The HoG25: The 25 Best Receivers of the Past 25 Years (Part One)

The Iron Triangle of the House of Georges likes to argue. A lot. We bicker over whether that last call was home cookin' or a feat of unbiased umpiring. We quarrel about whose turn it is to buy the next round of drinks. But most of all, we match wits on the topic of greatness: Tony Gwynn or Rickey Henderson? A lifetime supply of disease-free, Playmate-administered meast arousal or a collection of Rickey baseball cards? Average player jersey tuck or HoFer jersey tuck?

The list goes on, and so we three set off on an epic journey, a quest to rank the Top 25 of the past quarter-century in a variety of our favorite sports and cultural topics. Today's lucky target: NFL route runners. If you like what you read, click the HoG25 link at the bottom of the post. Enjoy!



25: Keyshawn Johnson

Old No. 7: It's possible that I've ranked Key a bit too high, we'll see where my colleagues place him. My recollection of him was as a winner, a reliable possession receiver and a big-game stud. But a further examination of his career reveals that he may be wildly overrated (at least by me).

Almost everything Keyshawn did was a major event -- he placed himself as firmly in the public consciousness as one could. He helped bring USC back from mediocrity to relevance, before Pete Carroll finished the job. He was the No. 1 pick in the NFL Draft, something that very few receivers have ever done. He made a huge splash with the Jets when, following a solid-but-hardly-spectacular rookie season, he penned an autobiography titled "Just Give Me The Damn Ball." He was traded to Tampa for a pair of first-round picks, and again to Dallas for Joey Galloway.

These days, with the antics that star receivers employ, this all seems pretty tame. But back in the mid- to late-90s, Keyshawn was a massively magnetic and polarizing force (those two adjectives may not be compatible by the laws of physics). It's quite possible that Key is better in my mind than he was on the field, and that instead of great he was merely very good.

24: Chad Ochocinco

Old No. 7: The name, for the record, is patently ridiculous. I don't even speak Hispanish, but even I know that it oughtta be Ochenta y Cinco. This whole thing is completely out of control, and the fact that he legally changed his name and Ochocinco actually appears on the back of his jersey is one of the stupidest things I've ever seen. He's a buffoon, and an attention whore, but within the current paradigm of annoying receivers he's not so bad.

And, more crucial to why we're here today, he's a damn good receiver. His 9257 yards rank him 38th all-time, and his 56 TDs put him at 71st. He's got a few good years left, and there's a giant jumble of similarly accomplished players right around those figures. Barring major injury, he'll reach the top 20 in yardage and the top 30 in touchdowns, and he'll have a borderline case for the Hall of Fame.

But one of the things you'll see when we compare current NFL receivers to the ones of just one generation ago -- the Fryars and Loftons and Monks and Largents -- is just how much better their numbers are. Because these things are very incremental and kind of sneak up on us, it doesn't seem as though passing statistics are that much different than when we were all kids, but they are. It's staggering. So we have to find a way to subjectively place guys like, I can't even say his name any more it's so moronic, in historical context with players whose numbers are dwarfed by modern stats. Luckily, the House of Georges is stocked with writers who are capable of handling such a weighty responsibility. Or, we just make shit up out of whole cloth. Either way, you're still reading it.

23: Steve Smith

Cecil: Steve Smith seems like a total dick. He's somewhere in the neighborhood of 4 feet tall and clearly has the small man complex, which results in lots of entertainingly self-absorbed sideline ranting and teammate sucker-punching. He also went to the University of Utah. So fuck that guy.

Alas, if only it were that easy -- because Steve Smith can play some footbaw, as Ed Orgeron might say in between swigs of Red Bull.



How is it that such a tiny dude, a receiver built like a 3d down back, can have carved out a position as one of the best deep threats in the game? His body control, for one thing. He adjusts to off-target passes as well as anyone -- and needs to, with Jake "Even I Don't Know What It Was I Just Said" Delhomme throwing him the ball. He's also preternaturally strong and can muscle the ball away from most corners if it's contested. More impressively, though, is that he's been largely the only option for Carolina's passing game his entire career, and still manages to put up the numbers despite near-constant doubling.

So fuck you, Steve Smith, pint-sized egotist. I despise your attitude, your alma mater and your stupid Down's Syndrome-y face, but am forced to recognize your game. Bah.

22: Andre Johnson

Bankmeister: I love me some Andre Johnson. Let’s back up. I hate football players who matriculated at colleges and universities in the state of Florida. Florida football can hurl itself onto rotating chopper props. But how can you not love Andre Johnson? I didn’t really know what to expect when the Houston Texans were begotten. It had been most of a decade since the last expansion and Dom Capers and Tom Coughlin had some surprisingly early success with the Carolina Panthers and Jacksonville Jaguars, respectively. Hell, both of them made conference championships in their second year in existence, but then the Panthers turned into murderers and drunken racists and Capers had to take the fall.

Along comes the Houston franchise, Capers gets plugged in, and the recipe for instant success is set to percolate, right? Wrong. The expansion draft of the Texans was a botched abortion at best, and their drafts since then have only mildly improved, thus their current six-years-sans-winning-season status. They’ve shown some hype, some dazzle, some hope, but it always implodes, and the one consistent has been Andre Johnson. David Carr sack after David Carr sack, coupled with nary a whiff of a running game, Andre Johnson has still managed to make plays and be a pretty awesome number one for this team in six of its seven years in town.

In that span, he’s averaged over 13 yards per catch, 80-plus catches per season, and 1060 yards a year. He hasn’t scored a ton of touchdowns, but he’s put up those numbers with minimal ground games and offensive lines that have, on average, given up just over 41 sacks a season. That’s a lot of bad football right there. Through six weeks of this season, Houston is playing .500 football. They’ve made improvements to this football team all around, and, as it stands now, Johnson is on pace to break all of his single-season highs. Playing tough, high-quality football for a bad team won’t get you into the playoffs, but there’s a consolation prize for ya’, ‘Dre: It’ll get you on our list.

21: Andre Rison

Old No. 7: Many recievers on this list have nicknames. TO. The Playmaker. Murderous Marvin. The San Francisco Treat. It's pretty rare for a well-known guy to have three handles, two of which he gave himself.

Most know him as "Bad Moon" Rison, form the good old days of Bermanisms that were actually pretty tight. Apparently, when he came to Kansas City in 1997, Rison tried to get the locals to call him "Spiderman." Now I don't know about you, but I think guys who give themselves nicknames are pretty lame.

I'm willing to make exceptions, however, because one time Spider-Moon got himself mixed up in a training camp fracas at a Wisconsin watering hole. When the fuzz asked him for his ID, he told them his name was Brock Middlebrook, and Brock Middlebrook is quite possibly the greatest fake name anyone has ever come up with. It's even better than Art Vandelay.

