Some people are fans of the Indianapolis Colts. But many, many more people are NOT fans of the Indianapolis Colts. This 2016 Deadspin NFL team preview is for those in the latter group. Read all the previews so far here. And buy Drew’s new book here.
Your team: MayonnaiseLand Colts.
Your 2015 record: 8-8. “What in the world…”
God, that play was so great. Just a whole country going WHAT THE FUCK in unison as poor Griff Whalen committed designed suicide. There’s true comfort to be had in watching professional athletes and coaches make an error so obvious and so breathtakingly stupid that you, the viewer at home, can say “I would have done that better” and have it literally be true. I owe half my self-esteem to this play.
Also, the head coach publicly said that play was designed to never be run. Wonderful. Fucking great. I’d like to see this team’s full playbook section devoted to Shit Too Dumb To Actually Use. I bet Jim Irsay installed a SELF-DESTRUCT button at team headquarters and goes around asking all the players to not push it.
And who was the mastermind behind this unforgettable boner?
Your coach: Why, it’s Chuck “They can’t eat you” Pagano! That’s right. The Colts kept Chuck, along with General Manager and “parking valet who has lots of big business dreams” Ryan Grigson. If you recall, the relationship between Pagano and Grigson became so toxic last season that, at one point, Pagano openly shaded his boss for failing to give this team a decent line:
Despite that lingering hostility, and the fact that Grigson is the man who traded for Trent Richardson, and the fact that these idiots nearly got Andrew Luck killed last season, you’re supposed to believe that they’re still the best men for the job, and that they also get along famously:
“Jim,” Pagano told Irsay, “I want to make sure I’m tied at the hip with Ryan… I want to make sure when we get to the mountaintop that Ryan and I are there together, because we’ve been through a lot together. We have a special relationship and a close relationship.”
Jesus Christ. Take all the cheese currently clogging your average Indy resident’s arteries and then form it into a person. That’s Chuck Pagano. This front office is the corniest bunch of jackasses in football. I bet Irsay splits his Oxy supply with all of them to ease the tension.
Your quarterback: Man-eating Frankengoober Andrew Luck, who is now much more vulnerable than I had ever previously assumed:
Prior to last season, I figured the only way you could take down Andrew Luck was a mob of angry villagers wielding pitchforks and sleeping charms. Not so! Thanks to Grigson’s penchant for signing ancient skill-position players and linemen who can’t take criticism, Luck spent last season with a separated shoulder, a lacerated kidney, a hyperextended beard, four baby hands stuck in his teeth, and a nasty case of trench brain. I wonder why this team can’t keep anyone healthy. Could it be because Irsay believes playing football is roughly as dangerous as taking aspirin?
Look at it. You take an aspirin, I take an aspirin, it might give you extreme side effects of illness and your body … may reject it, where I would be fine. So there is so much we don’t know.
So true. Join us later this year when Irsay personally prescribes toast and jam to cure Luck of third-degree whiplash.
Even before the team formally shut Luck down last year, he was having his worst season as a professional. That’s not supposed to happen. The great ones may suffer injuries, or have an off game, but they don’t have off years. It’s possible that the Colts just plunked down $87 million for a player that they’ve already ruined forever. Nice job, Grigson. You fucking shithead. Go park my Kia.
Oh, and if Luck gets his spleen thrown into a Cuisinart again, there’s no more Matt Hasselbeck around to shamefully drag you within arm’s reach of the AFC South title. Scott Tolzien is your new backup. FUN FACT: Scott Tolzien has never actually played a down at quarterback at any level. He’s actually a male model from the Czech Republic.
What’s new that sucks: Are you creaming your jeans at the idea of Robbie Turbin playing in this offense? No? Well then, not much has changed. Grigson finally drafted a lineman (center Ryan Kelly, seen here looking like every father currently residing in Indiana) instead of an injured wideout to help Luck. Otherwise, it’s the same shitty team with the same shitty management destined to ruin the one bright spot on the roster. By midseason, bolts from the fucking stadium roof are gonna fall on Luck’s head.
Also, Zurlon Tipton shot himself to death by accident. I’m shocked Marvin Harrison wasn’t implicated somehow.
