Did Walter look at the examples mentioned regarding the falling prospects that the Pittsburgh Steelers usually draft? Other than falling in the draft, what else did they have in common? Including Decastro, who's finally caught on, all three have been very slooooooowwwww starters.. As a matter of fact if these guys were taken any higher there would've been questions about them being a Bust. Yes, they may have reached for Artie Burns, but they definiately had to change their ways of thinking.
JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 1: Emmitt Smith's Hall of Fame Induction Speech
I've received numerous e-mails recently from people asking me if I'm excited for Emmitt Smith's Hall of Fame induction speech. This may surprise you, but I'm not.
There's no way Emmitt's going up to the podium to read something he's written. First of all, he probably can't even write. And second, even if he knows how to write, there's no way he could piece together a grammatically correct sentence, as we've seen during his 2-year stint at ESPN. His agent and PR people won't let him embarrass "himselves" like he did on TV.
Instead, Emmitt's going to have someone write the speech for him. This is a great travesty, as it will deprive us from a great source of unintentional comedy.
To make up for this "debaclation," I've decided to project what would happen if Emmitt wrote the speech himself.
**Emmitt steps up to the podium.**
Ladies and gentleman, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for voting me into the Hall of Famers. This is like a dream come true to me, a dream that I dreamed every night since I announced my retirement from the National uhh... Conference League. If I have one word to describe this feeling right now, it would be like the crowning of a king, or the crowning of a cake, so to speak.
When I began my career in footballism when the Dallas Cowboys pick me from my fine collegiate career at the University of Florida State - go Gata - if you were... or was to ask myselves back then if I would become a Hall of Fame, I would have tolded you boy, the chances of that are slim to nonsense.
But nonsense become some cents and more cents when I climb up the rushing yard totem pole to catch James Brown and then Walter Payton. And I won three Super Bowl national championship with my friends Troy Aikman, Michael Irving and Mouse Johnson. At that point, it become so easy, it was like shootin' barrel in a fish. That is when dream become reality. Very reality.
A long, long time ago, from a time that have passed for a long time ago, I listen to the head coach of a unknown college football team, Jim Valentine. He say, "Don't quit. Don't ever quit." I took that quotation mark to heart, and I learn not to count a hatch before an egg. But then I found out I have enough vote to come inside the Hall of Fames, and so I now sit here in front of you gentlefolk and lady in the city of Camden, waitin to be enshrine of the silver monkey.
This is a proud day for me. This is a proud day for my families. This a proud day for folk who work on hills. And this is a proud day for everyone who have supported me through my trials and triviations. And most importedly, this is a proud day for the National Conference of Football Leagues, as the all-times leading rusher finally grant the rice of patches and introducted into the big hall. It was a long time comin, and it was a long time goin.
And now I'm gettin ready to put on that jacket. That jacket that have the same color as the condemen, uhh... not ketchups, but uhh... mustard. The same color as mustard, or as some folk like to refer it to, the yellow ketchup. I am proud to wear this jacket, and I will forever wear this jacket for the rest of my well being, or at least until it have to go in the laundry room!
Thank you, God bless, and remember, if you thinkin about partying like it's 2010 tonight and plannin on driving, do not do the two at the same times, or you will go to jail for drinkin and drunkin, and some big man there will rough you up the behind.
In all seriousness, congrats to the classy (and grammatically inept) Emmitt Smith for an incredible career.
JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 2: Brett Favre
Major news organizations everywhere had diarrhea in their pants last week when several reporters stated that Brett Favre announced his retirement. Of course, this story was retracted a few hours later, as it always is.
People were enraged about this. I received numerous e-mails and Facebook posts from angry football fans, including:
T.J. L. (via Facebook): Is Brett Favre going to be a jerk of the week? He definitely should be.
Casey M. (via Facebook): How many times have we gone through this Favre thing where he says he'll retire but then the next day he's back?
Judson D. (via Facebook): I think that Brett Favre has earned himself the title of Jerk of the Decade. What a freaking douche bag, everybody knows as soon as training camp is over he'll be like " My ankle just magically started feeling better sooo....I'm coming back." And I just HATE how everybody loves him for it and acts like it has nothing to do with training camp. "Oh he just can't let go of the game, he's all old and he gets excited over touchdowns. How sweet!" Brett Favre disgusts me, and not just because I'm a Packer fan. I don't see how he doesn't disgust every football fan.
Dave P. (via Facebook): Just got done reading Walt. Love the Fantasy Football stuff, and yes Favre is a douche.
Sebastian L: You never know with Brett Favre but just in case he's really retiring, he looks like an obvious nominee for Jerks of the Week to me.