On the field, Brock Spider-Moondelay had serious game, having thrust past the magic 10,000-yard mark over 11 seasons. He just might be the best wide receiver the Chiefs have had since the merger, which tells you more about the Kansas City franchise than Rison's talent. He's one of a long line of stud pass-catchers to matriculate at Michigan State, along with Plaxico Burress, Muhsin Muhammad, Derrick Mason, Mark Ingram, Charles Rogers and Herb Haygood (part of the immortal Doobie Brothers battery with Jeff Smoker). Sure, most of those guys have spent some time in an orange jumpsuit, but I dare you to give me a school with a better record of manufacturing NFL receivers.

20: Larry Fitzgerald

Bankmeister: Larry Fitzgerald is the best wide out playing professional football today. If you play fantasy football – and I know you do, you little fucker – and your league has guys in it that are still taking Randy Moss, Terrell Owens, and Reggie Wayne ahead of Fitz, then this is me giving you permission to call them stupid, blue-footed boobs. Much has changed in the NFL passing game since the early ‘80s where strong, accurate passing simply had to be coupled with nothing-shy-of-perfect route running. Good receivers are more abundant, top receivers are even topperer than they were 15 years ago, and every club, be they wise, does their best job to get legitimate ones, twos, and threes on their receiving depth chart. There are exceptions of course. Take my Kansas City Chiefs for example. With their druthers, they’d, at least in the Peterson era, rather wait around for someone else’s two or three to get old or hurt, toss them way too much money, and treat ‘em like a number one. Always great fun.

Then there are the Arizona Cardinals who have Fitz, Anquan Boldin, and Steve Breaston on their roster, which – and I can say this as a Chiefs fan – should kind of be illegal. Trust me: That’s not because of Boldin and Breaston. They’re fine athletes, and Boldin is a machine, but the way that Fitzgerald plays the game has altered the approach of many a secondary, many a coordinator. Fitzgerald has been in the league for five seasons. If you take his averages over that time span, and project him over a 20-year career, he will break Jerry Rice’s records for total catches and receiving yards, and come within 17 scores of hitting his touchdown mark, landing him in second. And those are just averages. Of course, there’s no telling if he’ll stay healthy. We have no idea what kind of team he’ll play for, or what kind of offensive system he’ll be in. And he certainly isn’t going to have Kurt Warner chucking him the rock much longer.

Thing is, though, that that’s precisely all you need from a quarterback: for him to chuck it your direction and high above a corner or a safety. Larry Fitzgerald will come down with it. He is an amazing specimen of a football player. Perhaps my colleague put it best: “Larry Fitzgerald is not a real person, just a video game illusion.”

19: Sterling Sharpe

Cecil: Sterling Sharpe was something of a prototype receiver for the New Wondrous Era of Passing Glories and Exultations that Bill Walsh, Ernie Zampese and their ideological descendants brought forth upon the NFL: big and surehanded rather than little and shifty, adept at catching those five-yard outs and turning them into big gainers but also a legitimate deep threat. The template was built by Rice and Taylor, but Sharpe was well on his way to stamping the NFL record book with his personal sigil five years into his career.

Of course, his career didn't last much past that. Injuries robbed him of the physical abilities that had flustered his NFC North opponents and he retired after the '94 season...a year that saw him grab 18 touchdowns. It's not a stretch to say that, if he had remained healthy, he'd warrant a much, much higher place on this list. In his second season in the league, he caught 90 passes for more than 1,400 yards -- and that was with Don Majkowski throwing him the ball. Three years later, with a young Brett Favre chucking it, he'd perform even more impressively, snagging 108 balls for 1,461 yards, 13 scores and nearly 100 receiving yards per game. In seven full NFL seasons he reached the end zone 65 times. My goodness.

So while he may not be very high on this list, we can thank the capriciousness of the football gods rather than any drop-off on his part. If Sterling had stayed sterling, he'd be in the top five. At least.

18: Jimmy Smith

Cecil: This is how stacked those early '90s Cowboys teams were: a borderline Hall of Fame candidate-in-waiting like Jimmy Smith didn't even see the field.

Now, admittedly, that had something to do with his liking the cocaines. I'm not going to pass judgment on that; I've indulged on occasion (read: the years 1993-2005), although I never got the shit that he was likely sampling with Erik Williams and Michael Irvin -- hoo Nellie, I bet that stuff could have numbed you out for dental surgery. Whatever the behind-the-scenes truth was, kid had to have some kind of problem if Jerrah Jones made him available in the expansion draft after spending a 2nd rounder on him a year earlier. The Cowboys impatience, unfortunately, turned out to be the Jacksonville Jaguars' gain.



I say "unfortunately" because Jimmy fucking Smith was one of the biggest reasons they beat the Broncos in that '96 playoff game. I'll never forgive that team. It was the coming-out party for that franchise, and you could argue that there wasn't another player - -not Mark Brunell, not Tony Boselli -- who meant more to its long-term successes. He was the glue that held their explosive passing game together, even when Brunell got hurt and stiffs like Rob Johnson stepped in. He consistently produced big yardage, totalling 12,287 for his career, and remained a deep threat late into his career. He never scored a lot of touchdowns, no, but consistently logged about eight yearly, and his presence helped Keenan McCardell carve out a much better career than he would have otherwise.

Is he a Hall of Famer? That's debatable -- plenty of people would put him in over Rod Smith, say, but I'd argue against that point, and not just because I sport a huge fan boner for #80. One thing is certain: Jimmy Smith's career will likely serve as a benchmark to determine whether or not the gates open for more of the modern guys with comparatively inflated numbers. Even out of the league, he'll be creating opportunities for others.

17: Art Monk

Bankmeister: I didn’t want to write about Art Monk. I don’t want to write about Art Monk. I couldn’t give two shits about the Redskins. But the boy could catch, lemme tell ya’. That ain’t why we’re honoring him today, though. Yes, professional football players, especially wide receivers, can all catch footballs. Even idiot kickers. Hell, I can catch nine out of every 10 balls you throw me. Just don’t throw it too hard. That hurts.

The thing about Art Monk that not so much demands, but recommends that you recognize about him was the consistency of his production. In Monk’s day, the game was a touch more about grinding it out, the old establish-the-run-game-so-you-can-open-up-the-pass-game adage. Now, I don’t want to take anything away from Old No. 7’s uncle Theismann, but he, Mark Rypien and Doug Williams didn’t make our QB list for a reason. More importantly, the passing game wasn’t a huge factor in the Washington game as it was for say Denver or San Francisco or Miami. Whether it was John Riggins or George Rogers in the ‘80s or Earnest Byner and the RBBC that followed him in the ‘90s, Washington always had the ability to pass the ball, but you usually gather substantial yardage via the ground game first.

That’s where a guy like Monk came in beyond handy. He wasn’t always healthy, and he wasn’t always dazzling, but for 16 straight seasons, he was out their catching passes and contributing when and where he was asked to. He did make three Pro Bowls, and he played in three Super Bowls, winning two of them. His reception and touchdown career totals – 940, 68 – might seem pedestrian, but he did manage to amass 12,721 receiving yards, making him a hard-workin’ S.O.B. , and worthy of a HoG nod.

