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Sports News Without Fear, Favor or Compromise
Illustration for article titled Today I Declare To You That The Following Wideouts Are Dogshitem/em
Image: Sam Woolley (GMG), Photo: AP/Shutterstock

Drew Magary’s Thursday Afternoon NFL Dick Joke Jamboroo runs every Thursday during the NFL season. Email Drew here. Buy his book here.

By now, you know that this promises to be a record-setting season for NFL offenses. All of the tweaks and tworks and flarts that the NFL made to its rulebook in the name of “safety” were really just designed to artificially goose offensive production, and those changes have already borne fruit. There have never been as many passing touchdowns in the first four weeks of a season, and it’s not close. Same with passing yards and passer rating (in fact, the average passer rating this season is two points higher than Joe Montana’s CAREER passer rating). There have never been as many 400-yard passing games in the first four weeks of a season (last week busted a league record with five such games in a single slate). There have never been this many points scored in the first four weeks of a season. This is Patrick Mahomes’s first season as an NFL starter and he’s already on pace to set the single-season touchdown record. There has never been a better time to be a NFL quarterback, and there has never been a better time to be an NFL wide receiver…

UNLESS you are Sammy Watkins. If you have the grave misfortune of being Sammy Watkins, all of this whizz-bang offensive production has sailed right over your outstretched arms. Despite being the highest-paid pass catcher on Kansas City’s roster, Watkins has caught exactly one of Mahomes’s 14 touchdown passes. He has had only one 100-yard game. That remarkable comeback against Denver on Monday night? Watkins caught zero passes. This man is dogshit. This man has always been dogshit, and he is not alone.

You have to work very hard to be a shitty wideout in the current NFL, but there are MANY gentlemen who, for whatever reason, have taken it upon themselves to overcome such obstacles to failure. A good wideout needs to run crisp routes, gain separation from defenders, and catch the ball. You’d think NFL tape eaters would be able to discern that a player has these three qualities before expending a first-round pick on him, but you would be wrong. The hit rate on wideouts in the draft remains comically erratic. And a bad wideout can hang around this league FOREVER. You can have your reputation inflated by your draft position (that’s Watkins), or because you display a flash of explosiveness twice a year that deludes a team into thinking you can do it on a regular basis.

Well, no more. It’s time to call out these worthless, cement-limbed wideouts for what they are. And I, a professional BLOGGER, am just the man to do it. Today I stand upon a mount and declare to you, with unimpeachable authority, that the following wideouts are dogshit:

  • Sammy Watkins. Horrible. Complete dogshit.
  • Devin Funchess. Amazing how the Panthers traded away Kelvin Benjamin and replaced him with another Kelvin Benjamin. Total dogshit.
  • Kevin White. Always hurt. Has caught ZERO passes this season. He is the Christian Hackenberg of wideouts. Calling him dogshit is an insult to dogshit because at least dogshit is SOMETHING.
  • Kelvin Benjamin. Aren’t you amazed when he catches a pass? I know I am. This man may as well be in a wheelchair out there. Sounds like a big old pile of dogshit to me!
  • Josh Doctson. Here’s a fellow who can jump 90 feet in the air, and yet can do nothing with that particular skill. They should call him The Pigeon, because he can fly and yet no one likes him. He is pigeon shit.
  • DeVante Parker. Not Davante Adams. The dogshit one.
  • Tavon Austin. The reason Tavon Austin averages 36 yards a reception is because he catches two passes per year. He always breaks a long one and teams are like, “Oh wow, we gotta get this guy the ball more often!” And then they can’t, and you know why? Because he’s dogshit.
  • Terrelle Pryor. SO FUCKING SHITTY! Terrelle Pryor is the dog’s SECOND shit. You know how the first turd is nice and firm, and then the dog drops anchor a block later and it’s a fudgy mess? That’s Pryor.
  • Nelson Agholor. Midnight has struck, amigo! YOU JUST TURNED BACK TO DOGSHIT.
  • Laquon Treadwell. Somehow this asshole is the only guy in football who can’t be cut because his rookie deal is too onerous. I audibly groan when this honorary amputee is on the field. Why is he out there? Put a cornerback out there as the third wideout. ANYONE but this man. Here’s a one-way ticket to DOGSHIT CITY, buddy.
  • Randall Cobb. Every year Aaron Rodgers has to find a new primary target because he can never rely on Cobb to fill that role. Guess what, Randy? I found some dogshit the other day and it was YOU! You were the poop!
  • John Ross. Four catches. Wow, that averages out to one whole catch a game! PRETTY FUCKING SWEET! The Bengals, despite their history, actually churn out productive wideouts with some regularity. Not this time. You, John Ross, are the fittingly dogshit wideout that Cincy has long been waiting for.

