Chiefs The Return - Page 4

Hammock Parties · 04:34 PM

THE RETURN

Chapter One - A Matterfly flaps it's wings in Minnesota.

It was a cool, calm October day the day Matt Cassel returned to an NFL starting lineup. The Vikings, trailing by three touchdowns against the Cleveland Browns that Sunday, had replaced Christian Ponder with Cassel midway through the third quarter. Four touchdowns and a thrilling come-from-behind victory later, Minnesota had their new quarterback, and Cassel had his confidence back.

I saw it watching via my DirecTV subscription, an unsmiling onlooker, knowing what was likely to come. In the moments after the game-winning touchdown pass, after the jubilant throngs of Vikings had died down and the hands had ceased slapping his butt, Cassel sat on the bench, talking into a cell phone.

A very expensive cell phone, with an unlimited data plan and no charges for roaming or overages. The kind of service only bought by a $60 million contract. Ugh.

I knew who Cassel was talking to. Deep down, I knew, at my core. The battle was coming, and there was no avoiding it now.

Flipping off the TV, I grimaced. The hours were dwindling, and I had to prepare. The past would not save me.

To be continued...

Chapter Two - The Devil's sleep.

Chapter Three - Into the belly of the least.

Chapter Four - Put on your Warpaint.

Chapter Five - Process this.

Chapter Six - *****'s Sticky End

Chapter Seven - The Magnificent Seven - SPELLBINDING EPIC CONCLUSION TO EPIC CHIEFS CYBERPUNK TALE OF FLIGHTY CHIEFS HEROISM.

T-post Tom · 06-08-2013, 01:24 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Branden Albert's Huge Balls

WE'RE ALL ABOUT TO OD IN CHAPTER 7

Unless your name is Matty Cassel or C. Wendler.

milkman · 06-08-2013, 04:32 PM

Clark Hunt and Andy Reid.

Hammock Parties · 06-08-2013, 04:33 PM

THE RETURN

Chapter Seven - The Magnificent Seven

"It will destroy everyone and everything in Kansas City if it detonates."

I can hear the droning whine of the B.E.L.C.H.E.R missile as it's core overload builds toward meltdown and explosion. It's louder than a freight train. Louder than a jet engine. Louder than...80,000 Chiefs fans screaming in your ear on third down.

And they will all be silenced, forever, if B.E.L.C.H.E.R goes off.

"Seven minutes to detonation, sir."

I stare into the beating midday sun. The SOC Fleet is long gone, and they couldn't carry *****'s mech far away enough to prevent catastrophic fallout anyway. Hellustrated could do the job, but it barely has enough power to run C.A.R.L after getting the hell beaten out of it.

Oh well. At least Jackson County Taxpayers will be off the hook for all of this.

Through the reverberating shrill of B.E.L.C.H.E.R, an engine roars. A large purple bus has entered the Arrowhead parking lot. It rumbles up, screeches to a halt. A shadowy figure, about 6-foot-4 and 230 pounds, exits and walks up.

Matthew Gus Brennan Cassel. Here, at the end of all things.

"I was told to meet my Lord and Master, Scott ***** here. What's that noise? Are those giant war robots? What's going on? Who are you?"

My hands clench in fists of rage. My jaw sets to one side as my teeth grind in anger.

"My name isn't important, Matt. What is important is that we are all going to die in seven -

"Six minutes, sir."

-In six minutes if that whiny bomb over there goes off."

Cassel stares at me like I'm 250 pounds and just blitzed him straight up the middle on third and seven. Like a cow, gazing mindlessly at an oncoming freight train. Moo, mother****er.

"Any last words, Matt?"

Another vacant stare.

"...I know...."

"You know? What? What the ****? Do you have any idea how many people are going to die in six minutes because of you? Why'd you have to go beat the Browns like that, huh? Can't you just stay down for once, bitch?"

"No...I've always known...this is how...it ends. Here. You. Him..."

"Scott *****?"

"Yes...and....them...."

I'm puzzled.

"Them?"

"I've seen them. In my dream. I'm the first. There are six others and...we stop the bomb. We right all the wrongs. We make everything good again. We save this place. We save the Chiefs."

What the **** is this idiot even talking about? I should just beat the crap out of him for a few minutes until everything blows up.

"I know what I have to do, you strange yet handsome and clearly intelligent person. Excuse me."

Cassel sits down, indian-style, closes his eyes, extends his palms outward, touches index fingers to thumb. He's entering...some kind of trance. Evidently he's been smoking a lot of peyote with a lost Indian tribe from Minnesota.

"OMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM--"

Yep. This will stop us all from dying. Great job, Matt. You imbecile.

"OMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM---"

What the ****. Seriously. Ugh. What a ****ing way to die. Surrounded by candied *****, baked Cassel and a talking computer.

"Five minutes, sir."

"OMMMMMMMMMMAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!"

A blinding flash of light knocks me to my feet. I can't hear the whine from B.E.L.C.H.E.R anymore. Cassel's rhythmic hum is the only audible sound. He is bathed in a heavenly glow. Another flash.

Damon Huard materializes out of thin air. He looks at me. At Cassel.

"Yes...yes. This is how it ends. We save you. It is meant to be. I will summon the next one."

Huard sits down. Closes his eyes.

"OMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM"

What the ****. Is this heaven? Or hell? Or -

"OMMMMMMMMMMAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!"

Elvis Grbac materializes out of thin air. He joins the group. The ritual repeats itself. More flashes. More shitty quarterbacks. Light, flowing like water, flooding everything, drowning me with a strange, ambient joy. I begin to giggle. It's lovely to be insane at the end of your life.

One by one, they begin to form a circle. Cassel. Huard. Grbac. Bono. Krieg. DeBerg.

The chant stops. Cassel looks up.

"Where is the seventh?"

Shrug.

"We must have the seventh. He, too, came here for a reason. His task has not yet begun...and yet his destiny is already complete. Where is the seventh?"

Blink.

The group nods, smiles and closes their eyes once again.

"OMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHA!"

Alex Smith appears in the center of the circle, dazed, but coherent. He speaks.

"I've....seen this."

Six voices.

"Wwee kknnooww, AAlleexx. Jjooiinn uuss nnooww. Iitt iiss ttiimmee."

Alex looks at me. I shrug. Pantomime smoking a blunt. Beats me, dude. Go join the shithead parade.

Matt Cassel, Damon Huard, Elvis Grbac, Steve Bono, Dave Krieg, Steve Deberg and Alex Smith join hands. They are robed in ethereal white. Their hair flutters in the breeze.

"We are the seven. We could not save you in life. We will save you in death. We go now. Omaha be with you."

A flash. They disappear. The whine. B.E.L.C.H.E.R. Minutes to live.

"One minute, sir."

One minute to live. My ears feel like they're about to burst.

In the distance, a bright light illuminates Patriot Way Shitkicker. Seven figures surround it. They raise their arms in unison.

SHAKA-THOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM

This is it. I'm going to die in about three seconds. The Truman Sports Complex is bathed in a nuclear, radiant glow. Everything is white. I raise one useless arm to shield my eyes. Fall to my feet.

The whine stops.

The light dissipates.

I'm still alive. Pick myself up, dust off, stare into the setting sun.

***** is gone. Shitkicker has evaporated. Hellustrated stands tall beside me. The Truman Sports Complex has been restored. I smell barbecue.

"C.A.R.L, what the **** just happened. Is this real? Are we dead?"

"Quite, real sir. We are alive. Amazingly, we've just witnessed a Poly-Universal Quantum Phase Shift within the Zeta-Omega-Xlibutscrale spectrum, I believe. At least if these readings are correct."

"Poly wanna cracker what? In English, please."

"I believe...sir...those beings phased out of our existence into another dimension and took *****, his mech and B.E.L.C.H.E.R with them. We're safe, sir."

"Wait wait wait...you're telling me Scott ***** and every shitty quarterback that has ever ****ed up something good for this franchise...is gone from this universe forever?"

"It would appear so, sir. You did it. Congratulations! I'll phone Mrs. Underwood immediately for your usual carnal celebrations."

"Don't thank me, C.A.R.L. Thank Matt Cassel. He...he saved us all. Finally."

"It would appear so, sir. Perhaps he was worth $63 million dollars after all?"

"I've honestly had enough of your bullshit for one day, C.A.R.L. Shut the **** up and sit the **** down."

EPILOGUE - FIVE MINUTES LATER

An engine rumbles in the distance as a golf cart from the Chiefs practice facility speeds my way. Two figures, one in black, another in red, ride beside each other. The cart stops.

A portly man gets out. He looks rushed, panicky. Sweat beads his brow as he waddles hurriedly towards me.

"Alex Smith? Have you seen Alex Smith anywhere? We were hiding from the horrible giant ****ing robot attack together and he just vanished! "

I smile, knowingly.