16: Irving Fryar

Bankmeister: Anybody that tells you that the newer New England uniforms are better than the old red-and-white with the Pat Patriot helmet is a fucktard. I used to be a pretty big Pats fan back in the day. Why? The uniforms. I was rooting for them in ’85 when they got absolutely murdered by the Monsters of the Midway. I thought Tony Eason and Steve Grogan were great quarterbacks (Editor's Note: See: Kansas City Chiefs quarterbacks of the ‘80s for an explanation), and I loved the work ethic of guys like Mosi Tatupu, Craig James, and Irving Fryar. Those teams, and obviously the players on them, had to work their asses of for each and every win.

And it was production out of cats like Fryar that would make a kid want you to chuck him the long ball in the back yard. I don’t want to take away anything from a cat like, say, Art Monk, but Art Monk’s in the Hall of Fame. Irving Fryar made two more Pro Bowls than Monk, and edged him out by an ass hair in career receiving yards. He also caught 14 more scores and had a higher yards-per-reception average, but who’s counting.

Fryar also dropped five 1000-yard-plus receiving seasons in the ‘90s, and, while he averaged a mere three catches a game over 17 seasons, he was typically good for a solid 50 yards a game. None of us know what goes on behind the closed doors of the Hall-of-Fame candidate-voting meetings, but I do know that if I were catering the lunch for that meeting, I’d be saying things like “This sandwich is named after the Padres’ mascot,” and “Just pulled these mozz sticks from the deep…” and coughing things like “Sleepy Hollow.” It probably wouldn’t work, but it’d probably be more successful than a daily-letter-to-the-commissioner project.

15: James Lofton

Old No. 7: Dignified, professional and soft-spoken, James Lofton has absolutely no business being associated with the me-first ball-hog criminals that pepper this list. Although his peak years occurred before our 1984 cutoff, Lofton played 16 years in The Show and has a bust in Canton due to incredible consistency and production. No one could go deep like James Lofton.



The only knock on Lofton was his relatively low touchdown output -- he scored 75 overall but never more than eight in any season. Part of this stemmed from where he played. After 9 years on the frozen tundra in Green Bay, catching balls thrown by the likes of Lynn Dickey, Randy Wright and David Whitehurst, Lofton spent two seasons as a Raider. The vertical passing game mandated by Skeletor was a perfect fit for Lofton's downfield skills, but as we all (except Al) know, huckin' bombs is a low-percentage strategy. Lofton finally paired up with a great QB and system in Buffalo, but most of the scores went to Andre Reed and Thurman Thomas.

Don't hate him because he didn't live in the end zone like Cris Carter. James Lofton was The Man.

14: Torry Holt

Cecil: Holt never really got the credit he deserved for being one of the best receivers of his generation -- was it because he played on those ridiculously stacked late '90s Rams teams? Having Isaac Bruce, Marshall Faulk, Orlando Pace and a young Kurt Warner stealing ink from you will do that. Was it because his game was never super flashy? He was great at those 25-35 yard timing routes that the Air Coryell/Martz system thrived on, but never had that Randy Moss/T.O. sparkle. Or was it because his name is Torry? Seriously. Torry is one of the worst boy's names of all time, next to Sailor and Gentry.

His numbers rank among the best of his generation: he had six consecutive seasons over 1,300 yards, including two over 1,600. In 2000 he averaged a superb 19.9 yards per catch; that's the kind of number more befitting a deep-ball specialist with no midfield responsibility. He had some of the best hands in the league, was great at high-pointing the ball and produced as well under the decidedly unimpressive Marc Bulger as he did under the potential Hall of Famer Warner. He's got a Super Bowl ring. He can claim 74 touchdowns and has three seasons of double-digit scores. The guy was never the biggest (only 6'0") or fastest receiver on the field, but he was usually the best. Expect him to don the ugly-ass mustard jacket of Greatness in about six or seven years.

13: Andre Reed

Bankmeister: Andre Reed had a phenomenal career considering that a lot of the Buffalo Bills teams he played on were the ultimate balance of what a good team should be. They, at times, had stout defenses, they had a great rushing attack, and a passing game with multiple weapons. Not only that but he was pretty healthy and pretty damn productive for most of 16 seasons. He logged 15 of those with the same club, and even stuck around for a few after Jim Kelly signed off. He didn’t really have a top-tier quarterback to throw him the ball once Kelly was gone, but he still went out and put up better-than-decent numbers.



Crafting installments for a feature like this can be tedious, because, more or less, the criteria for selecting each of these guys is the same, which is why we’ll take a brief peek at Reed’s numbers: seven straight Pro Bowls, 951 catches for 13,198 yards, and 87 touchdowns. And of course you have to mention that unprecedented, never-to-happen-again (I posit) string of four Super Bowl losses.

I don’t wanna get all weepy for the Bills, but aside from the idea that that just freaking blows, you gotta hand it to a guy like Reed for his SB numbers. We know it wasn’t in the cards for Buffalo to hoist a Lombardi, and it wasn’t in the cards for Reed to catch a touchdown pass in either of those contests, either. He did, however, haul in 27 balls for 323 yards in those games. Andre Reed was gravy when it came to catching passes, especially those of considerable length, i.e. his 11-year stretch (1988-98) of catching at least one 50-yard pass a season, save ’95 when he missed 10 games and could only put up a 41-yarder.

12: Shannon Sharpe:

Cecil: Shannon Sharpe didn't just pile up stats, although those he did accumulate represented the all-time industry leader until they were bested by a certain metrosexual vegan. He didn't just talk wicked shit and back it up, although he did once taunt Derrick Thomas to the point of complete meltdown. He didn't just make the clutchiest of clutch plays for three Super Bowl champions, although he really did. No, Shannon Sharpe owned it all. He represents a kind of character that's largely mythic in modern sport, more the province of literature than of the actual locker room: the brash, larger-than-life showman who wins on the field and poses for muscle mags off it, who parachutes into the stadium to accept awards, who attracts every camera yet somehow manages to avoid seeming insincere. If anything, Shannon Sharpe was never insincere. He thought he was great and he said so. My personal favorite Sharpe moment happened off the gridiron, when he wore a "Fuck Favre" t-shirt during the '97 Super Bowl parade. It was, as it should have been, camouflage and ridiculously tight.

His ego collapes gravity, he's occasionally incoherent on the television, his visage has inspired a ton of totally original jokes and he did skip town to play in, fah, Baltimore. I can't stand that team. Plus I hear the city is a toilet. My wife travels there for business, says it's awful and she can't even find an actual goddamn crab cake. Ray Lewis covered for a murdered and Joe Flacco wears a caterpillar on his face. So there's that.

But then, he also came back, so we forgave him his momentary sojourn to the eastern seaboard. Big Play Shay will always be the Best Tight End in NFL History...at least west of Goodland.

11: Tony Gonzalez

Old No. 7: Let me say it, loudly and clearly and on the record: TONY GONZALEZ IS THE GREATEST TIGHT END IN THE HISTORY OF FOOTBALL. Case closed, end of story. He's great.