And here are more! ALL DOGSHIT!

  • Phillip Dorsett
  • Ryan Grant
  • Donte Moncrief
  • Zay Jones
  • Paul Richardson
  • Jordan Matthews
  • Andre Holmes

You better watch your ass, Amari Cooper. You had a nice game last week but you are never far from this list. I’ll sniff out your fraudulence soon enough!


The Games

All games in the Jamboroo are evaluated for sheer watchability on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms.

Illustration for article titled Today I Declare To You That The Following Wideouts Are Dogshitem/em

Five Throwgasms

Jaguars at Chiefs: I am calling for a moratorium on “I’m Shipping Up To Boston” during all football games and telecasts. I heard it at least three separate times last weekend, during games that weren’t even played IN Boston. It’s a fucking scourge. Who asked for this? I’m trying to watch a football game and suddenly the stadium PA is blaring Angry Mumford & Sons. Get that song the fuck out of here. We already have one “Jump Around.” We don’t need two.

Illustration for article titled Today I Declare To You That The Following Wideouts Are Dogshitem/em

Four Throwgasms

Colts at Patriots: The details of the Maryland football scandal are predictably nasty, and one of the things I can’t get over is how much these coaches get paid. D.J. Durkin makes $2.5 million, and that’s on the low end of CFB head coaching salaries. And then there’s strength coach Rick Court, who makes $285,000 a year. That’s $285,000 to spend half a year throwing weights at kids and calling them fat names. That’s fucking insane. Iowa pays their strength coach more than DOUBLE that amount. Absurd. How hard is it to be a strength coach? All you need is a 50-inch neck and a Gold’s Gym membership. Strength coaches are almost always completely insane and have ZERO background in muscular and skeletal physiology. These guys are all frauds, and they’re all essentially paid to abuse and injure players so that the head coach doesn’t personally have to. I say we ban strength coaches forever.

Illustration for article titled Today I Declare To You That The Following Wideouts Are Dogshitem/em

Three Throwgasms

Skins at Saints: Here’s a drinking game for you. Drink anytime Joe Tessitore goes into a commercial break by saying, “Monday. Night. FOOTBALL.” You will have blood poisoning within an hour. This man is, at all times, FIRED THE FUCK UP to be working Monday Night Football. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but he’s definitely out there on every broadcast going, “Folks, this is a FOOTBALL GAME BEING PLAYED.” He will gun down your family before you take that job away from him.


One more thing about MNF: This is the sort of thing our former video director Tim Burke would yell about out loud to no one, but I think they mix the announcing team down for these games. I can’t prove it, but the crowd is almost always as loud, if not louder, than Tessitore and the rest of the crew. I’m not complaining about this. I’ve always treated the announcers as ambient noise, so I like the idea of burying them in the mix so that I get just a little bit of them, but not too much. I wish they would have dialed down Gruden’s mic a good 90 percent before he did games.

Vikings at Eagles: At this point the NFC title game feels like it took place 57 million years ago. This year’s NFC title game will be the Rams versus the Rams, and that’s probably for the best. I’m biased but even I know the country would like a break from both the Vikings’ and the Eagles’ bullshit for a while.


Dolphins at Bengals: Why do we even HAVE Adam Schefter?


The man is a robot, so why doesn’t the NFL just use a real robot for his job? Why do execs and owners feed this mannequin scoops when they could just park a fucking animatronic bear outside league headquarters and have it call out transactions? What difference would it make? Adam Schefter blows, and I’m tired of this man prospering by being as aggressively bland as possible.

Ravens at Browns: Really strange feeling to watch the Browns get screwed out of a win instead of screwing themselves out of one. I feel like that’s a big step forward for them.


Falcons at Steelers

Illustration for article titled Today I Declare To You That The Following Wideouts Are Dogshitem/em

Two Throwgasms

Giants at Panthers: Ben McAdoo was right about Eli and the Giants owe him an apology. Not a FULL apology, mind you. He was still a terrible coach who deserved to be fired. But they definitely owe him, like, an extra five bucks in severance. Anyway, enjoy the Gettleman Bowl.


Rams at Seahawks: I need Pete Carroll to be fired soon because the postmortem of his time in Seattle is gonna be AMAZING. You know damn well that one awesome SI article was just the tip of the iceberg. We’re gonna get VOLUMES of books detailing how much these guys all fucking hated one another.

As for the Rams, I can already see a timeline developing where they win a Super Bowl, become the next Greatest Show On Turf, and then quickly fall apart, languishing in that new stadium for 20 more years before bolting to another city and starting the process all over again.


