Archive for the ‘New Orleans Saints’ Category

Feb
6

Don’t Jenk Twice, It’s Alright

There's not a whole hell of a lot about Malcolm Jenkins not to like. He's a veteran leader and a defensive captain at only 26 years old. He plays a shit ton of snaps, and grading on the Saints defensive back curve, he's been uncommonly durable. He works incredibly hard, he's the epitome of an "effort guy" and he's made a handful of "clutch" hustle plays over the last five years — the most memorable examples of course being running down Vincent Jackson at the 1 on a 95-yard reception in 2012, and the Jenkpalm™ against Dallas on Thanksgiving Day 2010 — both of which saved those games. By all accounts, he's a smart, high-character guy, and just an all-around righteous dude. If you wanted to nitpick (and we're fans, so of course we do) there's really only one thing you could point to as a "problem" with Jenkins:

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Feb
9

Just One Pepsi -or- Smooth Up In Ya (Cont.)

Hey, who knew putting a little elbow grease into some actual semi-serious football "analysis" would go over so much better than our usual frivolous Saints-themed jackassery? Didn't see that coming. Preciate all the traffic and linkbacks and whatnot. The internets tell me that kind of stuff is important for some reason, so high five! Now let's see if we can't follow that up with a second consecutive post featuring legitimate football content that could reasonably be considered relevant and/or useful. By golly, it's so crazy it just might work! I'll do my best to keep this from becoming a rambling mess, but beyond that, I promise NOTHING!

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Jan
10

Rejoice, rejoice! We have no choice… (Part 1)

Welp. Welcome to another offseason, bitches. Might wanna grab yourself a drink and settle in for a while, because we're about to go all TL;DR on your asses. Even moreso than usual, that is.

WARNING: There will be math. Lots and lots of math. Lies, damn lies, advanced lies and statistics (both advanced and remedial.) We will also be pulling some things straight out of our asses and asking you to accept it as credible analysis. So while we eagerly await what are sure to be incredibly entertaining 2013 post-mortem pieces from our friends over at SaintsWin, AngryWhoDat and the Yellow Blog, let's try to get our money's worth out of that PFF subscription and see if we can't figure out just what the hell happened in 2013 and the manner in which we should carry on from here. Hope you brought your commemorative plain white towels, because we're also gonna go for a new record for longest moosedenied post ever. We're about to go Full Grantland up in this bitch! High five?

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Jan
10

Kickin’ It Old School

Gimme gimme gimme fried chicken!

So who figured Our Heroes were gonna strut into Philly Saturday night and party like it was 1987?

Fortunately, this time a combined 142 rushing yards from Hilliard and Mayes (and another 29 from Barry Word) along with a perfect 4-4 by the Ginger Dane — or was that Florian Kempf? — and a typically dominating defensive performance were able to overcome yet another two picks from the Cajun Cannon. (Word on the street is that they're thinking about going with Fourcade for the first half this weekend at Seattle.) And how about that Dombrowski kid?

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Jan
9

Why Do Foles Fall In Lava?

Welcome to January, bitches! And not a moment too soon. See you in hell, December.

Back in December 2009, the Saints had just escaped Atlanta with a 26-23 win, a week after having escaped with a 3-point overtime win at Washington. After the game, our friend @skooks tweeted: "Saints really just surviving at this point." That tweet stuck with me because with the Saints sitting at 13-0 at the time it was so counterintuitive, but it was also absolutely right. The Saints would go on to lose their next two games, scoring 17 points in each, and then they lost 23-10 in a week 17 forfeit at Carolina. Suddenly, even at 13-3 and in possession of the #1 seed in the NFC, the Saints were (quite reasonably) presumed dead.

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Dec
6

Cam On Feel The Noize

Sean Payton has been pretty candid all year about being a little rusty after returning from his forced sabbatical. We've seen it ourselves from time to time, particularly in playcalling and clock management situations.

Fortunately, it hasn't really been too big a deal. But I think we all agree that it has definitely been an actual thing, and it's to Coach Payton's credit that he acknowledges it. Sunday night we discovered that he's particularly out of practice in one other specific aspect of his game: the motivational gimmicks. Guh. You'd have to try really hard to come up with such a triple-whammy of bizarre, ill-conceived peripheral silliness. Which I suppose, in a way, kinda made it awesome.

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Nov
9

Ya can’t win, Rock!

"Ya can't win, Rock! This guy will kill you to death inside of three rounds!"

"No, he ain't just another fighter! This guy is a wrecking machine! And he's hungry!"

"They was good fighters, but they wasn't killers like this guy. He'll knock you to tomorrow, Rock!"