I personally lobbied to have this category include all pass-catchers, not just wideouts, specifically so Gonzalez (and Shannon Sharpe) could be included. He's been that impactful on football over the last 25 years, and he's a no-doubt sure-thing slam-dunk Hall of Fame inductee five years after he hangs up the cleats.

That being said, I've often criticized Gonzalez over the years for his lack of success in the playoffs, and I think that criticism is absolutely valid. Because we're not talking about some random player, some mere multiple Pro Bowler, we're talking about THE GREATEST TIGHT END IN THE HISTORY OF FOOTBALL. Barry Sanders is the best running back I've ever seen, and he's in the conversation for the title of top running back in history. But Barry Sanders has a similar track record of January misery, and that is absolutely applicable when sizing him up against Walter Payton and Jim Brown for the top spot. It wasn't Barry's fault that he played for the woeful Lions and their inept coaches, clumsy quarterbacks, ineffective O-lines and porous defenses, but the fact is that Barry made the playoffs five times in his career. Only once, in 1991, did his team win a single postseason game. This is Barry's cross to bear, as the Chiefs' 0-fer in the playoffs is Tony's.

When Gonzalez and Sharpe were closer in overall numbers and achievements, I always gave the edge to Shannon because he had proven himself over and over again on the postseason stage. But once Sharpe retired and Gonzalez kept creating brilliant seasons, I couldn't hold out any longer. You win. You're the best. Almost as impressive, I just finished four whole paragraphs on Tony Gonzalez without once speculating that he prefers the company of males.

Wow. There you have it, pass-catching fans. Swing back by tomorrow for a gander at the remaining 10.
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Friday Fiction Fix (Now With Cinematic Twist!): "The Only Good Indian"

If, and I'm taking a shot in the dark here, you found this feature a tad confusing in the past, well keep your pants on. Today we're including another element. KC FilmFest kicked off on Wednesday night, and the wife and I sat one row behind Bob Uecker. The theater was stadium-seating style, which is never good on the neck, but it does rock when the star/executive producer/complete badass gives a Q&A afterwards. Such badass is Wes Studi. If you've never seen "Dances with Wolves," or "Last of the Mohicans," or "Geronimo: An American Legend," well, you're just plain missing out. Those films are good places to start, if you're interested, though.

As I mentioned, the film stars Studi, along with J. Kenneth Campbell, and cinema newcomer, Winter Fox Frank. It was directed by Kevin Willmott, and written by Thomas Carmody. It's not really playing in the major-movie market, so you'll have to dig around for it, which I highly recommend. One of the many cool things about the picture is that the storyline uses, incorporates, and runs parallel with the text from Bram Stoker's Dracula. I know. Super-dope fly, right?

For the sake of consistency, Bram Stoker was born in Dublin in 1847. He published a dozen novels, three short-story collections, and four non-fiction pieces before taking a wooden stake to the heart in 1912. Either that or he had syphillis. Anyway, in the same sense that I hoped Wes Studi needed no introduction, I hope the same for the story of Dracula.

"I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I had all sorts of queer dreams. There was a dog howling all night under my window, which may have had something to do with it; or it may have been the paprika, for I had to drink up all the water in my carafe, and was still thirsty. Towards morning I slept and was wakened by the continuous knocking at my door, so I guess I must have been sleeping soundly then..."



"They were evidently talking of me, for every now and then they looked at me, and some of the people who were sitting on the bench outside the door--came and listened, and then looked at me, most of them pityingly. I could hear a lot of words often repeated, queer words, for there were many nationalities in the crowd, so I quietly got my polyglot dictionary from my bag and looked them out."



"The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up with a gleaming smile...



...The passenger turned his face away, at the same time putting out his two fingers and crossing himself...There is a flask...underneath the seat, if you should require it....

...I found my dear one, oh, so thin and pale and weaklooking.



All the resolution has gone out of his dear eyes, and that quiet dignity which I told you was in his face has vanished.



He is only a wreck of himself, and he does not remember anything that has happened to him for a long time past. At least, he wants me to believe so, and I shall never ask...I do believe the dear soul thought I might be jealous...Then one night, just as the moon rose, he grew quiet, and kept murmuring to himself...It was a strange thing that the patient had humour enough to see their distrust, for, coming close to me, he said in a whisper, all the while looking furtively at them, They think I could hurt you! Fancy me hurting you! The fools!"

"It was soothing, somehow, to the feelings to find myself disassociated even in the mind of this poor madman from the others, but all the same I do not follow his thought. Am I to take it that I have anything in common with him, so that we are, as it were, to stand together. Or has he to gain from me some good so stupendous that my well being is needful to Him?

I am in doubt, and so have done the best thing I know of. I have written to my old friend and master, Professor Van Helsing,...who knows as much about...the world...



Van Helsing would, I know, do anything for me for a personal reason, so no matter on what ground he comes, we must accept his wishes. He is a seemingly arbitrary man, this is because he knows what he is talking about better than any one else. He is a philosopher and a metaphysician, and one of the most advanced scientists of his day, and he has, I believe, an absolutely open mind. This, with an iron nerve, a temper of the ice-brook, and indomitable resolution, self-command, and toleration exalted from virtues to blessings, and the kindliest and truest heart that beats, these form his equipment for the noble work that he is doing for mankind, work both in theory and practice, for his views are as wide as his all-embracing sympathy. I tell you these facts that you may know why I have such confidence in him. I have asked him to come at once."

"You will, of course, understand...that when a man is so loved and honored...everything regarding him is of interest in our little community...



...When an individual has revolutionized...conventional forms are unfitting, since they would seem to limit him to one of a class...He made this last appeal with a courtly air of conviction which was not without its own charm."

"So I contented myself with making a general statement that...I...would then see what I could do in the direction of meeting his wishes."



"We have now had so many changes and find the same thing so constantly that we are encouraged to think that the journey will be an easy one...It is a lovely country. Full of beauties of all imaginable kinds...

...our enemy is still on the river...



...we travel, always getting closer to the mountains, and moving into a more and more wild and desert land..."

That's today's installment. Find out more about "The Only Good Indian" here, and get your copy of Stoker's masterpiece here.
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Thursday ThinkTank: Now That He, Too, Has Left the Building

About a week ago, when the Tony Gonzalez-to-Atlanta trade rumors surfaced, I was a little nervous. But nothing happened, and I was fine with it. Until yesterday. Then the Philadelphia Eagles allegedly dove into the mix, and I was worried again. Not because I thought the Chiefs would ship Tony to Philly, but because I saw they were offering a third-round pick, and that made me feel that within 48 hours of the 2009 NFL Draft's commencement, this is when the stuff can go down for real, especially if one team's genuinely interested, and then another puts its ante in the pot.

Well, as everyone knows by now, the Chiefs sent Tony Gonzalez to the Atlanta Falcons for a second-round pick in 2010's draft. It's a done deal and I've had just over five hours to let it sink in. And for the most part, it has. Naturally, it'll be new all over again when you see four-letter highlights of him at training camp, and regular season footage of him as a Dirty Bird. But it's for real, and we must move on.

