The NFL's Dallas Cowboys replaced Drew Bledsoe, their starting QB from the beginning of the season (who was washed up 5 years ago and was playing this season imitating a statue and with a giant salad for sticking out of his back) with their former backup QB Tony Romo several weeks ago. Since he became the starter, Romo has provided the team a desperately needed spark, earned a spot in this year's Pro Bowl and has led the Cowboys on a run that might end with them as division champions. Drew Bledsoe is a professional and has said all the right things about being replaced and the team succeeding in his absence...but what if that weren't the case? The blog below is what Drew Bledsoe (or any other athlete who has ever been replaced for that matter) would say if he could, and I haven't stopped laughing yet. There's a definite language alert in effect, and I've posted the text of the first substantive entry below...now go read already, there's hilarity afoot. :)
It Begins.
"I just can't shake the image of that play out of my mind's eye. I woke up this morning in the same bed I woke up yesterday morning. Same physical body, but mentally I am a completely different person. I am a back up. This feeling is oddly familiar. 6 AM, I need to sleep more. I close my eyes.
I take the snap. I see Terry (I call him Terry because we're teammates) make a quick out, running away from me. I can't stand it. I open my eyes. I can't sleep. I toss and turn. If only I can move this well in the pocket. Ha ha. I'm so self deprecating -- but in a good way. I need more rest. I close my eyes.
Terry opens his hands, I release the ball. Tight spiral. Touchdown. We're going into this half with a lead. But then out of nowhere... Sam Fucking Madison appears. I open my eyes. I wonder if Buffalo needs a QB. Losman? More like Lost-Man. Haha, Nice. 6:15 AM. I still can't sleep.
You know, I told Jerry before the game, "Should we really paint the endzone the same shade of blue as the Giants uniforms? It can't seem like a good idea to camoflauge their defenders..." He told me not to worry about it. I wonder what that means...I close my eyes.
Sam Madison picks off my, otherwise flawless, pass, tip toes his way outta bounds. One foot in. Two feet in. Shit. Three feet in. Four. Okay, stop showing off, dickface, I get it. Five feet in. I wanna puke. I don't remember much after that. I know there was a second half. I spent the majority of it sorta glazing off into outer space, mulling over the best way to write my first blog entry. I was a creative writing minor at Washington State, remember. So this is it. My first of many blog entries. I think it'll keep me entertained and alive... I know I've got pretty much nothing else to live for. I hope you stick around. Oh, and as for the name, TonyRomo.com was taken, so I just chose this one. Also, that faggot stole my starting job."