Those were a few of the responses, and the overwhelming majority wanted me to make Favre a Jerk of the Week.
And so I shall. I'm making Brett Favre a Jerk of the Week.
On second thought, I don't think I'm going to do it.
Wait, what am I saying? I want to make Brett Favre a Jerk of the Week. Brett Favre will be a Jerk of the Week.
Meh, I'm not really so sure about that.
You know what? I'm 99.9-percent sure Brett Favre will be a Jerk of the Week.
Forget the 99.9. I can't envision not making Brett Favre a Jerk of the Week. If I ever thought about not making Brett Favre a Jerk of the Week, I'd probably stop writing for this site.
I don't know if it's going to be this week, next week, or two weeks from now, but Brett Favre will be a Jerk of the Week.
Brett Favre will NOT be a Jerk of the Week.
If I do make Brett Favre a Jerk of the Week this week, it may be my final Jerks of the Week entry ever. I'll miss writing Jerks of the Week.
Brett Favre will be a Jerk of the Week this week, but I might do one more entry next week.
Don't count on me writing any Jerks of the Week material on any other site. I only want to write my Jerks of the Week columns for this site.
It's been a great career for me as the owner of WalterFootball.com, but I think it's over. I don't have anything left to give.
If I do write for this site, it has to be a 100-percent commitment.
I think I'm going to write for this site for one more year.
Brett Favre will not be a Jerk of the Week this week, but I will continue to write for this site as long as I can.
Brett Favre will be a Jerk of the Week this week if Penn State wins the baseball championship. If they win the World Series, I will write for this site forever.
Believe me, it's definitely not about the money. As long as my wrists and fingers can hold up, Brett Favre will be a Jerk of the Week.
It's time to leave. I think it's time to hang it up.
I'm going to tell Peter King that Brett Favre will be a Jerk of the Week.
I just sent Peter King a text saying I don't know if Brett Favre will be a Jerk of the Week.
I will make Brett Favre a Jerk of the Week as long as I feel ready to write at a level that I expect of myself.
You know what? I don't know what the hell I'm going to do. To hell with all of my fans! If I make Brett Favre a Jerk of the Week, he'll be a Jerk of the Week. If not, then he won't be. Just stop asking me if he's going to be a Jerk of the Week! I can't handle the pressure anymore. Argh!!!!
JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 3: Shaving Cream Man
What would a Jerks of the Week entry be without making fun of people at my gym pool?
The pool predictably was crowded on Tuesday evening. Swim lessons took up two lanes; fat ladies patrolled Lane 3; Lane 4 was crowded with older men; and obnoxious teenagers splashed around in the other two lanes. The teenagers usually aren't there, but I'm willing to bet that they went swimming because of the new Asian lifeguard I mentioned before.
** Side note: Did I just write "obnoxious teenagers?" I just celebrated my 28th birthday, and this super hot girl who went to the bar with me said that I should ask the bartenders for a senior citizens discount. God, I feel old. **
At any rate, I got into the fourth lane. My awesome swimming skills scared the old men off, and I was happily swimming on my own - at least for a while anyway.
Around the half-mile mark of my workout, I was able to notice a body floating in my lane. I nearly hit it because I didn't see it until the last second. I put on the breaks, stood up and yelled, "What the hell?"
The guy floating in my lane, a weird Russian man in his 40s named Roman, noticed my yelling. He replied, "Sorry iz novere else to go, novere else to svim."
Svim? You're not "svimming," you're just floating around and blocking my path!
"I sorry, I sorry," he continued to apologize. He swam back to the wall, and I thought I was OK. Unfortunately, he was blocking my path once again four laps later. Instead of floating around, he swam around in these tiny circles. He could have just easily swum up and down the lane like a normal person, but oh no, he had to clog the lane once again by swimming in tiny little circles.
I swam the other way and came back, and he was still doing his tiny-circle routine. I stood once again and raised my arms in disgust. "I sorry, I sorry," he apologized, but continued to swim in tiny circles.
Eventually he left, but the pool closed before I was able to complete my usual mile. I guess the silver lining is that I didn't suffer another back injury getting out of the pool this time.
I was washing the toxic chlorine off my body in the shower - not naked, of course - when I noticed the tiny-circles swimmer running out of the bathroom with white stuff all over his face. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Actually, it was shaving cream; I often see this guy inexplicably shaving in the locker room. This time, for whatever reason, he decided to smear shaving cream all over his entire face.
"I can't see, I can't see vere I going! I can't see vere I going!" he yelled, running toward his locker.
You think? Next time don't cover your entire face with shaving cream, moron.