It's a bittersweet deal in the end, mostly because of the most microscopic, surreal pipedream of Tony Gonzalez retiring as a Chief and winning a Super Bowl was probably never going to happen. Now, the new regime of Scott Pioli and Todd Haley could very well get this club turned around and, amongst the outer-most moons of Neptune, Gonzalez could come back to K.C. for one final hurrah of a season, and they could win it all. But it's a pipedream.

Closer to the sun than the distant Milky Way, it's sliced clean into two sides: the business and the personal. I've never been secretive about Gonzalez being my favorite Chief. He was more than that, though. He was the proverbial face of the franchise, the go-to-guy, the clutch performer, the hero. Now, he, like any player, is one of many cogs in a machine working toward one goal. And well, this machine has been shy a handful of cogs for a long time. So you make some replacements. I just knew it was a bad idea to ask for my first-ever Gonzalez jersey for Christmas last year.

In the business end of things, it appears that Pioli means just that: business. He's gonna go out, make some transactions, all in the name of bettering the machine, and hopefully, he'll have a great draft, too. Essentially, the Chiefs were already going to have a second-rounder in 2010. So they give up 2009's and get a quarterback who could have a solid decade in him. Add to that some veteran linebacker leadership in Mike Vrabel. Then, you unload Tony and get another second-round pick, so in a sense, it's as if you've traded a 32 year-old tight end for some defensive help, and perhaps a franchise quarterback, which ain't that bad of a deal.

Yes, it'd've been nice to get some help in this year's draft, but I think you simply have to take the second-rounder for Gonzalez, no matter what. As the outsiders that we all are, it appears that that was the only second-round pick -- the price the Chiefs have asked for all along -- that has been offered since last October. It might've been the only one offered, so you take it. I imagine Pioli's dealings aren't yet done for this upcoming season, and it almost promises to be an awesome draft weekend, and a great summer of free agency.

At least that's what I'm hoping for.

So to Tony Gonzalez -- an official House of Georges salute for your service, your commitment to being the best, and your highly admirable performances in all regards.



ChiefsNation will miss you, sir.

(photos courtesy of the Kansas City Star)
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Tradition Tuesday: Gettin' Back to Our Roots

Now then. I reckon that, right around this time each week we're mumbling on about traditions and rough focuses with regard to our favorite football teams. Like most sports bloggers, we go to extensive ends to remind our readers that we are massive homers, heavy drinkers, and not afraid to take pot shots at the wives. Today, if only for a moment, I'm going to abandon that notion. You see, I'm 100 percent sober at the moment. The wife's presently on a mad streak of pleasantness (Editor's Note: Sweet Jesus in Heaven -- show me the way to bottle this concoction.) and well, we're not scoopmasters all that often, though we do have our moments. This naturally leaves me with the lone choice of breaking down the Chiefs and the Broncos with the old-fashioned fuel known as passion. Now it might take me a moment to get the spark, air, and gas to combust, but once I do, hold on to your wood screws hats, 'cause I'm'a blow your doors off.

You know, now that I think about it, I spent most of my day in various elementary schools. I saw everything from identifying nouns versus verbs to simple subtraction problems to pattern-description exercises to drawing pictures of pigs and chickens. So what better way to break it on down than with everyone's favorite tool: the alphabet. Oh yeah. Believe it.

A) is for animosity, boys and girls. Animosity is like a feeling of ill will or hostitlity. And ill will is something Broncos fans feel for Chiefs fans and vice versa. The sad thing is is that from this side of the Missouri River, it's hard to envision just what it is that makes Denver fans feel hostile towards Kansas City fans. From behind the red-and-gold glasses, the orange-and-blue franchise participated in shenanigans to get ol' Horse-Faced Colts Draft, and for most of his career (some 15-16 years), Elway and the Broncos dominated the Chiefs in the sense that they had more playoff appearances, one or two more Super Bowl wins, and a heckuva ride in which to cap the whole thing off. The only thing KC accomplished during this era was to get nearly all of the home wins against (Note: But certainly not the big one.) the Broncos, and an occasional victory at Mile High. Post-retirement, KC got consecutive wins for the last two Chiefs games at the old digs, and since the new one opened, they've not won there once. Throw in the fact that Chiefs fans suffered through the forever-stamped-as-retarded Herman Edwards Experiment and a convenient return to the AFC Championship game for Denver, and I just don't see how the animosity could flow evenly towards Hays, KS from both directions.

B) is for Bubby Brister. It just has to be. In fact, I'll crack into the aforementioned sobriety and a can of Pabst in cheersing you, Mr. Bubby Brister jersey-tucker guy. You. Rule.

C) can only stand for one thing, and that's Cutlerfucker. I have a bit more to say about this neverending nightmare of a story, but for now, get the official word on Denver preparing to trade Jay Cutler here.

D) is for Denver, silly rabbit. Great city. Fantastic scenery in the surrounding areas, and, well, three out of four pretty-darn-cool professional sports teams ain't bad, y'all. Avs, Nugs, Rox -- much love. 'Nuff said.

E) is for Elway. Eli-style.

F) is for Fame. As in the Hall of, also known as Canton, OH, where the true champion of good fortune for all and will toward men is well-represented. The douche faucets...not so much.

G) is for Grbac, because I don't think the English language has ever seen a better 'g' word. I still can't believe that guy was our quote/unquote leader for a time. A deep, dark, painful time.

H) is for horses. They're everywhere around InVesCo. The parking lot. Atop the stadium. On all three versions of the Denver helmet. There've even been horse matter on the team, like that pile of horse-pucky Romanowski, or the horse's ass Maurice Clarett, the horse teeth of Elway, and of course the horse lips of Shannon Sharpe.

I) is for...say it with me now, everybody! "In-Com-Plete!" Liberace just texted me from the grave. His message said "tht iz geigh."

J) is for Joe. The greatest quarterback to ever play the game. No I don't mean Namath, and no I don't say it solely because he was a Chief. Though that does help.

K) is for kharma, bitches. Kay to the harma. Pull some bullshit deal with the Colts to get the 80s Eli under your center, and look what happens: Your entire -- and I do mean 100 percent -- fan base is sick-in-the-mouth obsessed with who his replacement will be, when he will get here, and how soon will he take us to three ass-poundings of Super Bowl games before we can win two consecutive and happily slop our semen across one another's chins. That's right. I said it. Somebody had to say it. Let's run through the mix here: Griese wasn't good enough. I've tried to stick up for him and say that he wasn't given a fair shake, an argument which was tossed to the canvas swifter than a body slam by the J-Y-D, but whatever. There's Bubby. There's Gus. There's The Snake. And now there's Cutler. You know what else there is? Season number 11 since HFCD retired rights 'rounds corns, which means that by the time Jay Jam's replacement is in there and familiar with the system, John Elway's entire career will have already happened again. I dunno. You did get those two trophies, so I imagine it was worth it. I just find it tickling how much struggle there has been in trying to find the new "one."

