Why I Can't Stop Writing About Sean Taylor

I was reminded by a very good friend today about this:

Come back Sean Taylor,
I won't survive another
Six and ten season.

In the earliest days of this publication, Sean Taylor was facing the gun charges that have been the media's starch in their coverage of his demise. My favorite version of the story is this:

Drug dealer stole Sean's ATVs. He went to the drug dealer's house and demanded the vehicles be returned. Dude pulls a piece out on my man, who takes it, sticks in dude's ass and threatens to pull the trigger 'til it goes click. ST pistol whips the dude and leaves the gun at the scene. His SUV is later riddled with bullets by unidentified assailants. He surrenders to the police the next day and immediately wins the media's " unquestionavble scariest black man on Earth"
crown. He later plead guilty to beating the dude up and went to kindergarten to teach inner city youth how to win fights.

Loved to tell that one. Until today I realized it was probably those dudes who killed him. I've decided that from this day forward to ask myself, before every decision I make, "What Would Sean Taylor Do? (WWSTD)"

And do the exact opposite. Most of the time. At least when I'm in the hood.

BTW - The Redskins went 10-6 the season after I wrote that.

Letter to Leonard Shapiro

Sent today at 15:54PM
mailto:badgerlen@hotmail.com


Mr. Shapiro -

I recently came across an article you wrote about the late Sean Taylor. You accused him of "disrespecting Hall of Fame coach Joe Gibbs by not showing up for mandatory offseason workouts and never calling to explain why..." in your piece. As a graduate of the University of Miami, Mr. Taylor attended offseason workouts in Miami along with a number of former UM players, including Ray Lewis and Jeremy Shockey. Coach Gibbs did state at the time that he wondered why Mr. Taylor hadn't contacted him, but later stated that he understood the reason and was OK with it.

Also, I find it interesting that, as a reader of The Washington Post both in print and online, I've never read an opinion column that you wrote before today. Highly dubious of you to call Michael Wilbon a "colleague" no?

Along with being a dubious contributor to the publication (you don't even have a Washington Post email address, evidently), your Post online pictures allows one to discern that you are also fat and bald, as well.

Regretfully,

Dr. Chewbakka
New York, NY

Goodbye Sean Taylor

I've led an extremely sheltered life concerning death. My mother's parents both died when I was too young think about anything beyond the loss of their physical presence. That's my experience with death.

Yet I just found myself wanting to write a letter to Sean Taylor, who died this morning after being shot in his home early Monday morning. I wanted to wish him safe travels to wherever he was bound. This is the first time I ever truly cared about the great beyond, and now I find myself questioning it seriously for the first time as well.

It's silly. I know. We never met. I don't think I ever saw him speak, to be honest. My admiration of him was almost solely limited to the devastation left in his wake in my favorite team's backfield. That and I believed he was unjustly accused of being a bad egg. Watch TV right now. CNN managed to fit in that he'd been fined by the league seven times for late hits. But maybe the bad egg personae is what led thugs with guns into his house. I don't know.

I watched every professional football game the man played. I watched his hit reels on YouTube in the offseason when I needed to feel the season wasn't that far away. And now, I can't believe I'm saying this, I can only hope that he is at peace.

Godspeed #21.

Sean Taylor Recovering, Expected to Miss At Least Two Weeks

The Washington Post reports tonight that "Taylor squeezed a doctor's hand and made facial expressions early in the evening, Redskins officials and a family friend said, providing some hope after he emerged from seven hours of surgery at Jackson Memorial Hospital".

Godspeed #21. Get well soon.

Christmas Wishlist Vol. 1

Merry reader(s),

Now that Thanksgiving has passed and we draw nearer to Christmas every hour, I am going to try and keep you up to date with what I want under my tree.

-Sean Taylor in full health. Not "playing shape" but full health. Godspeed.

-Any appendage from whomever it is that shot Taylor. What? Better that I get to them than he does. 

-A muzzled Sufjan Stevens. Shut. Up. 

Actually, I would like Sean to deliver the head of Sufjan to my home, finding out later that ST's father, the local police chief, cleared him of all the charges related to the removal of Mr. Stevens' dome, as he was the shooter all along.

Yule!!!!

Seriously, I really like Sean Taylor, and he's gotten a bad rap his whole career (even The Post is bringing up "past discipline problems" in their story) and I wish him a speedy recovery and a Merry Christmas. 

I Mean, Come ON

Who wouldn't rent this apartment?!?!?

http://newyork.craigslist.org/brk/abo/472835091.html

Seriously.

Fantasy Football

I play fantasy football.

Fantasy football is a tea party for football nerds like me. It works like this: A group of (sort of) grown men pretend that we own football teams in an imaginary league. Stats win games. Wins and losses are decided by individual players' stats. Stats only. We then discuss with each other and the owners of other fake teams in made-up leagues how our teams that aren't real are doing. We might as well sip fake beer out of empty mugs while watching a cardboard television in someone's treehouse (bar).

I'm going to the playoffs that are so bogus that they begin Week 14, in my league this year and will likely win the whole shebang if I'm not kicked out prior for "conduct detrimental to a bunch of tofu-raised rodeo clown fluffers (READ: the other 'owners')." SEE BELOW - I'm Billingsworth

I promise you this, fair reader(s) - Upon securing the not-real-at-all Championship this year I use my newfound nonexistent media exposure to help single mothers in Darfur learn how to read. Spanish.

I will also use the very real, cold, hard cash winnings from this year's league to buy pornography for all of the younger siblings of the other owners in my league.

Man, Oh Man
Don Billingsworth	Posted: Oct 29, 4:39 PM 1 Reply	Edit
Team Billingsworth	Except for my little run-ins with Dreamboat and Purple Jesus, Team Billingsworth rolls on. I'm reminded of a note I got from the ass-jamming hippie in Vermont advising me as to my "rookie move" of not starting a running back several weeks ago. Hey, Cherry Garcia - Did you see how I left a receiver slot open this week, guy? I know! Rookie bullshit! Did you also see I'm one shy of century mark ahead of you in total points AND just knocked you out of 2nd place? Have fun looking up my kilt for the rest of the season, Jefferson Airplane. When I win this thing, I really hope you get second so you can pay for that vaginoplasty. -Sean Taylor
Re: Man, Oh Man
David Goodlund	Posted: Oct 31, 4:42 PM
Vermont Funkin' N...	I really can't wait until next year when your not in our league. I wish Jason wouldn't have invited such an egocentric fucking asshole into the league I set up. Fuck you and your ego that must make up for the size of your cock. Post edited: Oct 31, 4:40 PM by David Goodlund

C'mon Friends I Haven't Met Yet

This is not a picture of me when I was a kid. I was blonder, smarter and WAY more convincing when I threw tantrums.

This is a personification of my inner turmoil over nobody sending me invites for any of the cool new sites that are popping up to replace the sacred pig. what(dot)cd or libble(dot)com are supposedly pretty dude.

So, if you want me to stop, please send an invite to the current personification of me now on the right of your screen.

Spanks.