December 8, 2022
Ithaca, NY | 40°F


The roast of Albert Haynesworth

I feel like I need to preface this with disclaimer: I do not know Albert Haynesworth, I have never met him, never seen him in person even. The guy could be sitting in Five Guys and I would be more focused on my burger. Actually, I know he would be too. But I don’t like him. If he wants to stomp on my face while wearing cleats, then fine I’m suing him for the money he stole from the NFL.

Albert Haynesworth frustrates my britches. HE RAN A 4.82 40-YARD DASH AT 6’6” 317 POUNDS. That’s two of me (I’m a buck-sixty soaking wet), running faster than I can run. That doesn’t even make sense.

I don’t care if Haynesworth decided to take his freakish athletic ability and become a librarian. Fine by me. If he wanted to become the best librarian in the Northeast, I’d be alright with it. But he chose to be football player and chose to not try.

Not only that, but he took his money and ran. Got his paycheck with the Redskins, did a few nasty things on the way and got out of football.

Am I glad he got released today by the Buccaneers? No. I can’t say I wish the worst on anyone, but do I feel like he deserved it? Absolutely.

Wouldn’t have a problem if he comes out in a 60 Minutes interview and says he’s going to do something with the loot that he stole from the National Football League by just being an athletic, brainless, selfish piece of space on the defensive line for a few years. Take a missionary trip, Albert. Meet some people who didn’t happen to pop out of the womb blessed with Hulkness. Yeah, if we put you on a scale next to them, you’d be heavier. Sweet. You have toys because you are a large human and our society pays large humans to tackle other large humans.

Put an average person’s heart on a scale next to Albert’s, he gets outweighed every time. Sorry, Al, you can’t buy that.