Cowboys at Texans: I went to a circus this summer that was essentially a discount Cirque du Soleil where, for $20 a ticket, you could watch Italian carnies fly around and stand on a tower of basketballs and shit. Anyway, this circus took place at a big top set up in the parking lot of a Virginia mall, and the day we took our kids, it was roughly a billion degrees out. The tent provided shade, but little in the way of ventilation. So I’m sitting there with my kids, and we’re all fanning each other to keep cool, and a woman passed out right in front of us. Everyone around rushed to her aide with water and calls for help, and a team of medics came in with a gurney to take the poor woman to a hospital.

Now, as this is going on, the circus DOES NOT STOP. This lady may fucking die right in the tent, and they’re still jumping through big iron rings and shit on stage. I didn’t know whether to be outraged or impressed. She was getting wheeled out in front of horrified kids and there was still a dude, like, doing rope gymnastics 20 feet in the air. I’m never going to the circus ever again.


Titans at Bills: I would just like to salute Corey Davis for combining eye black and Breathe Right nasal strips into a single, face-wide appendage. I think he should start decorating it with stars and Japanese calligraphy and what not. Remember when Neil Smith made nose Band-Aids a football trend in the ‘90s? Let’s bring that BACK.

One other note about eye black: Have you ever noticed that soccer players never use it? Baseball and football players use eye black. Why not soccer players? They’re out there in the sun with NO eye protection. My lad ‘Arry Kane is gonna go blind, he is! I say we give soccer players eye black, and then we outfit them in adorable little pageboy caps to protect them from harmful UV rays. 


Packers at Lions: How’d you like that playcalling, Aaron Rodgers?

We need to find ways to get our playmakers in position to get some more opportunities. You know, a game like today — Davante’s a tough cover for anybody, but he should have had 20 targets today.


I know that Mike McCarthy has already downplayed those comments and told the media, “Actually, my QB telling me I’m a moron is awesome and good,” but I’ve watched this man call games for over a decade now. If anything, he’s gonna target Davante Adams even less now. He’s gonna trade Davante Adam for DeVante Parker.

Raiders at Chargers

Illustration for article titled Today I Declare To You That The Following Wideouts Are Dogshitem/em

One Throwgasm

Cardinals at Niners: I was at the gym the other day and had to take a shit, so I go into the stall and do my dirty sinful business. And when I get up, I look back and there’s a fucking HUGE roach sitting right under the bowl. I dunno if he skittered under there while I was shitting, or if I simply hadn’t noticed that he was there before I sat down. Regardless, that fucking thing was inches away from my bare ass. He could have climbed up into my butt and laid eggs in me! I’m forever haunted. I didn’t say anything to the front desk but I want that toilet burned. 


Broncos at Jets

Pregame Song That Makes Me Want To Run Through A Goddamn Brick Wall 

“Love Spill,” by Radkey! Here’s Matthew:

Radkey is a punk rock band formed in 2010 by three home schooled brothers from Missouri. Sounding a bit like the Misfits, the Radke (their surname) boys have toured throughout the U.S., across the pond, and can’t believe the Chiefs blew that fucking Wild Card game.


Does this video feature dirtbags doing stuff with skateboards? My friend, you know it does. I double-checked the band’s bio to see if former Twins pitcher Brad Radke was a member. Alas, he is not. Maybe he could play keyboards for them or something.

Gregg Easterbrook Memorial Haughty Dipshit Of The Week

Illustration for article titled Today I Declare To You That The Following Wideouts Are Dogshitem/em

Everyone has already dumped on this warm batch of bathhouse sewage in The Atlantic from Professional Concerned Person Benjamin Wittes. But that won’t stop me from doing likewise. Wittes, known primarily for crying out “Stand by for news!” on Twitter when none is forthcoming, is HAUNTED WITH DOUBT about his good buddy Brett Kavanaugh…

This is an article I never imagined myself writing, that I never wanted to write, that I wish I could not write.


Ah yes. Kavanaugh stands accfused of committing attempted rape. He’s also determined to sit upon the highest court in the land and will almost certainly rule in favor of laws that disenfranchise the vulnerable and cause them permanent, mass suffering. But fuck all that, what does all this mean FOR BEN?

If I were a senator, I would not vote to confirm Brett Kavanaugh. These are words I write with no pleasure, but with deep sadness.


Who the fuck cares about you, buddy? Christine Blasey Ford just spilled her guts in front of the Senate, knowing full well those ghouls wouldn’t listen to a damn word she said. And things are hard for YOU? Eat a fucking fencepost.