What has always sucked: I’m so used to sportswriters faintly praising Indianapolis (“You can walk around there! There’s a nice Marriott, too!”) that I naturally assumed it’s a pleasant, if dull, city. Not so. I ran into a couple of Indy natives this summer and I was like, “Oh hey, I hear that town is all right!” And they were like, “Nope. No, it sucks.” See the town travel guide for yourself!
The founders of Indianapolis expected it to be the “Great Inland Port,” but they neglected to consider the fact that the White River is impossible to navigate most of the year; other than during the spring, it is a melange of sandbars and temporary islands. However, this port-desire left the city with a beautiful, if useless, canal district.
Sounds awesome. I should have known. I should have known this place was a mistake. I should have known that Indy is a convention center that someone made into a full city. I should have known that the drive-through state responsible for 60 percent of America’s angry white man population would be a total shithole. Indianapolis is a person who’s never been to a big city’s conception of a big city. Our Lindsey Adler went to the combine and reported that there was a food place at the mall called “Lite On The Mayo” (I looked it up; it’s true), because a Colt fan’s idea of health food is anything not swabbed in 50 gallons of egg grease.
Indiana is trapped in a time warp. They didn’t even need to buy period props for Stranger Things to get the setting right. Their only export is overrated white jump shooters. The Klan literally ran this state, and locals now view that more as a fun bit of trivia than a horrifying disgrace. Its only redeeming quality is that it’s a relatively short drive to Chicago if you need to flee. Also, the Indy 500 is dumb and should be discontinued. Why do they drink milk at the end? Have a beer, for god’s sake. I hate this state.
What might not suck: The punter seems cool. We should kidnap him and take him across state lines before Indiana ruins him and turns him into a Mike Pence clone.
Let’s remember some Colts:
- Anthony Gonzalez
- Paul Justin
- Kirk Lowdermilk
- Jason Belser
- Sean Dawkins
Hear it from Colts fans!
The Broncos have won more Super Bowls with QBs drafted by the Colts than the Colts have.
Besides New England, is there any fan base more insufferable than Colts fans? We’re talking about people who actually buy a punter’s jersey unironically. I’m serious, Drew. You go to Lucas Oil Stadium and see far more jerseys of Pat fucking McAfee than Robert Mathis. It’s ridiculous. Then you have the mega assholes who wear those ridiculous Broncos/Colts Split-Jerseys of Peyton Manning. People actually wear these, man. A lot of people. And then they get pissy when you call them out for that bullshit. They should all be launched directly into the sun.
They’re absolutely BRUTAL on social media, too. They are the epitome of the corny, un-hip, Midwestern, possibly racist, white stereotype that I’m sure many think our state is filled with. They still use that #ChuckStrong hashtag for some god-damned reason, and if I see one more person tweet “For the Shoe” or “We have Luck” one more god-damned time, I might just snap.
They’re also a bunch of hypocrites. Colts players, much like IU Basketball players, can get away with drugs, DUIs, etc., but if Paul George shoves their precious Cody Zeller during a game, he and the rest of the Pacers are labeled as “thugs”.
Andre Johnson can go get fucked by a rusty tire iron.
The problem with the Colts is that they have fooled everyone into thinking that they’re legitimately a Super Bowl contender. Andrew Luck playing for the Colts is the equivalent of having a Formula One engine in a rusted out, beat-to-shit 1992 Honda Civic hatchback. Sure, compared to a stock 1992 Honda Civic (read: every other team in the AFC South) it’s better. Compared to a real fucking Indy car, it’s laughable.
Jim Irsay is too busy running a mobile pharmacy out of his car to competently manage the franchise. The Colts will continue the rich tradition started by Peyton Manning in Indy: trot out an all-world QB, let him single handedly try to lead the team to victory while ignoring the defense, special teams, and the run game, win a terrible division, and get smoked in the playoffs by the Patriots or any other team with a competent defense. This gameplan, however, assumes that Luck won’t get any of his other vital organs lacerated during the season.
Also, fuck the Gregg Williams Washington defense that destroyed Manning’s spine.
I’m really glad Irsay held that press conference announcing we were keeping Pagano and Grigson just so my first sexual experience could feel a little less awkward.
