King Coughlin

Many critics have questioned Tom Coughlin throughout his tenure as coach of the New York Giants. They questioned his disciplinarian style, his drill instructor-like methods, and just his football acumen in general. Well, one Super Bowl title later, and the critics shut up. Many of those same critics reappeared when Coughlin suspended Plaxico Burress for insubordination, as Burress is the Giants’ number one receiving threat. The G-Men then promptly went out and crushed the Seattle Seahawks, 44-6, without Burress. Coughlin dropped me a line and asked to write a guest blog, and since the Coach has always been so humble about his success, I didn’t hesitate to let him chime in on the win:

by Tom Coughlin

Kneel before me, my royal subjects! It is I, the grandest coach in all the land, Coughlin Rex! I come here before you today to assure you that nothing will stop my reign of destruction over the rest of this league.

Hear ye! Hear ye! Anyone who missed that butt-raping of Seattle last week must now know that this team is positively grandiose in its domination. To blow out another team in today’s NFL is extremely difficult. It is almost unfathomable to do so without one’s top receiver. Therefore, us big-boying the Seahawks without Plax can only point to the presence of a regal and divine entity on the sideline.

Not only am I the master of play calling and clock management, but I also consider myself on par with a deity. I am not just coaching here, I am doing God’s will. Some of the fans may not understand that when they boo, but they must know that every decision I make is blessed. Some of the fanbase found my request to wear regal attire to be disturbing. I say it is only fitting. I coach as if I was royalty, so let me dress as such! Does anyone know where I can buy a scepter? And how about a robe and a crown? I don’t know any of that costume shop type stuff, either. I want a real king’s outfit. I want a large ring with a ruby in the middle of it to adorn my left pinkie.

Because of my genius, I now find play-calling to be rather tedious. I would much rather spend my time hunting pheasant, or being fed grapes by my loyal harem of prostitutes. They were included in my last deal. After every victory, rather than the typical Gatorade bath, I want Antonio Pierce to douse me with goblets of wine. Three ought to do the trick. Also, I would like a band of merry minstrels to entertain me while I sit atop my throne during the game. I will eat large hunks of meat directly off the bone and drink gallons of wine from my golden chalice, all while Eli and Company fuck shit up on the field.

It is true that I my Super Bowl win garnered me the respect of the media, as well as a contract extension. I say that is not enough. I want a gold statue erected in my likeness. A statue of me, with my fly open, and water coming out of the spot where my rod would be. And that water would land directly on a bronze bust of Bill Belicheck’s face. I can’t wait for the day it is unveiled. Oh, how glorious it will be, as trumpets blare, and confetti flies every which way, and Barry Cofield and Jay Alford carry me on a throne made from the bones of the Patriots offensive line. The team’s 2008 anthem, Billy Ocean’s 1984 hit Caribbean Queen, will waft softly through the air all the while.

As newly proclaimed king of the Giants, I would like to know why we haven’t taken the best players from the Jets. After all, we allow them to use our stadium. They’re not going anywhere with that team, but we could use Leon Washington. He’s pretty fast. Jerricho Cotchery is a capable receiver. He’s no Mario Manningham, Amani Toomer, Sinorice Moss, or Steve Smith, but still. And Brett Favre could hold on field goals. If any Jets fans doth protest, I say off with their heads! And I mean that quite literally. We are the champs, and we do anything we want, including murder.

As for our divisional opponents, I grant them much respect. The Dallas Cowboys have a great legacy of winning, and a truly clutch quarterback in Tony Romo. The middle of their field features a beautiful blue star. It is so big, blue, and beauteous, that I think next time we go up there I will defecate on it. Those Texas shitheads should get a kick out of that one. The Washington Redskins are also playing well. They have managed to off our rivals the Cowboys and Eagles in consecutive weeks! I was going to say how impressive that was until I realized that we beat the Eagles twice last season, and we went into the Cowboys’ house in the playoffs and whupped them good. But good for them! Washington is nice in the summer months. I may make Fedex Field my vacation home next time we beat them mercilessly. Clinton Portis would make a fine third-down back for us.

Fuck the Eagles.

Finally, I’d like to say that even though I have adopted a royal attitude to my coaching duties, in no way have I changed the man I am. I got to be in this position through hard work, belief in God above, and strong moral values, and I intend to continue on that path. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go get double-teamed by two bitches from the Kanye West video.


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