If you're New York Jets head coach Eric Mangini, and you're in the process of getting your ass beat on Sunday by the team you're hired to beat, whaddya do? Snitch on Bill Belichick, your old coach.
Let's put this on the table right now. Eric Mangini is a straight punk. Don't get me wrong, he's smart - but he's a straight punk. Now, why would I say this about a guy who's guested on the Sopranos? Cause the Sopranos ain't **** either, that's why.
See, I got beef with a dude who's so weak, such a little slimeball that he broke the oath that all the New England assistants to Belichick took; no taking head coach positions in the AFC East and I'll clue you in on everything I do.
The first thing Mangini does, knowing he betrayed Belichick, his maker, is wax eloquent about how he'll use his god's template with his god's blessing and imprint it on the ex-Shea Stadium boys in green and white. Hearing this allowed the tattooed love-boy metro-thugs to properly blunt the cries of treachery and slant the story of why Belichick was so frosty about the hire in the first place.
And people wonder why Belichick didn't want to look at Womangini when they met last season for the first time at midfield.
Fast-forward to last season. The Miami Dolphins upset New England, 21-0 in Week 14. Belichick accused the Dolphins of stealing their offensive signals. Zach Thomas all-but admitted it was true. Of course Nick Saban said it wasn't true, but even he was doing the hem-and-haw like he'd got caught with both hands in the cookie jar when asked about the allegations in a press conference.
The response to Belichick's charges were swift and harsh, especially those from the metro-thugs and their Big Box sports media buddies, the heads on sticks we all see at six and 11 p.m. They said Belichick was whining because his team got handled like Mandingo Club wives, that the luster had been wiped clean from his image as a class guy. They said it happens all the time in the NFL, so he should shut his trap and deal with the realities of pro football.
Fast-forward to now.
Punk boy Womangini's team is getting absolutely waxed by the Patriots, on the long road to a 38-14 drubbing. I watched the game - it wasn't even close. The Jets offense overall was ineffective, and the run game, in particular, was non-existent.
I swear one time I saw Tom Brady take the snap, take a seven-step drop, put the ball down, trot over to the sidelines and grab a cell phone from Tedy Bruschi, say hey to Giselle, trot back to where he left the ball and throw 50 yards down the field to Randy Moss, who looked like the Pied Piper leading kids to the slaughter as he was trailed by a Jets linebacker, a cornerback, and a safety as he caught a touchdown pass.
To say the Jets quit is kind. Late in the fourth quarter, several Jets offensive players were on the sidelines with towels over their heads -------- so they wouldn't lose any smoke from the "puff, puff, pass" party they were having on the bench.
Womangini knows he's going to get vilified, slammed - traduced - in the press come Monday. I can see him thinking on the sideline, repeating to no one, "WhatdoIdo whatdoIdo whatdoIdo?" The bulb went off, "Womangenius" style. Soon after, the alleged offender, Estrella, is accosted. Deflecting attention from a shellacking by snitching on his god is just incredibly, ingeniously, devious. If Karl Rove ever steps down from his position as master neocon muckraker, Eric Womangini should be the first name on the Rove replacement list.
This is the first real test for Roger Goodell as commissioner of the NFL. All his previous choices and punishments were easy. With this, he must balance the wants of his constituency, the owners, and their knowledge that the Belichick flap is nothing more than that, against the wailing of the metro-thug press members of New York City, the television talking heads on sticks, and the Internet blogger sloth. If he caves to the media's screams at the wailing wall of the NFL league office, Goodell will, from here on out, serve out a train wreck of a tenure as commissioner.