L) can only be for one thing: Larry. Wow. I could write novels.

M) must be for Mecklenberg. He's probably the first Bronco I remember, and I remember him being pretty good, aside from that gay-pride-parade uniform he always wore on the field. What a creep.

N) is for never, as in never, ever, ever-ever-ever-ever-ever in a million years did I think that the Chiefs would go 2-14. goodtimes.com/cockanballsonthetongue right there.

O) can also only be for one thing: "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-OH-OHHHHHHH-OHHHHH! OHHHHHHHH-OHH-OHHHHHHH."

P) has dual significance: Peterson, Pioli. I'll be the one (of eight kazillion) watching.

Q) is for guys that have played for both teams, like Quentin Griffin. Ah, fuck it; it's for queer.

R) is for road wins. I'm told they exist.

S) is for my favorite Tradition-al game-time comment: "Sizzle, sizzle."

T) could be for tight end. It could also be for Tony, but it's actually for both, an' while I'm cheesin' it up, let's throw in "terrific."

U) is for unfortunate, as in it's a shame that these past couple of seasons have tilted the AFC West rivalry peak to Denver-San Diego. For that, and for so, so, so much more, I thank thee, Herm Edwards.

V) is for Big V, which I think stands for the big Victory in the sky I'm hoping to one day see mere moments before a Kansas City Lombardi is hoisted.

W) is for welcome to the machine, Jackson. May the force find you lured to the good side.

X) must be for Brian Xanders. I don't know why. I just want to get this over with now.

Y) has to be yee-haw, which all of us Chiefs fans say when we put on our

Z) ubaz after having sex with our fat sisters in preparation of staying at the bars 'til zee dawn post big-game tailgate.

"Zing!" works pretty well, too, if you feel like substituting it.
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Tradition Tuesday Wednesday Addendum: Sharpe-Gonzo Hijinks

Banky's post from yesterday inspired me to rehash this Broncos-Chiefs rivalry thing. First of all, how come the Broncos can't simply bust out the old orange duds once a year? Be it for a Raiders game, Chiefs game, doesn't matter. We've had to watch this team wear the stupid orange alternate jersey, the stupid dead-horse helmet and now the stupid maroon getup Coach Doogie modeled yesterday.

I'll admit, I'm a nostalgic romantic traditionalist. I grew up with those uniforms, and I don't see a God damned thing wrong with bringing them back once in a while.

But moving beyond fashion, I've discovered some delicious sound bites from a bitter Shannon Sharpe. Shannon was snubbed by the Hall of Fame back in February, which is of course preposterous. I assume he'll get in one day, but in the meantime he's adopting that old surefire coping strategy: reminding everyone that Tony Gonzalez sucks. Catfight details after the jump...

First, Shannon told the Baltimore Sun (reprinted here in the LA Times) that even though Tony G has broken some of his records the Chief is nothing but a pretender:

"But I never played on a 2-14 team two years in a row," Sharpe said. "He's all they had. I only lost five playoff games. He's lost three already."

That was before the vote. Since the travesty in Canton transpired, Shannon is still gunning for his old Tradition sparring partner. Jim Armstrong noted on Friday that:

Shannon Sharpe tells Page 2 he's OK with not being a first-ballot Hall of Famer, an honor never accorded a tight end. The litmus tests comes when K.C.'s Tony Gonzalez is eligible. Says Sharpie: "I want to see the tight end who gets in on the first ballot. I hope I'm alive to see it. If it's just numbers, Tony's got the numbers. But he's never played in the Super Bowl. Every big game he's played in, he lost all of them." . . .

You go girl!

In response to this devastating critique, Tony Gonzalez demanded a trade to a team that could get him to the playoffs. That way, he could break the last record Sharpe still holds: those five postseason losses.
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Tradition Tuesday: Don't Call It a Throwback (Been Here for Years)

Many months ago, in the blessed days when I was the last remaining bachelor of the Iron Triangle, there was, if you will, a meeting of the minds. The topic of said meeting was a mental sumo-wrestling match, the title bout, if you will, of three grown men attempting to figure out what the rough focus of this blog was to be. It was long, gruelling, and torturous, and instead of a trio of obese, castrated Asians in diapers, it was more like three pasty, well-endowed (Editor's Note: Take me seriously when I say that I speak for only myself there.), beer-bellied wordsmiths. The commonality was the battle, though. We entertained, for fewer seconds than I can hardly recall, the following notions:

1) The Ultimate NASCAR Blog
2) The WNBlogA
3) The Billiards and Bowling Blog, and
4) a hybrid of championship poker and tablog-tennis,

but in the end, the gavel slammed, and it was determined that the focus would somehow relate to the rivalry between the Denver Broncos (Cecil and Seven pounced on that pile of rotten meat like starved scoundrels in the desert) and the Kansas City Chiefs (wherein I proudly took one for the team). It was decided as such, given our years of experiencing matriculating to one another's football back yards, where there is always guaranteed a plethora of canned beer, smoked protein, and a vessel's worth of curse words. We fondly titled such excursions The Tradition, which brings us to today, another installment of "Tradition Tuesday," where we bring you the weekly state-of-the-rivalry address.

There are a number of football topics to discuss today, so let's not waste any time. I will expect, as always, extended opining in the comments section by each and every one of you readers. Shall you fail this assignment, I'll be shredding the rest of the week's gold stickers and sending notes home to your parents.

First, we've spent more time discussing the Jay Cutler situation than there are hours in Lent. But the thing won't die. Really. It's like the Peter Griffin-chicken fights in "Family Guy." And like most days in the past three-four weeks, another tidbit has surfaced, and the gang at BroncoTalk delivered an interesting photo



attached to a story, wherein Coach Doogie had just concluded an interview and proudly (Note: By "proudly," I mean nice smile, Mosh.) held up Denver's version of the legacy jersey, foreshadowing of the upcoming "Legacy Games" that will take place this year. Each team will wear a throwback for one road, one away game. McDaniels was quoted in The Denver Post explaining why Young No. 6's work shirt was chosen:

"I wouldn't have wanted it to be any other player,” quoth the Doogster.

On the Kansas City side of things, this means that the Chiefs will don the ol' Texans jerseys. Personally, I have no problem with that whatsoever. The late Lamar Hunt always considered the Dallas Cowboys a rival, and never got a chance to see the Texans take on America's team, in that the Texans were only in Dallas for three seasons. But there's another interesting twist, or two, to that The Kansas City Star article:

"The NFL announced the nationally televised games from the opening weekend of the season. Neither the Chiefs nor the Cowboys are involved, so it’s possible their game could be played on opening weekend...Denver is another possible opponent for the Chiefs that weekend. The league is looking to promote the 50th season since the launch of the old AFL. The league matched two original AFL franchises, the Bills and Patriots, in one opening weekend game and two more, the Chargers and the Raiders, in another."