"Yes, Coach Reid. I saw Alex Smith."

Reid's mustache twirls in excitement.

"Well?"

"He saved us, Andy. He saved us all."

"Is he...coming back?"

"No, Andy. I'm sorry. It's...for the best."

Saddened, Reid casts his eyes toward the pavement and turns his back. A heavy sigh. Then he smiles, glances back, nods, and walks back to the golf cart. Reid turns the key in the ignition, and looks at his passenger.

"John, Alex isn't coming back. It's time."

"You can't be serious, Andy."

"I'm deadly serious. We go with Plan B or...play Chase Daniel."

"****. You're right."

"Tell Clark. Operation: Escape From New York is greenlighted."

John Dorsey shakes his head. Furrows his brow.

"I guess so. But...who's gonna bust Geno out?"

Reid smiles.

"I think I know just the guy."

FIN

THE HEROES OF SAVE OUR CHIEFS WILL...RETURN

Sweet Daddy Hate · 06-08-2013, 04:42 PM

**** YES! That was teh awesome.

Hammock Parties · 06-09-2013, 05:17 PM

YOU GUYS GOTTA READ THIS

IT'S FREE TOO!

ACT NOW BEFORE BANTAM HOUSE OR DEL REY PICK THIS UP!

AussieChiefsFan · 06-09-2013, 06:38 PM

I don't know where to post this, but this is hilarious.

Matt Cassel over Aaron Rodgers? Yes, a 2009 poll says

By DanHanzus

Published: June 09,2013at 12:04PM PDT

Here's something to give you a chuckle on a quiet Sunday.

The Big Lead (via IGN.com ) has unearthed a 2009 ESPN poll which asked readers "Which young quarterback would you most want leading your offense in the future?"

The list included Jay Cutler , Matt Cassel , Philip Rivers , Aaron Rodgers and Matt Ryan . Coming off a strong rookie season with the Atlanta Falcons , Ryan scored 49 percent of the vote. Rivers came in second (17 percent), followed by Cutler (15 percent) and Cassel (11 percent).

That left Aaron Rodgers bringing up the back end at a measly 8 percent. Yes, Aaron Rodgers , the greatest quarterback on planet Earth, was deemed to have the dimmest future on a list that included Matt Cassel .

What does this tell us? Rodgers' disrespect went beyond draft day and Brett Favre barbecues. Also, people of Kansas (the only state to vote Cassel No. 1) must have a lot of No. 7 Chiefs jerseys crumpled up in the back of the closet.

Sweet Daddy Hate · 06-09-2013, 07:08 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by AussieChiefsFan

Also, people of Kansas (the only state to vote Cassel No. 1) must have a lot of No. 7 Chiefs jerseys crumpled up in the back of the closet.

I KNEW they were all Jayhawks.

InChiefsHeaven · 06-09-2013, 10:11 PM

Seriously...name me another fan base like this...we are THE SHIT...nobody does this like we do. Clay, **** what they all say, even when you piss me off, I recognize your Chief-ness...good job laddy. Goddam, I love the Planet!!

Simply Red · 06-09-2013, 10:21 PM

Go Chiefs is Patrick Bateman levels of pissed off that this thread hasn't even achieved 100 posts.

Sweet Daddy Hate · 06-09-2013, 10:22 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Simply Red

Go Chiefs is Patrick Bateman levels of pissed off that this thread hasn't even achieved 100 posts.

Perhaps new skin cream would make him happy?

Sweet Daddy Hate · 06-09-2013, 10:23 PM

Valiant efforts on the part of Clay and PGM, but the Planet is just ****ing DEAD these days. This is what drafting 1st round fatties gets you for an offseason.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.....

Hammock Parties · 06-09-2013, 10:58 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Simply Red

Go Chiefs is Patrick Bateman levels of pissed off that this thread hasn't even achieved 100 posts.

IT'S THE GREATEST STORY EVER TOLD

Simply Red · 06-09-2013, 11:01 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Branden Albert's Huge Balls

IT'S THE GREATEST STORY EVER TOLD

I LOVE IT!

AussieChiefsFan · 06-10-2013, 02:15 AM

CleveSteve · 06-10-2013, 07:24 AM

Quote:

A single SNICKERS bar wrapper lands on my instrument cluster. Fresh, sticky and beautiful.

Great, googly moogly.

Standing ovation!