That's been the narrative coming from the national Legits™ and semi-legits all week leading up to the Main Event. Dallas and Atlanta was just a couple of palookas. Jobbers. Tomato cans. The football equivalent of Boxcar Ira. In between, the Saints stole a controversial split decision from San Francisco and ESPN's Outside the Lines is currently investigating whether they might have had a judge in their pocket. (John Barr is pretty sure they did.) But shit's about to get real now, and by the time it's over, the has-been ex-champ is gonna be lucky if he doesn't end up laying right beside Mickey Goldmill.

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Nov
19

Get Thee Behind Me, YSFD

That's what he said! What what? In the butt!

Have you ever witnessed an exorcism? I mean a real one, not the Bobby Jindal kind. If not, let me tell you, it's pretty fucked up.

I know this now, because it happened to me Sunday evening. Didn't even see it coming, it just kinda happened. And it was excruciating. I was fine before the game. Hell, I was fine at halftime. But shortly after that, it began. I couldn't see straight. I was unable to make sense of anything. I started to feel something chewing on my very soul. I could feel myself being completely taken over by some terrifying mix of crippling fear and blinding rage. I became completely powerless to stop myself from flailing wildly about and spewing an incessant stream of expletives as my friends repeatedly pleaded "What the fuck is wrong with you?!?" I think at some point they were convinced I was simultaneously having both an acute myocardial infarction and a complete mental breakdown. I was inconsolable. I couldn't be reasoned with. The demons had taken me by the testicles.

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Nov
12

Emotional Rescue

LUKE MCCOWN, BITCHES!

Given the way the offensive line had been playing through the first half of the season, I suspect most of us Saints fans were expecting our first Luke McCown sighting to happen amidst a very different set of circumstances. Fortunately, we got the good kind instead. High five! Now, I know what you're thinking, but I trust Sean Payton to not let this turn into a full-blown quarterback controversy. Fingers crossed. We also caught our first glimpse of Good Mark Ingram, which was as pleasant as it was unexpected. Hope you savored it, because it could be a while until we see it again.

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Nov
13

You know, we’re LIVING IN A SOCIETY!

We interrupt your regularly-scheduled Saints-themed jackassery for the following announcement:

Richie Incognito is a punk. A fat, sadistic, worthless piece of shit. Just a miserable excuse for a human being. A disgrace to his species. A complete waste of skin. He is the very embodiment of everything that's disgusting and repulsive about sociopathic big dumb meathead jock "culture." In case I'm not being clear here… Fuck. This. Guy. Fuck him, fuck everything about him, fuck everybody like him, and fuck anybody who's idiot enough to defend him. There is no gray area with this shitbag. There is no nuance to this situation. No room for a devil's advocate or "yeah, but…" arguments or "agreeing to disagree" or downplaying the severity of the issues here. Assholes like this guy are just the absolute worst. He's not a "man." He's an abusive junior-high goon who never grew up.

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Oct
18

A Nightmare That You’ll Never Be Discovering

WORST 35-17 WIN TO IMPROVE TO 6-1 ON THE SEASON EVER! They're gonna get their asses kicked if they play like that in Tuscaloosa!

I hate to be the one to break it to ya, because I know you don't wanna hear it, I know it's frightening and it makes you uncomfortable, but sooner or later we're gonna have to come to terms with the notion that the Saints are pretty clearly the best team in the NFC. Maybe by a lot. Hell, they might very well not lose another game. Keep checking under the bed if you must, but there ain't no bogeyman down there. Nick Saban Pete Carroll isn't hiding in the closet waiting for the perfect moment to jump out and eat your soul. It's okay to stop soiling yourself in fear that the nightmare scenarios in your head may potentially come true at some arbitrary point in the future. It's still daylight outside, for crying out loud.

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Oct
17

Why Football Happen As It Do

"Like mama used to say… it beez dat way sometimes. Have mercy!" ~Iceman King Parsons

Welp. Some days you're Ferris, and some days you're Rooney. From very early on Sunday afternoon, it just felt like it was gonna be one of those Rooney type days. No matter how much you're onto him, no matter how pegged you've got the whole situation, no matter how close you get to blowing the whole thing up and serving sweet justice, unfortunate circumstances and the occasional self-defeating ploy just repeatedly kick you in the face all day long while that slippery little bastard saunters his way into escape after narrow escape with a smug grin and a clever quip. Without a care in the world, he fucks up over and over again and comes out smelling like a rose anyway, while you keep getting boned right in the ass just when you think you've finally gotten the upper hand. And it just eats you up inside. Angrys up the blood.

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