posted on January 17, 2013 07:00
How sweet it is! Sometimes you wake up with a boner…and sometimes you wake up with somebody sitting on that boner.
When Notre Dame was exposed in the National Championship game, that was my equivalent of waking up with wood. On Wednesday evening, Manti Te’o sat on that wood – and my world just got that much better.
There are roughly 713,422-things that I loathe in this world, with Elvis Presley, the Dallas Cowboys and the Fighting Irish surely occupying spots in the top-10, and for many of the same reasons. All are overrated and hail from shithole cities, while also being, with the exception of Elvis, largely consistent of a fair-weather fan base and propelled by a relentless media.
Notre Dame fans lie in wait, for decades on this occasion, for their team to be somewhat relevant, and then dig out their dusty gear or rush out to buy new shit and run it through the wash 7-times to give that appearance of age.
This year’s team brought them that chance to once again claim their “lifelong” allegiance. The team was winning and was lead by a charismatic, impactful linebacker, Manti Te’o, with a heart-wrenching story. This poor, young man had experienced not only the loss of his grandmother, but also his beautiful girlfriend…ON THE SAME DAY, whose young life was snatched away by the horror that is leukemia. He then went out and played an incredible game on the day they would be laid to rest, inspiring a team and a country.
We are undoubtedly a land of suckers just waiting on some spinner bait to flash before our eyes and take the bait. Here it was and we pounced. The story broke a nation’s heart and helped propel Te’o to an eventual finish of second (or first “L”oser) in the Heisman Trophy race. Notre Dame had its’ new “Rudy”, and this one actually had talent and a story that wouldn’t have to be 90%-made up to capture an audience.
Just hold the phone there, Junior. Chuck Norris forbid anybody bother to question something as horrible as a dead girlfriend or do some simple searching for validity when it occurred. We love a fucking feel-good tale and sure as hell aren’t going to ruin this, what with the beloved Irish racing to a #1 ranking AND place in the hearts of all of their so-called “fans”.
Now it comes out that this entire girlfriend fiasco was as fraudulent as not only Notre Dame’s ranking was exposed to be, but as the allegiance of their sofa-dwelling followers and their convenience-store-bought coffee mugs they prance around the fucking office whenever a winning record is attained. This broad was as nonexistent as Manti’s defensive impact in the Alabama game.
There’s a whole lot more to come out about this bullshit and we’ll likely find out whether Te’o is an emotionally ill, blatant liar or a poor sap duped by some cruel and elaborate hoax. He maintains that the relationship was mainly online and by telephone, but also asserts an initial meeting at a Stanford football game.
The web will unweave and, for anti-ND assholes like myself, it will be a joy to behold. The university is backing their quickly fading star and Manti maintains his stance of being the victim of some horrible joke…and apparently a giant fucking idiot. Perhaps he’ll sit down with Oprah and come clean in about 15-years, albeit with 2-balls intact.
Making up girlfriends isn’t a new thing by any stretch. It’s been going on since Brian was banging “many girls in the Niagara Falls area” on The Breakfast Club and my friend Jerry was carrying around the photo of some broad that came with a wallet he purchased…true story.
The scariest part of this story would be if he actually IS the victim. Not scary because he’s that stupid, but scary because a man of his caliper still felt the need to resort to the goddamned internet for companionship. I didn’t grow up in the internet age and managed to do my share of fucking, despite looking or being built ANYTHING like Manti Te’o. If a star athlete with professional aspirations and the body of Adonis has to meet what he thinks is internet pussy, what’s that leave you message boarders out there?
It’s one thing when some dentally-challenged farm boy on “Catfish” is convinced that Kari Ann Peniche, a former Miss Teen USA winner and participant in a threesome involving Eric “McSteamy” Dane himself, actually wants to fuck his inbred ass (real episode), but the Prom King, star QB-type? C’mon.
No word on what this does to Manti’s professional dreams and no word on whether or not Geraldo will be exhuming grandma on a primetime special (OUCH – I know). The NFL has looked beyond FAR MORE character flaws than being a ridiculous fool or attention-seeking liar – hell, that’s practically a prerequisite. What they may not look beyond is that Alabama performance.
Thank you, Manti, for making my Wednesday, and I sincerely mean that. College football will move on and Irish fans will box up the blue and gold and don a Cowboy’s star.
Notre Dame still has its’ newest “Rudy” and a movie may yet be made. It just went from a blockbuster with Ryan Gosling in the lead to a TNT-production starring Mario Lopez…and no need to cast a girlfriend.
Tay-o! Taaaayyy-o! Deadspin come, Te’o want to go home…KMFP-out!
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