Cry me a Rivers

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From PRivers17:

Dear Coach,

I was sitting at home the other night, watching a football show and practicing marital chastity, when I heard Chris Collinsworth going on about your close friendship with Charles Barkley. Then you came on the show with Charles Barkley and talked about all the “awesome” times you’d had together in Cleveland and Arizona! Coach, it’s bad enough that you use actual curse words when cussing out your opponents. But fraternizing with a recent convict who frequents brothels while driving intoxicated — that’s a luge run to damnation! I’ve been praying for your soul with Tony Dungy, but cowpies on the griddle Coach, you sure don’t make it easy on us! I hope those “awesome times” you talked about didn’t involve harlots! 

Worried,

Philip Rivers

From the Playbook:

Like I said on Inside the NFL Rivers, I respect winners. If those winners want to snort methamphetamines from the cleavage of lactating carnies while operating heavy machinery blindfolded, as Lawrence Taylor did on a regular basis, it’s not for me to pass judgment as long as it doesn’t impair their ability to win. Parcells once left a gutted moose on the hood of my Ford Escort after we lost to the Rams. Did I like it? No. Did it make me respect Parcells any less? Not as long as we were winning. So fuck you, Rivers. Let’s talk at the end of the year.

Philip Rivers on Derrick Mason controversy: Keep it clean

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From PRivers17:

Coach, I can’t believe you used actual swear words when cussing out Derrick Mason in that sideline video I saw the other night. Like every other Christian man in America, Derrick is struggling with the need to preserve his chastity, and you added to his burden by telling him to go f*** himself. You said it three times — I counted. Now I’m a fired-up guy and I’ll throw down with anyone, but when I do I always keep it clean. Just ask Jay Cutler — when I get up in his grill I say stuff like, “Hey Poopypants, you made a doo-doo in your diaper and Jesus hates you for it!” or “Nice toss, Tinkle-Trousers! You were aiming for the potty but you missed the whole outhouse!” How hard would it have been for you to say, “Yee-haw, Mason, my wee-wee is bigger than your wee-wee and you’re a fanny bandit for Satan!” People would have respected you more for it and Mason would have spent the rest of the game worried about his johnson.

From the Playbook:

Fuck you, Rivers. Why don’t we talk after the game, alright?