What your view of sports and life would be if you had too many concussions
Editor’s Note: This article is a collaborative effort between J-Dub and Ryan Meehan from First Order Historians. Read at your own risk.
Sometimes, situations threaten to become a train wreck. Sometimes, situations start as train wreck and only get worse. Then there’s what’s left of the Roger Goodell NFL administration in the wake of the Deflate-gate debacle, which is like a fully-developed train-wreck married to a Kardashian and served on top of a Denny’s “Explode in your Fruit-of-the-Looms” breakfast platter. Let’s be honest, thanks to his over-zealousness, the “Kommissar” is now more screwed than a teenage runaway at a “Combat Zone” peep show.
An incredible example of that comes in the form of a late-night phone conversation between New England Patriots’ owner Robert Kraft and NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell which happened the other night after the Patriots raucous home-opener. The dialogue also happened to be intercepted* by the investigative division of Dubsism. Given what we heard, it’s pretty obvious the “Kommissar’s” days in a position of respect and authority are over.
*Legal Disclaimer – J-Dub and Meehan have a strange way of defining certain terms. “Intercepted” should be read as “completely fucking fabricated” by these two jamokes during yet another of their nights spent mainlining Gorilla Glue and Drano until 6 a.m. Despite that, we here at Dubsism would be willing to bet they aren’t far from the truth…
Roger Goodell: (hears phone ringing, fumbles with his sleep-mask) Who in the hell is calling me at 3:30 a.m.? Who the hell got arrested this time? (Answers phone, obviously irritated) Hello?
Robert Kraft: (Well into his second fifth of sour mash) BAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!!! Where’s your balls, you ginger suck-cocker?
Roger Goodell: Who’s this?
Kraft: Lesh jush say I’m a very rich man that thinksh you’re a clown, that’s who!
Goodell: Damnit Jerry, we go through this every year. The Cowboys don’t get to host the Thursday opener until they win a Super Bowl.
Kraft: No, no, no, you Howdy Doody-looking fother-mucker! This is your old buddy “Blow Up Your Balls” Bobby Kraft. You know, the rish guy with the mosh reshent Super Bowl ring!
Goodell: (Sighs, audibly dejected, yet not surprised to be getting the call) Hi Robert, how’s it going?
Kraft: We celebrating some shit you don’t know nothin’ about you carrot-top piece o’ shit! Know what that is?
Goodell: (Facepalm) What’s that, Robert?
Kraft: WINNING!!! (makes unintelligible screaming noise) Judge Berman stuck that Diffle-Late shit right up your puckered little pooper, and now my boysh got it done on the field yet again! Why don’t you get some glovesh and come over and deflate my ballsh, bitch?!
Goodell: Look, there’s no need to…
Kraft: (Interrupts) Better yet, send that suck-slut wife of yours over to do it. She still working at Foxsh Newsh? There was no diffle-lating those blow-job lipsh…
Goodell: Now, you listen here…
Kraft: (Interrupts again) No, you listen, you orange-headed shon-of-a-bitch. I tried to tell you thish might happen if tried to take down Tom Terrific. You know he’s the goosh that laysh the golden eggsh for you, right?
Goodell: (Sarcastically) Tom Terrific? What does Tom Seaver have to do with this?
Kraft: Who? Seaver? Wasn’t he the dad on “Growing Pains?”
Goodell: Yeah, whatever you say, Robert. Look. We both know you guys broke the rules. You purposely deflated the footballs…
Kraft: Oh, don’t give me that horseshit! You know damn good and well everybody in this league cheats somehowIs it jush me or was thish never an issue until somebody mentioned it might be the fother-muckin’ Patriots doing it?
Goodell: Rules are rules, Robert.
Kraft: It’s also about you enforce them, cock-munch! Everybody cheats! How do you think that Cam Newton managed to drag Carolina to the playoffs? He’s shooting pancreas of South American virgins. You got any idea how hard it is to find 8-year-old virgins in Bolivia?
Goodell: What? What are you talking about, Robert?
Kraft: Don’t act like you don’t’ know. Pusshy. Hot, young, foreign pusshy. I mean even better than that news-bimbo wife of yours, Rog. Holes on high heels. Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean. That team hasn’t mattered in years, and all of a sudden their in the fuckin’ play-offs. Jesus, are you really that stupid?
