Sunday, November 13, 2011

In which I fall in love with Carson Palmer






Carson, babe, I know I MAY have insinuated you might be a douche bag in a previous post, but I didn't mean it. In fact, since that day I've gone out of my way to make excuses for your mistakes. Like, at least 4 or 5 of your INTs have been a result of timing/familiarity issues and not from bad reads or bad throws. It's not your fault that the defense decided to let Timmy and Tebowettes walk all over them in the 2nd half last week. It's not your fault that Darren McFadden is carved from balsa wood. You are clearly better at throwing the football than Jason Campbell is and ever will be. The team is starting to get used to you, and you to them. Things are starting to come together. I understand why you're in my life now. I'm not afraid anymore! Look, Carson, what I'm trying to say is that I... I'm in love with you.



Let it sink in...



OK, there, I said it. You are everything I've ever wanted in a Raiders QB. You have a rocket arm. You complete passes. You have a chip on your shoulder. You're everything I've been looking for since the day Jim Plunkett walked out of my life. You're everything Jamucus Russell was supposed to be. You're the quarterback I wanted. You're the quarterback I needed. I went through the motions with Campbell, pretending to be happy, but the spark was never there. I was just happy he wasn't Jamucus. Aaron Brooks, Kerry Collins, Rich Gannon, Jeff George, Jeff Hostetler, Jay Schroeder, Donald Hollas, Todd Marinovich, Andrew Walter, Josh McCown, they all broke my heart. I wanted to love them, but they just never loved me. You, you're different. You make me want to be a better fan. You make me believe in the passing game again. I never thought the vertical game could feel like this again. I had forgotten how great it feels to know that your QB is going to put the ball where his receiver has a chance to catch it literally every time it leaves his hand. You have restored my faith in the forward pass, and for that I will always love you.

I don't know what the future holds, but I have no fear so long as you are my gunslinger. Thank you Carson Palmer for showing me that it's OK to let love open the door to my heart.

2 comments:

Whiouxsie said...

Shit, I don't even remember Donald Hollas. Was that 05? 07?

The others I remember all too well, and the one-kneed ghost of Daunte Culpepper too, and I thought Campbell was okay, but then Palmer floats those balls in to those narrow, no margin for error gaps, like the TD to Reece last week or that one to Boss for the key first down on the last drive, and it's like, yeah, Finally!

The Baron said...

I think that's the same feeling I get in one of those instances that happens maybe once in every three games where Jay Cutler actually gets to throw a pass without having to run around for ten seconds as the line collapses first.