06-02-2013, 02:53 AM
Hammock Parties I'll be back. Join Date: Nov 2002 Casino cash: $1030478	The Return THE RETURN Chapter One - A Matterfly flaps it's wings in Minnesota. It was a cool, calm October day the day Matt Cassel returned to an NFL starting lineup. The Vikings, trailing by three touchdowns against the Cleveland Browns that Sunday, had replaced Christian Ponder with Cassel midway through the third quarter. Four touchdowns and a thrilling come-from-behind victory later, Minnesota had their new quarterback, and Cassel had his confidence back. I saw it watching via my DirecTV subscription, an unsmiling onlooker, knowing what was likely to come. In the moments after the game-winning touchdown pass, after the jubilant throngs of Vikings had died down and the hands had ceased slapping his butt, Cassel sat on the bench, talking into a cell phone. A very expensive cell phone, with an unlimited data plan and no charges for roaming or overages. The kind of service only bought by a $60 million contract. Ugh. I knew who Cassel was talking to. Deep down, I knew, at my core. The battle was coming, and there was no avoiding it now. Flipping off the TV, I grimaced. The hours were dwindling, and I had to prepare. The past would not save me. To be continued... Chapter Two - The Devil's sleep. Chapter Three - Into the belly of the least. Chapter Four - Put on your Warpaint. Chapter Five - Process this. Chapter Six - *'s Sticky End Chapter Seven - The Magnificent Seven - SPELLBINDING EPIC CONCLUSION TO EPIC CHIEFS CYBERPUNK TALE OF FLIGHTY CHIEFS HEROISM. Last edited by Hammock Parties; 06-08-2013 at 04:34 PM..
Posts: 296,724

06-08-2013, 04:32 PM	#47
milkman Dumbass! Join Date: Aug 2000 Location: Leading the Marty bashing Casino cash: $10029395	Clark Hunt and Andy Reid. __________________
Posts: 70,769