Our defense is softer than puppy shit and inevitably will make some D3 7th rounder in Jacksonville look like the next Clinton Portis. The only thing that’s more sad than watching this team choke to the Patriots every fucking year is seeing how many Manning jerseys are in the stands.
-We get gifted at least 4 free wins a year because we get to play the Texans, Jaguars, and Titans 6 times a year and just have to show up with a pulse to get those wins. In return, we get our standard 10 to 12 wins a year as opposed to winning 5-7 times a year and you know, actually changing the way you do things to make a good team. We make the playoffs, normally avoid Wild Card weekend, then get demolished by the same team(s) every year (rhymes with Schmew Schmengland and Schmittsburgh) because you know, they get themselves ready to win a Super Bowl.
-Chuck Pagano ran the worst play in the NFL season last year, yet our pill addicted owner decides hey, fuck all you people I am smarter than you, were going to resign him to one of the biggest coaching salaries in the league.
-I saw a Colts fan legitimately angry we beat the Broncos last year because they cared more about Peyton’s legacy than our team.
-We then gave up 50 points to the Jags and lost to Houston when we actually knew it might lead us to a playoff berth. But no worries, we got everyone back!
-Our favorite player is our drunk punter who is on a comedy show tour during the offseason.
I will talk to you again next year. We will be 10-6 in the season, get destroyed by... let’s say the Steelers this year, why not; and realize I am stuck to rooting for the biggest cock tease in the NFL, where I cannot brag, but I also cannot complain either.
Our owner is a 57 year-old billionaire who still draws inspiration from “On the Road” and who just rehired a GM that can’t get along with his beloved-by-the-players head coach and who’s known best for being tricked by the Browns.
We wasted Peyton Manning (who was awesome) and are repeating all of the same mistakes with Andrew Luck.
We have an owner with a serious drug problem. We have a GM that, even with decades of evidence to suggest otherwise, still thinks free agency is just as important as the draft to building an NFL team. And we have a coach who I’m convinced is just a robot programmed to say the same 5 coach-speak phrases over and over.
But because our QB is so good when healthy we’re probably going to win 9-11 games and never get far in the playoffs because the rest of the roster is made up a defense with no talent and an O-line that couldn’t block Purdue or IU’s practice squad. And you know what? Most of our pork tenderloin eating, Sun King-swilling fan base could care less. They’re just happy to have a team in little ole Indiana.
Just because we sucked for a decade and a half pre-Peyton doesn’t mean we shouldn’t want a little more in the way of playoff success and Super Bowls. We fell ass-backward into two generational talents in a row and will probably only have one rain-soaked Super Bowl victory over Rex fucking Grossman to show for it. We don’t deserve Andrew Luck, and he knows it but is too nice to say anything.
I wonder if it’s more enjoyable to be a Buffalo Bills fan. I mean, they KNOW they suck and clearly the only purpose in going to a game is to get blackout drunk and perform some highly regrettable act that everyone on the internet can laugh at. The Colts give all these hapless-fuck fans a reason to think they can win (Andrew Luck) while there is no logical explanation as to how they could. With a GM who looks like he waltzed off the set of a Cinemax movie entitled “Bikini Flag Football,” that values first round picks like change I find under my seat, there is no possible way this team will win anything meaningful. But yet, these Trump supporting simpletons still trot out their Bob Sanders jerseys year after year perplexed as to why the “Coats” can’t seem to win an important game.
Our owner is basically the corpse from Weekend at Bernie’s but instead of being puppeted around by his friends, he found a way to actually animate his own dead body by packing it full of a recipe of uppers and booze known only to him. He uses his extended corpse-life to tweet lyrics to classic rock songs.
We love our quarterback for being the MOST INDIANA because he is so humble, and likes that real good book-learnin’, and is such a polite boy. In reality, he’s super boring and we can’t even hope for stories of him getting loaded and taking a midnight swim in the canal. None of us are sold on whether he’s actually a good QB because we have never had a O-line that could protect him even though he’s a pretty built dude.
We make it to or near the playoffs every year because we are the least garbage team in a garbage division but this year even that looks like it might not be a guarantee.
