If you mean a small, smelly creature who eats garbage and makes terrible cheese, yes. If you mean the greatest quarterback of all time, Hell no!
In light of the heinous transgressions that transpired during Championship weekend for the 2018 NFL season, fans and sports pundits have both posed the question as to whether Tom Brady of the New England Patriots is the GOAT. For those not in the know, this doesn’t refer to the small barnyard creature, though you’d be forgiven for thinking so for both are miserable creatures! What “GOAT” stands for is the Greatest Of All Time, and as for my vote is considered, I say HEEEEELLLLL NO, and Brady can shove his five Super Bowl rings right up his crack!
I miiiiiight be willing to grievingly accept Bill Belicheat as the greatest coach ever witnessed, because he schemes like no other save Lex Luthor, but to deem Tom Brady as greatest football player ever is simply insipid, gross, and insulting to my sensibilities.
POINT 1: NEVER fall under the lull of ESPNs delusional narrative manipulation that would diefy the quarterback as a singular force and who blocks, run, catches, and tackles all by himself. To let those clowns tell it, Brady won every Patriot game by himself, and ESPN’s particular propensity for revisionist history means to obscure just how close each of his Super Bowl victories were, either won by way of low stakes field goals or COLOSSAL idiocy on part of the opposition that will haunt the cities of Seattle and Atlanta until Haley’s Comet returns.
POINT 2: The GOAT can NEVER be quarterback who played after the 1990s, when the rules were overwhelming altered to benefit the quarterback above all others. That MAGA lovin’ mook would have simply been MURDERED against the likes of the ’85 Bears, ’90 Giants, or ’93 Cowboys. In a time before defenses were neutered, the referee would be loathed to call a penalty anytime a slight breeze ruffled Tom’s coif, and if he did throw that flag, it would only be so Brady could wipe his own blood off the ball and get his punk behind back into the huddle because the play clock would still be ticking!
Now for a bit of disclosure… For the first half of my life I was a most adamant supporter of the Dallas Cowboys. Believe it or not, there was once a time when they were actually worth a damn. Don’t laugh! It’s true! I done seen it with my own eyes. The Dallas Cowboys were THE mark of excellence across all sports! Alas those days are long gone and will never return, and only live on in the deepest recesses of NFL Films gathering dust.
With that said, if I had to choose the greatest quarterback, my choice would not be “the legendary” Roger Staubach. That loser couldn’t beat the Pittsburgh Steelers in the Super Bowl. Sure he beat the ’77 Denver Broncos, but who gives a crap about them? Nor would I award such accolade to “the great” Troy Aikman, because I can’t respect an athlete who couldn’t run FIVE $%^#& YARDS before pulling a hammy! No, with clenched teeth I would have to give the nod to either Flash Gordon or Joe Montana. Oh how I hated him, but it was an earned hate!
But let me take this second point a step further. A QUARTERBACK can NEVER be the greatest football player of all time! The utter FOUNDATION of the game of football is either holding the ball or trying to bring down the man doing so. Therefore, the greatest PLAYER must be either be a running back or a defender—someone who gets grimy on every play with a dearth of namby pamby rules to protect them!
I present to you, the true GOATs (and there can me more than one, because I have a large barnyard):
Had Jim Brown not retired in his prime in order to make the finest WW2 movie of all time, think of what he could have truly accomplished. Brown achieved more in less games, and remember this was the 1950-60s. You know the white guys on his team barely blocked for him. Hell, they probably tried to help bring him down!
You can’t escape my Dallas favoritism completely. Personal bias is the basis of sports! But I challenge you to name a performance more worthy to be sung in the halls of Valhalla than Smith in the January 2, 1994 playoff game where he beat the New York Giants with literally one arm. Nowadays anyone can do that, because the Giants stink, but in the early 90s it was an impressive feat!
Emmitt Smith holds the record for most yards coming from the backfield, and the numbers for a running back don’t lie. A quarterback is erroneously granted credit for all the yards the wide receiver himself is responsible for before and after the catch, but a running back’s numbers are pure.
Don’t give that “Barry Sanders was a better runner, if he only had the same offensive line Emmitt had…” jive. It’s not Emmitt’s fault that Sanders re-upped with the Lions, when history has forever shown that Detroit has been and will forever be beyond hope. Align yourself with that feckless outfit, and you only have yourself to blame for the inevitable misery that comes with it. And the same goes for Walter Payton. Looks all that Jheri Curl…
No wonder Payton got so many yards—defenders could never get a grip, as he was slick ‘n slippery, slathered in activator!
No defender from the Dallas teams of yore win my vote, because they couldn’t beat the Steelers. No one from the Steelers either, cuz $%*# ‘em! And to that regard, no one from the Raiders, cuz if they would have done their job, the Cowboys wouldn’t have had to mess with the Steelers. It’s the great circle of life!
SWEET BISCUITS AND GRAVY!!! Butkus was just so surly. Watch his segment of NFL Film’s The Top 100 Greatest Players, where he calls a member of the Buffalo Bills an “@$$hole” during the coin toss. That level of disdain is just so genuine and pure, it should have been bottled.
Lawrence Taylor was another one-man wrecking machine. And while high on cocaine no less! As to whether he succeeded in spite of or because of that fact will be endlessly debated as “less filling, taste great.”
Taylor did what Cobra Commander could never do in the 80s—TAKE OUT ALL THE JOES! He knocked out Joe Montana…
Was it? Oh…. well, Marshall only got to him because Montana was distracted worrying about LT. But I’m not mistaken about LT ripping off Joe Theismann’s leg! I know it’s not kind to relish in the injury to even one’s enemies, but it’s also not kind to vehemently torment children. Do you think the locals showed any restraint and compassion and decorum to a meek and defenseless Dallas-rooting kid growing up in the suburbs of Washington DC during the 1980s? You have no idea of that taunts I was subjected to! You can’t fathom the curses I endured. So curses to Theismann. Curses to RGIII. Curses to Alex Smith. Curses to Colt McCoy… CURSES TO YOU ALL!
I suppose I should include a photograph like I did with the others…
Oh I know that’s not LT, but if I had to show a picture of a New York Giant, I figured I’d use one that incorporated one last bit of Brady angst into the proceedings!