Drunken Retardation and the Detroit Lions

For a while on Sunday the Lions managed to run in a straight line without shitting their pants, thus going above and beyond what I said they would do in my preview of the game. Of course, they didn't run particularly fast or well and while they didn't shit themselves they definitely had a turtle head poking out the whole time just waiting to drop. And drop it did. When Santana Moss housed a punt to put the Redskins up 23-10 a few different things happened. Most Lions fans groaned, I laughed deliriously, like a loon, and my poor retarded kid, the Detroit Lions, finally let loose with the explosive diarrhea that we all just knew was waiting to come out, spun around, fell down and began crying.

Calvin Johnson did make a play to bring the Lions back to within one score and while they tried on defense those poor bastards couldn't make a play when it counted. Jason Campbell looked like he could have thrown for a million yards if he wanted to. Every time the Redskins threw the ball down the field they were successful and I was left with the distinct impression that Raven was right in his analysis of his team. Jim Zorn is not a particularly good coach and his game management both from a play calling perspective and a time management one were suspect. More plays down the field to Santana Moss would have broken the Lions back long before they actually did and the last drive at the end of the first half was absolutely atrocious. The Redskins continually fucked up and putzed around, eating a lot of time off the clock but the Lions bailed them out again and again by allowing big plays when all they needed was one measly stop to head into the locker room with a 10-3 lead. The Redskins managed a field goal, cutting the lead to 10-6, which did its part by zapping all the life out of Ford Field, but also should have left Redskins fans upset that they couldn't manage a touchdown which the Lions were determined to gift wrap for them. But, this is about the Lions and not the Redskins and so I will let that go. And instead, I will focus on the immediate ennui which set in once that field goal sailed through the uprights.

The Lions stink. That much is obvious, and you should all know by now that such a statement is almost criminal in how little it does to actually describe the futility going on here. Despite all this, they caught a sleepwalking Redskins team and got out to a 10-3 lead. But because of how depressingly putrid the Lions really are any lead is going to come with an inherent sense of fragility. It is like hanging out with your horrible drunk of a friend at a party. Even though he hasn't had anything to drink yet and everyone is having a good time you know it is only a matter of time before someone hands him a beer or a bottle of Jack and when the night ends with him pissing in a house plant or the fish tank or drunkenly groping your other friend's girlfriend, leading to a bunch of drama that nobody wants or needs, you're not gonna remember that for a couple of hours he was on his best behavior. No, you'll remember the black eye he mysteriously acquired at some point in the night and the vomit he left in the backseat of your car and you'll know and understand all too well that it is his nature and any hope that may creep up on you is just a false hope. It is evil, it is cruel, and it will happen every goddamn time.

And sure enough, when the third quarter started the Lions took their first sip of the devil's brew and by the end of the quarter they were getting loud and aggressive, threatening to fight random people and smashing bottles and putting out their cigarettes in the carpet. And then Santana Moss returned that punt, the Lions pissed in the closet and started grabbing random asses. After that, it was over. It just was, and even though the Lions tried to play it straight, said that they were cool and that they were going to maintain, it became obvious that the party was over and the Lions just had to get the fuck out of there before someone got hurt. But still, somehow they managed to walk the line between just drunkenly stupid and full on disaster, getting the ball back with enough time to move down the field. And again, somehow they managed to barely function, moving in fits and starts but when Calvin Johnson was smacked down short of the marker on fourth down by London Fletcher, the Lions finally shit their pants, began bellowing incoherently and had to be dragged out of there so they could sleep it off and live to disappoint us all again another day.

Sadly, there is no rehab for what the Lions are going through. Maybe the best thing is to just let them stay at the party and get the shit kicked out of them over and over again. That might be the only way they learn that they are too fucking miserable to be around. Let them get completely cleaned out and start over again at zero. Look, in my last two posts I have compared the Lions to a retard and the worst kind of drunk. I don't know what else to say. I mean, that shit speaks pretty clearly for itself. I just want to go back to the days when the Lions would get a few drinks in them but could still control themselves. They were fun to hang out with back then. Sure, by the end of the night they would usually do or say something stupid but it was easy to laugh it off because fuck it, we've all been there. But now, shit's just out of hand. My loveable old friend is now just a drunken retard.