The entire city got super pissed at Reggie Wayne who is by all accounts just an awesome person because we released him and he went to the Patriots. We got mad at a dude who served us well for 14 years because he wanted to keep playing football and he went with our rivals*. And we felt justified in this.
*I’m reasonably sure Patriots fans don’t even remember that we exist unless someone brings up Ballghazi, in which we of course played the tattle-tales all mad because they completely destroyed us in the AFC Championship.
Our best player is our punter who now does standup in the offseason. I can’t actually bitch about that, which is probably part of the problem.
We beat the Super Bowl champs yet have to take Jacksonville to OT. The entire planet knows the douchebag GM & the head coach hate each other. We remedy this by extending them both because our owner is high as a kite on any pills & backwash whiskey he can get his hands on. The only bright thing we did all year was shit-can Pep Hamilton.
Fuck Ryan Grigson with a broken mop handle.
‘Daddy’s name is Oliver.’ - Bitchy rich kid voice.
WHY THE FUCK ARE PAGANO AND GRIGSON STILL HERE!?
Jesus Christ one of these two idiots I could live with but both? How?
I assume when Irsay sat down with them he pulled a Mr. Burns and had an ether-induced hallucination imagining the two to be the Pillsbury Dough Boy.
The pill popping owner signed Ryan Grigson to a contact extension three months after the franchise QB was knocked out for the remainder of the season because the POS doesn’t know how to evaluate offensive line talent. Not to mention the fact that he and Pagano might kill each other during training camp.
It took months of injuries, sacks, terrible offensive performance, and political clout to convince our higher-ups that an Offensive Lineman is a valid choice in the draft.
Also, we still managed to somehow be proud of getting 2nd in the AFC South. We deserve to get shit on.
I’m a lifelong Indianapolis resident, and I’m dreading the karma we have coming our way thanks to this fucking team. We teamed up with an alcoholic to steal a franchise from Baltimore under the cover of night. Then, we lucked into a once in a generation quarterback and ran him so far into the ground that he couldn’t tie his own shoes at 40. Then, we draft another once in a generation quarterback. Happy day, right?
NOPE! Drunkie’s son decided he’d rather spend his days doing blow than watching game tape of offensive linemen, so we’ve already run golden goose number two into the ground.
Then, after an entire season of in-fighting between a shitty GM and a middling coach, Irsay Jr. popped some pills, played his acoustic guitar, tweeted some Uncle Kracker lyrics, and decided that those two shit stains could probably work it out.
This time next year, Jim Irsay will be a senior advisor to the Trump White House, the Colts’ offensive line will be cited for 100 OSHA violations for workplace safety, and Lucas Oil Stadium will be converted to a concert venue for conventions.
Yes, our owner is a druggy. He’s in Indiana, for god’s sake. 60% of the population are druggies there.
Our front office is garbage. Luck will get to suffer through his career as a playoff choker because he’ll drag the stupid team to 11 wins a year and get blown out in the playoffs. Then he’ll fucking leave and go to Denver and Denver will win another goddamn championship with another QB drafted by the Colts. God I hate my team.
Not only is it terrible that the Colts traded a first round pick for Trent Richardson and he became the John Romero’s Daikatana of all-time running backs, but he missed both the Colts walkthrough for the AFC championship game and the chartered plane to New England and didn’t contact anyone because of “phone problems.” It was 2014 and the worst ball carrier in the league claims his telecommunications company dropped the ball.
And yet, considering how bad he played all year, he was still worse than our running backs who managed a total of 83 yards, with 18 of those coming from Andrew Luck (Zurlon Tipton had 14!).
It would have been better had Trent succeeded on another team, because at least Pagano and Grigson could say that they traded for a player with talent, and that he just got too distracted making amateur porn videos and cosplaying Violet Beauregard. Football Outsiders ranked him as the third worst running back in 2014 when he was supposed to start, in front of a guy who was a professional security guard before walking onto the Detroit Lions (Joique Bell) and Alfred Blue. If you Google “Worst running back of all time” or “Worst RB in NFL” every single link on the Google results page references Trent Richardson.
When Andrew Luck leaves football without a Super Bowl and becomes a professional architect, he’ll get busy designing the “Ryan Grigson center for people who can’t GM Good.”
Fuck Trent Richardson.
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