s truly horrifying. They begin by making a wet, shrieking gagging noise that reverberates through every inch of your home. It’s followed by a tremendously loud and moist “HORK HORK HORK” noise of the puke physically making its way up their gullet, capped off by a delightful “YEHHHHHHHHHSHHHH” as a days worth of cat food, hair, and licked shit from their asshole is spilled all over your throw rug that is NOT 6-INCHES AWAY FROM THE HARDWOOD FLOOR.

I’d much rather listen to my cat puke his brains out than ever hear this piece of shit Eagles music video ever again.

Go ahead. Give a listen to Go Go Gadjet’s newest hit, “No One Likes Us / Fly Eagles Fly.”

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Life is for the living. Death is for the dead. The Phillies are for the wretched

“It is time,” a gravelly voice says from the back of the clubhouse. Alone, Gabe Kapler looks up, startled. The players had long since left the clubhouse, returning to their hotels, hoping to sleep before facing the reality of tomorrow, of another the swinging blade inching closer to their prone bodies. The manager had stayed long after the last player had cleared out, his head in his hand, staring at nothing, at everything, wondering how it had all gone downhill so very, very fast.

But he was no longer alone. The shrouded figure moved closer, almost gliding, its robe unrustled, unmoving as he shortened the gap between himself and the fearful manager. The figure extended a bony, pale white hand to an ashen Kapler, looming over the coach, the sharpened blade of a sickle dangerously dangling over his head.

“It is time,” the figure simply repeated.

“I’m dead?!” Kapler asked.

“No. It is time for this season to end,” the figure said calmly, its face obscured by the tattered hood that hung loosely about the deity. Light, color, everything was seemingly absorbed into the hood, drawn into the nothingness. Nothing escaped from the abyss behind the hood.

“But, we have another month and a half left. There is so much left to be done, so much I wanted to do. I wanted to bat Kingery in the cleanup position at least once,” Kapler said.

“The end waits for no season. I’m afraid this is quite final, and no amount of lineup tinkering is going to turn this around,” the figure said.

“I….I challenge you to a game of chess! One game. One more chance to get this right, to keep our hopes alive,” Kapler stammered.

“Very well,” the figure sighed.

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The 2018 Phillies are the unwanted, unloved red-headed step-child of Philadelphia

It’s Christmas morning in the City of Philadelphia. The Eagles unwrap one of the huge, festive boxes at their feet and squeal with glee. It’s a PS4. It will go perfect with the XBox One. The 76ers scream in happiness as the city presents them with a new 52-inch flat-screen television for their room.

The Phillies are gifted a nondescript, manila envelope containing a $50 check made out to cash.

Nobody even remembers to wake the Flyers up. Nobody cares about the Flyers.

Oh those poor Phillies. A game out of first place, already eclipsed the win total from 2017, and it’s like it doesn’t even matter. Why lavish any attention on the runt of the litter when the golden boys, the favored children, the HEIRS to the Philadelphia empire, are around?

It’s not fair. The Phillies are talented. They’re competing. They should be loved and adored. Instead, they’re asked to take care of “this mess” while the Eagles and 76ers get to play with their new toys.

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Angelo Cataldi-Bot 2.0 needs his programming updated

You’d think the 94 WIP programmers in charge of keeping Angelo Cataldi-Bot 2.0 current would have given him a much needed software update after the Eagles won their first Super Bowl against the Patriots this past February.

Hook him up to the computer, download the latest patch to keep him churning for another year, and let’s at LEAST get some new, incorrect takes from this dinosaur.

Here is is assessment from last night’s loss to the Patriots. Bear in mind, this is the preseason. It means absolutely nothing.

Huh….wha? Didn’t the Eagles win a Super Bowl? Are we really turning on this team, this coach, TWO GAMES INTO THE PRESEASON?

Well, ok. Let’s be honest though, Angelo is a professional sports analyst. Maybe he’s seeing something that we’re not? Maybe we should be worried going into this year?

I’m sure Angelo didn’t share the same worries in the 2017 preseason, right? He, of all people, surely saw that Doug Pederson had this team trending in the right direction?

Let’s see what he had to say last year after the jump.

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