06-08-2013, 04:33 PM	#48
Hammock Parties I'll be back. Join Date: Nov 2002 Casino cash: $1030478	THE RETURN Chapter Seven - The Magnificent Seven "It will destroy everyone and everything in Kansas City if it detonates." I can hear the droning whine of the B.E.L.C.H.E.R missile as it's core overload builds toward meltdown and explosion. It's louder than a freight train. Louder than a jet engine. Louder than...80,000 Chiefs fans screaming in your ear on third down. And they will all be silenced, forever, if B.E.L.C.H.E.R goes off. "Seven minutes to detonation, sir." I stare into the beating midday sun. The SOC Fleet is long gone, and they couldn't carry ****'s mech far away enough to prevent catastrophic fallout anyway. Hellustrated* could do the job, but it barely has enough power to run C.A.R.L after getting the hell beaten out of it. Oh well. At least Jackson County Taxpayers will be off the hook for all of this. Through the reverberating shrill of B.E.L.C.H.E.R, an engine roars. A large purple bus has entered the Arrowhead parking lot. It rumbles up, screeches to a halt. A shadowy figure, about 6-foot-4 and 230 pounds, exits and walks up. Matthew Gus Brennan Cassel. Here, at the end of all things. "I was told to meet my Lord and Master, Scott *** here. What's that noise? Are those giant war robots? What's going on? Who are you?" My hands clench in fists of rage. My jaw sets to one side as my teeth grind in anger. "My name isn't important, Matt. What is important is that we are all going to die in seven - "Six minutes, sir." -In six minutes if that whiny bomb over there goes off." Cassel stares at me like I'm 250 pounds and just blitzed him straight up the middle on third and seven. Like a cow, gazing mindlessly at an oncoming freight train. Moo, motherer. "Any last words, Matt?" Another vacant stare. "...I know...." "You know? What? What the ? Do you have any idea how many people are going to die in six minutes because of you? Why'd you have to go beat the Browns like that, huh? Can't you just stay down for once, bitch?" "No...I've always known...this is how...it ends. Here. You. Him..." "Scott *?" "Yes...and....them...." I'm puzzled. "Them?" "I've seen them. In my dream. I'm the first. There are six others and...we stop the bomb. We right all the wrongs. We make everything good again. We save this place. We save the Chiefs." What the is this idiot even talking about? I should just beat the crap out of him for a few minutes until everything blows up. "I know what I have to do, you strange yet handsome and clearly intelligent person. Excuse me." Cassel sits down, indian-style, closes his eyes, extends his palms outward, touches index fingers to thumb. He's entering...some kind of trance. Evidently he's been smoking a lot of peyote with a lost Indian tribe from Minnesota. "OMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM--" Yep. This will stop us all from dying. Great job, Matt. You imbecile. "OMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM---" What the . Seriously. Ugh. What a ing way to die. Surrounded by candied *, baked Cassel and a talking computer. "Five minutes, sir." "OMMMMMMMMMMAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!" A blinding flash of light knocks me to my feet. I can't hear the whine from B.E.L.C.H.E.R anymore. Cassel's rhythmic hum is the only audible sound. He is bathed in a heavenly glow. Another flash. Damon Huard materializes out of thin air. He looks at me. At Cassel. "Yes...yes. This is how it ends. We save you. It is meant to be. I will summon the next one." Huard sits down. Closes his eyes. "OMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM" What the *. Is this heaven? Or hell? Or - "OMMMMMMMMMMAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!" Elvis Grbac materializes out of thin air. He joins the group. The ritual repeats itself. More flashes. More shitty quarterbacks. Light, flowing like water, flooding everything, drowning me with a strange, ambient joy. I begin to giggle. It's lovely to be insane at the end of your life. One by one, they begin to form a circle. Cassel. Huard. Grbac. Bono. Krieg. DeBerg. The chant stops. Cassel looks up. "Where is the seventh?" Shrug. "We must have the seventh. He, too, came here for a reason. His task has not yet begun...and yet his destiny is already complete. Where is the seventh?" Blink. The group nods, smiles and closes their eyes once again. "OMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHAOMAHA!" Alex Smith appears in the center of the circle, dazed, but coherent. He speaks. "I've....seen this." Six voices. "Wwee kknnooww, AAlleexx. Jjooiinn uuss nnooww. Iitt iiss ttiimmee." Alex looks at me. I shrug. Pantomime smoking a blunt. Beats me, dude. Go join the shithead parade. Matt Cassel, Damon Huard, Elvis Grbac, Steve Bono, Dave Krieg, Steve Deberg and Alex Smith join hands. They are robed in ethereal white. Their hair flutters in the breeze. "We are the seven. We could not save you in life. We will save you in death. We go now. Omaha be with you." A flash. They disappear. The whine. B.E.L.C.H.E.R. Minutes to live. "One minute, sir." One minute to live. My ears feel like they're about to burst. In the distance, a bright light illuminates Patriot Way Shitkicker. Seven figures surround it. They raise their arms in unison. SHAKA-THOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM* This is it. I'm going to die in about three seconds. The Truman Sports Complex is bathed in a nuclear, radiant glow. Everything is white. I raise one useless arm to shield my eyes. Fall to my feet. The whine stops. The light dissipates. I'm still alive. Pick myself up, dust off, stare into the setting sun. ***** is gone. Shitkicker has evaporated. Hellustrated stands tall beside me. The Truman Sports Complex has been restored. I smell barbecue. "C.A.R.L, what the ** just happened. Is this real? Are we dead?" "Quite, real sir. We are alive. Amazingly, we've just witnessed a Poly-Universal Quantum Phase Shift within the Zeta-Omega-Xlibutscrale spectrum, I believe. At least if these readings are correct." "Poly wanna cracker what? In English, please." "I believe...sir...those beings phased out of our existence into another dimension and took *, his mech and B.E.L.C.H.E.R with them. We're safe, sir." "Wait wait wait...you're telling me Scott * and every shitty quarterback that has ever ed up something good for this franchise...is gone from this universe forever?" "It would appear so, sir. You did it. Congratulations! I'll phone Mrs. Underwood immediately for your usual carnal celebrations." "Don't thank me, C.A.R.L. Thank Matt Cassel. He...he saved us all. Finally." "It would appear so, sir. Perhaps he was worth $63 million dollars after all?" "I've honestly had enough of your bullshit for one day, C.A.R.L. Shut the up and sit the ** down." EPILOGUE - FIVE MINUTES LATER An engine rumbles in the distance as a golf cart from the Chiefs practice facility speeds my way. Two figures, one in black, another in red, ride beside each other. The cart stops. A portly man gets out. He looks rushed, panicky. Sweat beads his brow as he waddles hurriedly towards me. "Alex Smith? Have you seen Alex Smith anywhere? We were hiding from the horrible giant **ing robot attack together and he just vanished! " I smile, knowingly. "Yes, Coach Reid. I saw Alex Smith." Reid's mustache twirls in excitement. "Well?" "He saved us, Andy. He saved us all." "Is he...coming back?" "No, Andy. I'm sorry. It's...for the best." Saddened, Reid casts his eyes toward the pavement and turns his back. A heavy sigh. Then he smiles, glances back, nods, and walks back to the golf cart. Reid turns the key in the ignition, and looks at his passenger. "John, Alex isn't coming back. It's time." "You can't be serious, Andy." "I'm deadly serious. We go with Plan B or...play Chase Daniel." "*. You're right." "Tell Clark. Operation: Escape From New York* is greenlighted." John Dorsey shakes his head. Furrows his brow. "I guess so. But...who's gonna bust Geno out?" Reid smiles. "I think I know just the guy." FIN THE HEROES OF SAVE OUR CHIEFS WILL...RETURN __________________ Chiefs game films
Posts: 296,724

