The Train Daddy is back and it’s sexy time in the ’Boro, without a doubt my favorite time of the year: fall. As we head into October and bask in the glory of the fall season, the leaves transform from dull green to a rich, beautiful color. The death of Tennessee’s humidity is a cool welcome also. But, Sir Train Daddy, is that why you love the fall season so much—the leaves and the temperature? Of course not! It’s all about football, baby and grilling meats, enjoying friends and family and watching so much football your eyes explode.
Admittedly, it is a tough time to be a fan of Tennessee football, with some very tough losses in the state. After watching the Volunteers blow a huge lead to Oklahoma at home and then give away a victory to Florida in the swamp, I really felt for all the Big Orange faithful. It’s obvious to me the Vols are more talented than they have been in over a decade, but these fourth-quarter meltdowns have to be blamed on the head coach. Off with his head!
What about all you passionately loyal Titans fans? It’s been ugly for you, also. As happy as I am with Marcus Mariota and the obvious talent he possesses, the team is like Jekyll and Hyde, good then bad, pretty then ugly, winners then losers. In a Week 3 loss to the Colts I knew the Titans were doomed as soon as the commentator stated the fact the Titans had the same 27–14 lead in the fourth quarter that the Vols blew the day prior. Once that comment was made, I knew, and it was so, the Titans would blow the lead and Luck would be with the Colts. So to all you Tennessee fans out there, the Train included, don’t cry in public, and hold your head high. Big Orange faithful, Code Blue Titan fans, it’s a rough time to be a fan of Tennessee football right now, but true and faithful fans always know the future is brighter! If anyone says otherwise go ahead and punch them right in the face, with no warning; just as William Wallace shouted FREEDOM! we shall scream TENNESSEE! and destroy all who stand in our way.
An NFL season is 16 games long, so I have come up with a format for evaluating NFL teams called the Train Daddy Mafia Evaluation Breakdown. This is a very complicated and detailed system. I break down teams every quarter of the season. Four games equals a quarter of a season, so if a team goes 4–0 in that stretch they are uptown funkin’ everyone up! If a team goes 3–1 they’re bringing sexy back, and if they go 2–2 it’s all good in the hood. It’s when your team goes 1–3 that you blame the coach, and off with his head! So what about 0–4? Well, it means the football gods despise you, they are mad at the fan base or they despise the head coach. Don’t ever insult the football gods, and remember that! I’m serious, anyone who has read my past articles over 7 years of writing for the Pulse, well, you know about Lady Football and the football gods, they must be appeased. Don’t mess with these supernatural forces.
I try to avoid doing articles discussing fantasy football. It’s just too difficult to take fantasy football and put it into words that entertain you, the reader. Now, I love fantasy—I am entering my 11th season playing the game. It’s a game where we take athletes and they become no more than numbers and stats, not human beings. If they break bones or have concussions, we don’t have sympathy. It’s all about stats and your personal team staying healthy as a unit. If Adrian Peterson beats his son with a stick, we don’t care—the average fantasy player is more upset that he was suspended. If Ray Rice beats his wife in an elevator or Michael Vick runs an underground dogfight club, we don’t care. Just please don’t suspended my fantasy players! Most of us understand the seriousness of child abuse, domestic abuse and dog abuse, but fantasy football is a disease rapidly spreading across America. The ultimate goal is winning, and off-field issues that players have shall not affect my team! So those of you who don’t understand the passion of people who play fantasy football, you never will . . . unless you play. It’s a game that, in the last 20 years, has gone from pencil and paper to a mobile-device craze that has taken over America.
So, let’s wrap this thing up with my first comments on Tom Brady and the controversy that was Deflategate. I have never given my input on this matter, but now that the season has started and the Patriots are dominating yet again, I will speak up. First off the Patriots cheated, and they got away with it. It’s a fact the balls were deflated and they were caught, who knows how long they were doing it. Some say “who cares,” but I say it’s about integrity. Let’s not forget about Spygate also—they only got caught spying on other teams and attempting to steal their secret signals. It’s disgusting that Brady can be properly disciplined and then a judge overturns it. What is the point of the commissioner? As much as I dislike the way the NFL commissioner has handled many situations, he did what he had to in this case. It shows that in this day and age in sports, money and power and the right connections will be your savior, with no repercussions. Brady destroys his phone right before his meeting with the bigwigs and that’s that. Blame the ball boy, blame the team halfwit who hands out the water bottles, but never blame the star player Brady or the outspoken owner Robert Kraft, they can do no wrong!
That’s it, ladies and gentlemen. I truly hope you all enjoy the rest of the football season. The Vols are much improved. I just hope they can give this loyal fan base some victories to be proud of and some young players to pin their hopes on towards the future. When it comes to the Titans’ loyal fan base, look to Mariota, he is the real deal. He is young, he is the future and as he ages and progresses so does the team. It may be rough for a season or two but it will come together. Fantasy players, look to the waiver wires and enjoy the beauty of the game; sit back and watch as many games as you can. The cheaters and Robert Kraft are dominating football again. The rest of the league may have to find simple ways to cheat to keep up with Brady’s many touchdown passes. The Train’s out the station. Choo-choo!