Unlike many people who will read them with glee—as validating preexisting political, philosophical, or jurisprudential opposition to Kavanaugh’s nomination—I have no hostility to or particular fear of conservative jurisprudence.


“Unlike SOME savages, I for one bear no hostility toward conservative judges whose chief objective is to ruin lives for everyone but the wealthy.”

I have a long relationship with Kavanaugh, and I have always liked him.

So? So he was nice to you. Big fucking deal. People tend to be nice, you know. People are cordial and pleasant, and then you walk away and they turn into fucking monsters. I’m from Minnesota. I know how this works. Friendship is cheap among phonies.

I have admired his career on the D.C. Circuit.

Why? Because he looked nice in a robe? Because he used big words? All these white shoe lawyer types are always VERY impressed with one another. They greet each other warmly at expensive restaurants and clubs, and they all operate under the delusion that they share a passion for deep thinking. Like Brett Kavanaugh here isn’t just another middle-aged pud with an unremarkable beer habit.

I have spoken warmly of him.

Well that was your mistake.

I have published him.


I have vouched publicly for his character—more than once—and taken a fair bit of heat for doing so.


Truly, you are the real hero here. Such bold risks!

I have also spent a substantial portion of my adult life defending the proposition that judicial nominees are entitled to a measure of decency from the Senate and that there should be norms of civility within a process that showed Kavanaugh none even before the current allegations arose.


MERRICK GARLAND, FUCKBOY. Take your norms of civility and rinse out your colon with them.

I hate this. I hate this fucking guy. This country is falling apart and THIS is the kind of formal opposition we get… this limp, soggy, stammering resistance. I will print this column out and burn it in the fucking town square. You, Benjamin Wittes, are a useless human being. Useless to the core. These are words I write with GREAT pleasure, and with ZERO sadness of any sort. I write them with uncommon glee, because I know a fucking coward when I see it.


Cryptkeeper Al Davis Lock Of The Week: Colts +10 

Illustration for article titled Today I Declare To You That The Following Wideouts Are Dogshitem/em

“EEEE HEE HEE HEE HEE! Sorry, TOMB Brady! But I think on Thursday FRIGHT Football, the Colts will be the team that HAUNTS it more! I really think they’ll make the GHOST of it! EEEEEEEEE HEE HEE HEE HEE! Hey, And-BOO Luck! I hope you can throw a HELL Mary for this one! A loss like this could be MURRRRDER for your chances!”

2018 Cryptkeeper record: 2-1-1

Fantasy Player Who Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death

It’s Leonard Fournette, who pulled the dreaded “injured guy who comes back too soon and immediately bows out of the game after six seconds” move. And he did it after tweeting THIS:

Illustration for article titled Today I Declare To You That The Following Wideouts Are Dogshitem/em

Well actually, LENNY, your clumsy double negative tweet was prescient. Because all weapon forms very much DID shall prosper against you, because your sorry ass wasn’t out on that field!!!! YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I’m just angry at everyone this week!!!!

Bad Local Commercial Of The Week! 

BUFFET PALACE! Bryan says:

“Buffet Palace! This guy just eats in the buffet line without even getting a plate!”


Well, that’s clearly because it’s a tribute to Animal House … a horrible, awful, disjointed tribute to Animal House. I really admire the theme song here. BUFFET PALACE … THE BEST BUFFET! I believe it. Fourteen kinds of sushi AND a soft-serve machine? Now that’s what I call a buffet!

(NOTE: Just send me CURRENT awful local commercials. Don’t send me Crazy Eddie.)

Fire This Asshole!

Is there anything more exciting than a coach losing his job? All year long, we’ll keep track of which coaches will almost certainly get fired at year’s end or sooner. And now, your potential 2018 chopping block:

Dirk Koetter*

Matt Patricia

Adam Gase

Todd Bowles

Bill O’Brien

Jon Gruden

Jason Garrett

Mike McCarthy

Dan Quinn

Pete Carroll

Mike Tomlin

Steve Wilks

Pat Shurmur

Mike Zimmer

Hue Jackson

(*potential midseason firing)

I’m not putting Frank Reich on here. I know it blew up in his face when he went for it on fourth down in overtime last week, but at least the sentiment was admirable. That man was NOT going to let that game end in a tie. Bill O’Brien, by contrast, did everything possible to make sure it did. He kicked a FG from the 11. He let the clock run out instead of taking a timeout. His team was 0-3 at the time, mind you. How many times has DeAndre Hopkins cursed this man under his breath?


Great Moments In Grandpa History

Reader Jason sends in this story I call YAHTZEE THE 13th:

My maternal grandparents would get together with another couple to play games of Yahtzee and Pit. I never was present during the bell-ringing madness that came with Pit, but as a child, I was fortunate to have witnessed the carnage that came from Yahtzee night.