To either of those, I say bring it. Of course, I don't consider the Cowboys a rival to my Chiefs, but it would be a neat way to kick off the season, and I imagine, a fascinating game as far as seeing where these two teams sit in terms of talent and productivity. If the latter is true, than I can assure you that I know three guys that will be at that game, each of whom clad in throwback helmets of their own. And rest assured, I'm stoked that mine doesn't look the slightest bit gay.

Since the NFL has taken to tossing us fans mere pieces of the schedule pie, I'll note that Denver has been given the Thanksgiving evening game. I think that's fantastic for two reasons: 1) The Chiefs got it three years ago, and it was a blast. I spent most of Tuesday and Wednesday of that week preparing Thanksgiving dinner, and figuring exactly how I would re-heat in the Arrowhead parking lot without drying everything out. It was great fun. It was not something I'd want to do every year because it was a lot of work, and frankly, Thanksgiving should be spent with families, unless you're a Packer or a Lion fan, and you've been doing that your whole life. 2) I think each great football community should have such an experience, and I include Denver -- even if they are pillow-biting uncle-fuckers -- in that sentiment.

There are two oddities about the thing, though: 1) As I'm sure you either already knew, or have since concluded, why is Denver in the mix for a second time three seasons into this new tradition? I mean, aside from the fact the the Broncos get 11 prime-time telecasts per year and 12 of those are home games, I thought the notion of this gig was to spread the games around. 2) They're hosting the Giants? Whatever. That's just, well, aside from the pout-fest -- or as Kissing Suzy Kolber put it: "Cutler and Eli having a sulk-off" -- factor, completely lame.

As for other news with the teams, Broncos Gab reports that the club is interested in shopping some of its tailbacks, and that some non-Cutler McDaniels decisions have irritated some teammates, while Mile High Report offers, well, more Cutler:



KC Chiefs Football wants us to know that Chairman Clark Hunt is interested in keeping Tony Gonzalez, unsure about Brian Waters and Larry Johnson. Arrowhead Addict looks at some affordable free agents the Chiefs might could consider, and if that's not enough Chiefs/Broncos information to make you want to throw up, then hopefully this will be:


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Saturday Studmuffins: The Sleeper

In the realm of Chief bloggery, Arrowhead Pride is among the best, and this week, primetime 07 put together a post on Tony Gonzalez. The eye-catcher is a chart -- those boys love their charts -- pitting Gonzalez against the top seven tight ends in the league. The numbers show that, among Jason Witten, Chris Cooley, Antonio Gates, John Carlson, Jeremy Shockey, Lieutenant Winslow, and Dallas Clark, Gonzalez leads the pack in catches, yards, touchdowns, and first downs.

What'd the man say? The tight end, is in fact, the sleeper. That is all.

(image courtesy of the Googles, via some guy with a camera)
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Monday Mourning: If He Goes...

The way we're wired, being sports fans defines us. We love baseball because it's in our blood, our childhoods, our memory banks. Debates regarding the game today is a many-headed beast, arguments that will never see a winner or loser. Some of us bleed a passion for soccer, while even fewer remain dedicated to hockey. Our common thread, however, will always be American football. We want competition, we want toughness, we want our clubs to be positively represented, and most of all, we want championships. With tomorrow's NFL trade deadline looming, a certainty swells in my brain telling me that as of Wednesday morning, October 15, Tony Gonzalez will no longer be a Kansas City Chief.

When I sat down to write this morning, it felt impossible to grasp the right angle of this piece. I wrestled with many urges to compile the most compelling list of personal and professional statistics to paint the ultimate picture of #88. I decided against it, mostly because this visceral knot has very little to do with the record books. Any fan of football knows that records are made to be broken, and the fact that Tony Gonzalez currently holds the NFL records for yards, catches, and touchdowns by a tight end is just that -- current. Maybe in five years Antonio Gates will close in on, if not eclipse one or more of those marks. Maybe some other guy will come along in 10 years or so, and shatter them all. And maybe they'll be Gonzalez's records for eternity. The more pressing point of this sentiment, though, is that Tony Gonzalez embodies the model of what I want my teams' rosters to be full of, both in personal and professional regards.

In the spring of 1997, when the Chiefs selected Gonzalez with the 13th overall pick of the NFL draft, I was clueless to it. It's possible that I didn't even know the draft happened in April back then, and I certainly was not aware of Gonzalez until the season was underway. The world of sports -- hell, the world in general -- was a lot different 11 years ago. Gore's InterWebs were like a Model-T; I was barely able to wrap my head around the concept of e-mail; and I was inching my way through my junior year at THE Fort Lewis College, which was a great experience, albeit a little too deep in BroncoCountry for my taste, but whatever.

This era, of course was the beginning of the aftermath of the ultimate Carl Peterson debacle, known (sort of) as Gannon-GrbacGate. With Rich Gannon being relegated to the bench in favor of Grbac, the Chiefs' chances at getting a then-rookie Gonzalez a taste of playoff victory looked good. That was about as good as they'd ever look. Gonzalez caught a touchdown pass in that game, and had an earlier end-zone catch ruled out of bounds. He would spend the next couple of seasons being Grbac's favorite (and perhaps only other than Derrick Alexander) target, before Trent Green took over as signal caller. It would be six long years before the Chiefs had another shot.

On January 11, 2004, the Chiefs were eliminated from post-season contention by Peyton Manning and the Indianapolis Colts, a contest marking the second of three consecutive Chief playoff losses to Indy. In this game, Gonzalez had another touchdown catch negated by officiating. Three years later, in the third game of those defeats to the Colts, Gonzalez found the end zone on consecutive plays, a third-quarter touchdown catch, followed by a reception for the two-point conversion, Kansas City's only points in the contest. Many argued, and have since continued, that the best option for that day would've been the then-hot Damon Huard as the starting quarterback, but KC went with the recently-recovered Green, who led a lifeless offense to defeat.

Since then the Chiefs have gone 5-16 with combinations of Huard, Brodie Croyle and Tyler Thigpen throwing to Gonzalez, and things have never looked bleaker in 88's storied career. The troops have been rallied, the wagons have circled, and all suggestions lean toward trading Gonzalez as the right thing to do. Reporters have claimed that Peterson and Gonzalez are very close, that the Chiefs' General Manager worked hard to get Green landed with another club, that perhaps he'll work harder to do the same for Gonzalez. With the Green trade, sides in the tiers of fandom were at odds. Some thought it to be a mistake to let Green go with only the aged Huard and the unproven youth in Croyle as the only signal-calling options.

Now, with Gonzalez, it would appear that unanimity abides; place the man in a situation he deserves, with a team that has a chance to compete. My House of Georges colleagues and I have oft-argued many a Gonzalez-related topic: How can you call him the best when he's never won a playoff game, let alone a Super Bowl? When Arrowhead Addict ran its famous COAT (greatest Chief Of All Time) series, I steadfastly supported Gonzalez, and stand by that claim today.

