The Super Bowl decides all sorts of things (except the best football team of the season, apparently). Does the halftime performer still have it (while the show was better than expected, watching 53-year-old Madge try to keep up with her gay sidekicks was just sad)? Will something happen to get the Fox News Nation all riled up (thanks, M.I.A.)? Has America finally become immune to cute puppies and faded celebrities (Sadly, no).?
But, this year, two of the most loathsome people on the planet decided to go mano-a-mano, to figure out which of them is most hateful.
Now, we all know that Peyton Manning is an asshole who has done nothing but bring pain to the world. But now we know that the selfish behavior that sunk the Colts season extends to putting himself above even his own family.
Anybody who has watched The Petulant One’s foot-stomping behavior for the past 17 years knew he wouldn’t let little brother Eli pass him in the most important measurement for a QB without throwing a hissy fit. Now, it must be hard for a 35-year-old baby to realize that he can no longer suckle unencumbered at the tit of Joe Buck because of a new addition to the family. But the ridiculousness of his tantrum has finally loosened the mask of “good guy” that he’s used to fool people for years.
Granted, it must suck for someone to lose their team and career because of a serious injury. But Peyton made everything worse by putting himself ahead of the Colts consistently (to be fair, they’ve done nothing but encourage this behavior). Since he was drafted in 1998, the Colts have built their entire offense around Peyton, tweaking their system to accommodate his cowardice and dickishness. This got them a ton of regular-season indoor and good weather wins, and one lucky-as-fuck Super Bowl run. They were able to get away with it because Peyton had an impressive run of good health. However, if you had the only keys to a valuable car that a whole organization was depending on, wouldn’t it be prudent to show your backup how to work the clutch? Of course, but that would have made Peyton less special.
When Peyton suffered a serious neck injury last season, which has necessitated three surgeries in the past year-or-so, the Colts were totally fucked. If they’d had a year to prepare, they might have been able to adjust. But Peyton strung them along, signing a brand-new $90 million contract and saying he’d be ready, only to leave the Colts scrambling at the last minute when it became apparent he couldn’t go. He acted like a pouty little bitch on the sidelines (shocker) when he bothered to show up to watch his childish insistence on control bite him in the ass, as the Colts were so pathetic that they got the number one pick. And with 22-year-old Andrew Luck sitting there without a $28 million bonus due him (from a contract Peyton signed when he knew he was seriously injured), there’s no rational man (or non-rational man like Jim Irsay… Go Ramblers) that wouldn’t cut Peyton lose and go with the future.
So, has Peyton read the writing on the wall and lay in the bed he himself made? Oh, you don’t know The Bitchy One if you think that’s the way he rolls. And with little brother Eli coming to town to play his (superior) nemesis Tom Brady (who might use his locker… wah, wah, wah), the 5-year-old that rules the non-football part of Peyton’s brain couldn’t take it. Even though decorum, good sense, and familial love said that he should shut the fuck up except to say how happy he was for Eli and excited he was to show off Indianapolis, he just couldn’t do it. Peyton could have been the older sister bridesmaid who puts aside her feelings and stays classy… instead, he got drunk and gave a toast about what a slut the bride is. All week, he dominated the news coverage that in all fairness belonged to his brother and his city, and brought drama and distraction to what should have been a celebration. The coup de grace was when he had his personal doctors announce on Thursday (THREE DAYS BEFORE HIS BROTHER WAS STARTING THE SUPER BOWL) that he was healthy enough to play that weekend. Good to know, dickweed.
There’s only one subset of human being with the delusional egotism to rival Prince Peyton and knock him off the front page. Thankfully for him, Tom Brady is married to a supermodel. After the disappointment of her Tommy not getting what he wanted, when some impertinent serfs had the temerity to taunt Gisele Bundchen, she commented that Tom-Tom couldn’t both throw and catch the ball (although it probably would have been enough for him just to throw it well).
It takes some balls to react to a disappointing performance by calling out your hubby’s co-workers. At least, it’s something that somebody who’s used to things like relationships and feelings would think twice about. But, when you’re used to a cadre of underlings tossing rose petals under your feet as you head to take a crap, you don’t really sweat such small stuff.
Of course, this has directed all the raging Masshole anger at the loss her way. Given that Brady hasn’t won a title since Gisele came on the scene, and that she dared to impune the character of the beloved Gronk, and that everytime she’s forced to visit the backwater of Boston she undoutedly makes a face like somebody farted THE WHOLE TIME, she was due for some blowback. Poor Gisele… I’m sure that while she’s partying in Paris or Rio, not even the Cristal can wash the bitter taste of not being fully embraced in Beantown out of her mouth.
But that doesn’t mean that she wasn’t a total douche about her disappointment. Let’s put it this way… if your wife showed up to the company picnic after your division lost a big deal and commented that if only the rest of the team didn’t suck… how would that go over?
True, if she was hot and Brazilian and 31 and worth $300 million, you’d probably be OK with it.