06-08-2013, 04:42 PM	#49
Sweet Daddy Hate Unsparing Join Date: Aug 2008 Casino cash: $10004900	** YES! That was teh awesome. __________________ 1. Merciless, severe. 2. Given freely and generously. 100% refusal to overrate 20 year Head Coaches with ZERO ing rings as a Head Coach. CP's Official Professor of 'Dem Blues for 2019/2020!**
Posts: 77,135

06-09-2013, 05:17 PM	#50
Hammock Parties I'll be back. Join Date: Nov 2002 Casino cash: $1030478	YOU GUYS GOTTA READ THIS IT'S FREE TOO! ACT NOW BEFORE BANTAM HOUSE OR DEL REY PICK THIS UP! __________________ Chiefs game films
Posts: 296,724

06-09-2013, 06:38 PM	#51
AussieChiefsFan MVP Join Date: Mar 2012 Location: Sydney, Australia Casino cash: $5688501	I don't know where to post this, but this is hilarious. Matt Cassel over Aaron Rodgers? Yes, a 2009 poll says By DanHanzus Published: June 09,2013at 12:04PM PDT Here's something to give you a chuckle on a quiet Sunday. The Big Lead (via IGN.com ) has unearthed a 2009 ESPN poll which asked readers "Which young quarterback would you most want leading your offense in the future?" The list included Jay Cutler , Matt Cassel , Philip Rivers , Aaron Rodgers and Matt Ryan . Coming off a strong rookie season with the Atlanta Falcons , Ryan scored 49 percent of the vote. Rivers came in second (17 percent), followed by Cutler (15 percent) and Cassel (11 percent). That left Aaron Rodgers bringing up the back end at a measly 8 percent. Yes, Aaron Rodgers , the greatest quarterback on planet Earth, was deemed to have the dimmest future on a list that included Matt Cassel . What does this tell us? Rodgers' disrespect went beyond draft day and Brett Favre barbecues. Also, people of Kansas (the only state to vote Cassel No. 1) must have a lot of No. 7 Chiefs jerseys crumpled up in the back of the closet.
Posts: 13,760

06-09-2013, 10:11 PM	#53
InChiefsHeaven Rockin' yer FACE OFF! Join Date: Feb 2003 Location: Omaha, Nebraska Casino cash: $775437	Seriously...name me another fan base like this...we are THE SHIT...nobody does this like we do. Clay, **** what they all say, even when you piss me off, I recognize your Chief-ness...good job laddy. Goddam, I love the Planet!! __________________ We have a million reasons for failure, but not one excuse... Die Donks, DIE!! Holy Crap fellas!!! We did it!!! THREE TIMES!!!
Posts: 27,177

06-09-2013, 10:21 PM	#54
Simply Red You Sweetie! Join Date: Sep 2005 Casino cash: $2021206219 VARSITY	Go Chiefs is Patrick Bateman levels of pissed off that this thread hasn't even achieved 100 posts.
Posts: 71,691

06-09-2013, 10:23 PM	#56
Sweet Daddy Hate Unsparing Join Date: Aug 2008 Casino cash: $10004900	Valiant efforts on the part of Clay and PGM, but the Planet is just **ing DEAD these days. This is what drafting 1st round fatties gets you for an offseason. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..... __________________ 1. Merciless, severe. 2. Given freely and generously. 100% refusal to overrate 20 year Head Coaches with ZERO ing rings as a Head Coach. CP's Official Professor of 'Dem Blues for 2019/2020!**
Posts: 77,135

06-10-2013, 02:15 AM	#59
AussieChiefsFan MVP Join Date: Mar 2012 Location: Sydney, Australia Casino cash: $5688501
Posts: 13,760