Gonzalez has almost never missed a game. He has for more than 10 years been a dedicated off-season trainer, and been ultra-competitive in every game in which he's played. He's made a tremendous impact with the United Way, the Boys and Girls Club, and with Shadow Buddies, The Tony Gonzalez Foundation. He's never been in the presses for domestic abuse, he's never been nabbed for driving while under the influence, and he's always had some sense of tact with reporters in regard to expressing his post-loss frustrations (Editor's Note: And obviously, there have been many.). And frankly, a fan can't ask for more in his/her professional athlete.

Therefore, when it comes down to the nits and grits of this inevitable transaction, yes -- I want the most the Chiefs can get for Tony Gonzalez. But no -- I do not think the trigger should remain unpulled if Peterson's desires are not sated in compensatory terms. My colleagues would likely say that no man "deserves" a championship, and I would suspect that they would agree with me that, from time to time, a player comes along that does in fact deserve a shot at competing for one. Tony Gonzalez is that player, bar none. So it is with sadness, shame and acceptance that I, as a member of ChiefsNation face this trade deadline. I'm sad to see Tony go; he is in fact my favorite player to ever don the red and gold. I'm ashamed that Peterson's efforts and attempts to bring this club a championship have failed, and in that shame, the majority of it goes hand-in-hand with Gonzalez's career, the smaller end being my personal fandom, as Kansas City will continue trying to earn that trophy after Tony's time in the league has lapsed.

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly is the final ingredient of acceptance. I know that Gonzalez must go. I've accepted the fact that the game will have passed him before the Chiefs will even sniff legitimate contention again. And it will be with truth and conviction that I root for whatever team that signs him, as I look forward to the days in which Gonzalez earns a ring, (hopefully) retires as a Chief, and sees his name etched onto the walls of Arrowhead Stadium.

For 11 incredible seasons, for forever existing as the lone glimmer of hope (even when it was false), and for being one of so very few positive role models both within and outside of the hash marks, I thank you, Tony Gonzalez, for being the best -- and here I quote Old No. 7 -- "September-to-December, non-championship-winning, tight end to ever play the game of football."



Since 1997, and for many years to come, remember that I told y'all: the tight end's the sleeper.

(Note: Those interested in Tony Gonzalez stats can find many lines of eye-torturing letters and numbers here, here, and yes -- even here.)
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Speechless in KC

I hadn't even heard the rumors yet, but two sources just confirmed via the Bottom Line on the KU game, that Tony Gonzalez has been traded to the New York Giants. I'm happy for him. The defending Super Bowl champions just made their chances to win another one a lot better, and the best tight end to ever play the game of football deserves a ring. At the same time, a part of me has died. More later...

(Update: Bad source on this gig; nothing confirmed yet.)
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Sunday Sermon: Go Forth, Young Man

The time has come; the day is here. Today is the moment to sheddeth thy back of the evil monkey that lives in your closet. He did not take up residence there because you sub-let him the space. The conglomerate of doubters, the press, and the football fans of America insisted upon his dwelling. So I urge you, young Croyle, to not go gently into that dark Foxboro. Do not be intimidated by the successes, the household names, and the shiny array of secret cameras in the great northeast. Stick close to your roots, depend heavily upon Dwayne Bowe, Tony Gonzalez, and of course, Larry Johnson. Have faith in the greenness of the line in front of you, and of course, throw the ball away rather than trying to force something.

Today could very well be the first day of the rest of your life as a successful quarterback in the National Football League. It could also be the last day of your life as an NFL player, but I don't put faith in that creed. I invite subscribers of naysayage to lap up a warm bowl of bukkake residue. May they be forced to enjoy the...yeah, I dunno what there'd be to enjoy about that, but nevertheless...

...Chiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeefffffffffssss!!!
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More Friday Homerisms For That Ass

We've already had our anti-Broncos breakfast, so it's time for a little late-afternoon Chiefs snack. I can feel the energy of football season, just from surfing the Web, so forgive me for my geeked-outness, and the words I've selected to convey it. Nevertheless, a look at some of what's going on around the 'sphere, Chiefs-style, just after the jump.

Okay. I must admit: I have been eagerly awaiting the Deadspin season preview of the Kansas City Chiefs. There's no mistaking that I thought the Broncos one was good, and Cecil did not. This afternoon the Chiefs one was finally published, and it's pretty damn awesome. I fully expected it to be from some east coast clown that would vomit up a handful of sticky paragraphs about how terrible their season's going to be. It's way, way better.

In semi-related Chiefs news, Jared Allen likes guns. That came from The Big Lead, and I like most everything they publish. Everything except for this little twinkie, in which they claim that "Zoolander" rocked. I still love you guys, but fuck. You. "Zoolander" fucking blew more ass than that nasaly waft of the guy in the urinal next to you who clearly ate 14 pounds of asparagus for dinner. Fuck "Zoolander," and fuck all of its sheer retardation.

While Brodie Croyle hasn't been diagnosed with diabetes, he certainly appears to have dipped into Jay Cutler's weed stash:

"Of course, you feel pressure and you want to do well," Croyle said. "But there's not much expected of us. So it's like we have nothing to lose and we can go out and feel good about ourselves and try to shock some people. We want to get better and that is our goal, but we know not much is expected of us. I see us being underdogs a lot this season, and that's fine with us."

I think Croyle just had a oney, though. Hall-of-Famer Bobby Bell helped himself to a little twinny-twin twin.

And, in the words of one of my favorite all-time Broncos fans, "I tole y'all: the tight end's the sleeper.":



Really? Lined up on special teams? And blocking a punt? I nev-uh seen Shannin Shawp do dat.

(clip courtesy of Arrowhead Pride)

Finally, Chiefs Gab has taken a look at the Chiefs offense, and the defense.

Aw, yeah. Football.
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Papers and Agents and Contracts. Oh, My!

The Chiefs have agreed to a seemingly pricey deal with former Falcons linebacker Demorrio Williams. I'd offer some stats on the guy, but, frankly, they're not that impressive. If you're really interested, have a look for yourself. I'm no wizard by any stretch, but, uh...you think maybe that's why they didn't retain him?

Christ. Come on, Herm. Do something smart. Just once. Anything. That's the answer to cutting Kendrell Bell and demoting Napoleon Harris? Give me a freaking break. I mean, how in the fuck do you log six and-a-half sacks in four seasons? I could get to quarterbacks in Atlanta's division more often than that. Anyhoo, at least there's some semi-humorous Denver Bronco news...

...in the form of some not-very-good visitors stopping by that manly sounding place called Dove Valley.

Kerry Colbert? That's a stretch of a maybe. Sammy Knight? Good luck with that one. I hear Greg Wesley's still on the board, too.

Enough about the bad news, though. Here's a video of the best tight end in NFL history talking about his myriad of philanthropic endeavors. And, here's Joe Posnanski offering high regard to the late founder of the Broncos, Bob Howsam.

It sure is nice to live in a city with no sports, award-winning journalists and courteous, giving people. I imagine it gets tiresome to nitpick and naysay and trash talk up in that thin air.

Oh, and, sweet tie clip, boss.
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