By now you know that Greg Hardy sat down for a VERY SERIOUS conversation with ESPN this week and turded up the joint the way only Greg Hardy can. He denied any wrongdoing, insinuated that these pictures could have been manipulated, and tossed in an empty Bible shout-out for good measure. Keep in mind that after a season in which visual evidence of Hardy’s abuses became public and the Dallas Cowboys decided to let him walk because of his unreliability (imagine being such an asshole that even Jerry Jones washes his hands of you), Hardy is now jobless. So it behooved him to come off as well as he possibly could in this interview and he failed miserably. It was a shitty performance, and he did precisely NOTHING to earn your sympathy.

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Unless, of course, you happen to be ESPN nugget-dispenser and board-certified NFL stooge Adam Schefter, who unfortunately was the one asking the questions here. After looking deep into Hardy’s eyes and glimpsing his poor troubled soul, Schefter was apparently the only rube on Earth to buy ANY of what Hardy had to say. Here is what Schefter had to say to Dan Patrick on the radio today after conducting the interview:

I’ll transcribe part of this for you so that you don’t have to listen to Schefter’s gears get stripped as he thinks out his answers …

SCHEFTER: What he meant by that was he feels like he should not have put himself in that situation around that woman at that time of night around alcohol, and that was his mistake he should never have done that. But in his mind he swears he never put a finger on this woman. And people can believe what they want.

PATRICK: Do you believe it?

SCHEFTER: Doesn’t matter what I believe Dan, right?

Actually, it does, Adam. Because you were the one who got to sit down with that useless fuck and try to get some answers out of him. “You see, in Greg Hardy’s mind, he believes he is Braxyll, King Of The Giant Squab Beasts. But who am I to say if he’s correct or not?”

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But here is where it gets worse:

SCHEFTER: I went in with the idea that this guy is a monster. I came out of there with a very different feeling. I came out of there feeling this is a guy who has managed to say the wrong things at the wrong time.

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No one gives a shit about what Greg Hardy said, okay? His open desire to bang Tom Brady’s wife? That was just the after-dinner mint to the damning photographs of his PHYSICAL actions. How could you buy any of what Hardy said when he didn’t say anything? He only offered a mea culpa in the vaguest, least risky manner possible. Even Norman Mailer would have told this guy to eat shit.

More:

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SCHEFTER: I found him to be a changed kind of guy. A guy that realized he did make some mistakes, could have handled things differently. In regards to that incident, it’s such a tough thing… I’ll say this, he wasn’t wavering. He was adamant.

THAT’S BECAUSE HE’S FUCKING DELUSIONAL. You don’t get bonus points for your delusions if you REALLY stick to them. “Well, Bobby said he shot that baby because the baby was lookin’ at him funny, and I tell you what: I’ll give him points for his consistency!”

In this exchange, you can see just how easy it is for someone like Hardy to get away with domestic abuse. All you have to do is seem NICE, and be personable, and look somewhat even halfway chastened, and the Adam Schefters of the world will believe you, just because you shook their hand. You barely even have to be sorry, because Schefter was expecting, in his words, a monster—which no human being ever is 100 percent of the time—and was delightfully surprised to encounter a mere dickhead instead. And only a monster would beat up his girlfriend, right? Oh, well I met him face-to-face and he couldn’t be THAT bad.

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You know, there was one moment ages ago when Adam Schefter acted like a rational, thoughtful human being. Of course, that little hissy fit he threw the NFL’s way came long after he said a very dumb thing about another high profile domestic violence case regarding an NFL player …

I don’t need to tell you that there is a marked difference between your standard investigative journalist and the small cadre of Jim Cramers that dribble out trade news and phantom contract figures on behalf of the NFL and the agents who represent players (Hardy, by the way, is represented by jellied oil statue Drew Rosenhaus, who I’m sure has NEVER supplied Schefter with information that might benefit his clients). And you know what? It’s fine. If you wanna live in that wheelhouse with Peter King and the like, that’s your right.

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But don’t expect me to take you seriously when the time comes to evaluate whether or not Greg Hardy—a man who doesn’t deserve to sneak by on his charms—is rehabilitated. You could see Schefter desperately trying to navigate the numerous conflicts of interests littering his cell phone contact list as he tried to get decent answers out of Hardy. Between blindly granting him redemption and all those fucking Draft Kings tweets, Schefter should be forced to parade around on air with WHORE in blinking rainbow lights hanging from his neck. He was as well-suited to conduct this interview as I am to spend more than 10 minutes in direct sunlight. And if he can’t see that, well then he’s just as delusional as the man he was interrogating.