Goodell: Look. This is about the fact you and your team think you’re above the rules…
Kraft: Awww, get the fuck outta here with that weak shit! Did you hear what that Jew judge just told you, fuckhead? You haven’t been able to prove that we’ve done anything that every other team hashn’t done. Shit, I used to think we were cool. Now, I know you’re jusht a bitch.
Goodell: Let’s not forget I’m still your commissioner, and I still wield an awful lot of power over you and the other owners in a league where…
Kraft: (Interrupts again, only this time much louder) Power?! POWER?! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! Let me tell you about power! You’re only in that job because guys like me put you there. I could have you flipping burgers tomorrow with two fucking phone calls. Power, my assh. We all know you don’t have any power over this league anymore! You’re a pushover who probably passed the bar by having some goddamn Asian kid take the test for you. Oh, and you’re a shitty commissioner, too. We put you in this fucking job to break the union, and now because you can’t keep your head out of your own ass, they’re stronger than ever!
Goodell: (getting pissed) I’ve got enough power to keep you out of your own stadium if I want to.
Kraft: You don’t have enough power to run an electric razor! (Speaking to background) Hey, Jonathan! Do me a favor. Send a text to Jerry, Art Blank, Ginny McCaskey, and Paul Allen. Tell them I want to set up a conference call for tomorrow to talk about getting a new commissioner.
Goodell: Whoa, whoa, whoa…
Kraft: Don’t you “whoa” me, pony-boy! Now do you understand who has the power here?! Now that Tom’s back in town, you’re going to have to eat crow and sit there in someone else’s press box for a while! Some commissioner…didn’t even have the seeds to show up at the season opener of the league he’s “in charge of.” God, you’re such a pusshy…
Goodell: Are we done here? I have a lot of other matters to take care of, you know….
Kraft: (dismissive) Shit…like what? Did Peyton Manning break a fingernail? Do you need to find Tim Tebow a job? What you need to worry about is the fans have turned on you. You should see this local blog here called Turtleboy Sports. Man, they are tearing you two new ones.
Goodell: I don’t have time to pay attention to blogs. Besides, now this is getting incredibly unprofessional, and…
Kraft: (Interrupts again) Awww, fuck off with that. You know what’s unprofessional? You suspending the league’s biggest star for something we all know every team in the league does? What the fuck were you thinking? That the world can’t wait for Jimmy fucking Garropolo? That’s just what I need…the end-zone seats at Gillette looking like a casting call for a remake of “The Sopranos.” Jesus…(shakes head)
Goodell: Well, as much as I’d love to sit here and listen to you rip on me, I have got to go…
Kraft: (Interrupts again) I’m not quite done with you, shithead. I have somebody else here who’d like to talk to you…(hands phone to Jonathan Vilma)
Vilma: Well, if it isn’t Commissioner Cuntface!
Goodell: Who is this?
Vilma: This Jonathan Vilma. Remember me, assface? Remember when your bitch ass tried to suspend me for a whole season and then Tagliabue busted you out? Thought you might have learned your lesson about fuckin’ with real men. Well I got news for you, motherfucker. I ain’t played a game since then and I’m plenty pissed about that!..
Goodell: Look, we all made some mistakes…
Vilma: Not “WE,” motherfucker.. .YOU made some mistakes. YOU tried to take a year’s worth of my fuckin’ money, and now YOU are trying to do the same to Brady? Man, I hate quarterbacks but that’s just pathetic. YOU are pathetic. Your whole tenure as commissioner is a straight up joke. Fuck you, asshole! (throws phone back at Kraft)
Kraft: You hear that, Rog? People fucking hate you. You’re sooooooo finished.
Goodell: OK, OK, I get it. Look…How about if I come up to Foxboro and we can fix this…
Kraft: Not happening, dickweed. Nobody wants you wants you up here. You’re not going to be able to get so much as a hamburger that isn’t loaded with rat poison around here. We don’t need you. We don’t like you. Nobody likes you. Haven’t you figured that out yet? You don’t hear all the people boo you like the dog’s dick you are every time you set foot on the field or walk up to the podium to announce the draft picks?
Goodell: I know that there’s only one owner who calls me at 3 a.m. when he’s drunk, and that can only mean….hang on…Goddamnit, I’m getting a call from Jerry Jones.
Kraft: (Laughing uncontrollably)
Goodell: (Hangs up)
Editor’s Note: There is no truth to the rumor that the ghost of Robert Irsay contributed to Robert’s Kraft’s dialogue.