That night, after a few games, my grandpa finally got close to winning one and he was getting more and more excited. As the cup came back around to him, he shook it up, and rolled, only to have his friend Rudy sweep the dice up off the table as soon as they hit. This prevented my grandpa from adding up his score. Rudy did it two more times and my grandpa suddenly erupted into this cartoon level of red-faced rage.

He got up, headed to the garage and came back with a Jason Voorhees-quality meat cleaver, promptly smacked the flat of it down on the table and glared at Rudy.


I was terrified. My grandpa was about to murder the shit out of one of his friends. I hightailed it into the other room to watch TV so I wouldn’t be a witness the ensuing bloodbath.

As an adult, I found out this was a regular joke brought on by a case of generic beer and that everyone knew he was joking. Except six-year-old me. For more than 20 years, I thought the guy was a homicidal maniac just waiting to go off and everyone was silent about it because they were worried they’d be next.


I love a good cleaver joke. Why have a cleaver if you’re not gonna playfully threaten murder with it?

Gametime Snack Of The Week

Illustration for article titled Today I Declare To You That The Following Wideouts Are Dogshitem/em

Baba ganoush! The other hummus! PSA: Before you indulge in a delicious, salty tub of baba ganoush, do be sure to check the label for ingredients. Some places make it with MAYONNAISE, which, as we all know, is an act of war.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week

Illustration for article titled Today I Declare To You That The Following Wideouts Are Dogshitem/em

ROCKDALE LIGHT! Oh fuck yeah! Listen man, I love featuring bizarre foreign swill in this spot. But sometimes I gotta bring it back home and find a suitably horrible domestic brew with lots of fucking mountains on the box. Here’s Rex:

I discovered this at a Grocery Outlet store in Oakland for the alcoholic-can’t-pass-it-up-price of $3.99 A CASE. Grocery Outlet carries a surprisingly great selection of craft beers, IPAs, etc., but for about four bucks, I had to take a trip back in time to my poor, cheap-buying days of college. This beer is so weak that it makes Coors Light have the strength of Pliny the Elder. I plan on drinking a can of it every time my Seahawks end the first half this year with less than a touchdown on the scoreboard. That should be about 13 games this season.


Four bucks for a CASE! Holy shit! Is that… is that the cheapest beer in the country? I have never seen a price point that low. I bet that beer is made of pure mercury. I MUST HAVE IT.

Jim Tomsula’s Lifehack Of The Week!

Illustration for article titled Today I Declare To You That The Following Wideouts Are Dogshitem/em

“I don’t like all this instant replay, okay? I don’t trust video. They can do a lot of things with the video now. Someone sent me a video of me eating an entire box of beef bouillon cubes, and that never happened. It was chicken bouillon, and I was out of the country when I did it. Somebody set me up… like Carolina Steve, who’s always had it in for me ever since I repo’ed his girlfriend for the Komanski Brothers, who were owed a SIGNIFICANT amount of money that Steve wouldn’t pay.

“Anyway, I got off track there for a second. REPLAY. You don’t need that replay, all right? You got a doubt about a call? You come see me. I’ll be your replay. I remember it all. You wanna come to me about that Clay Matthews hit the other week? I saw it. I saw him land on my QB, and I saw him reach into his pants and pull out a certain substance which I will not mention here. Not saying it was powdered Drano, but I’m not saying it wasn’t. Make me the replay expert and I’ll tell it all. I see the things cameras won’t.”


Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Cardinals Fans

Ant-Man, which is a perfectly solid movie, especially whenever Michael Peña or Michael Douglas grace the screen. HOWEVER… I am getting sick to death of superhero movies where the villains can do the exact same shit as the hero. It happens in this movie. It happens in Iron Man. It happens in Black Panther. It even happens in Venom. It’s not that hard to give the villain different powers, and yet every movie is like, “This one pits Spiderman against GREEN Spiderman!” Knock it off. It’s better when the villain and hero have separate powers that they can use to exploit one another’s weak areas. When both guys can do the same thing, they just end up, like, wrestling in mid-air. It’s dumb.


By the way, Ant-Man is a highly commercialized popcorn movie that just happens to introduce the idea of a man going subatomic and shrinking forever and ever and ever into nothingness. That is… uncomfortable for me. I don’t like thinking about that.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote

“Krusty, do you think about your father a lot?”

“All the time. Except when I’m at the track. Then it’s all business.”

Enjoy the games, everyone.

Drew Magary is a Deadspin columnist and columnist for GEN magazine. You can buy Drew's second novel, The Hike, through here.

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