Chris Kluwe continues to win

[Rayman]

http://deadspin.com/5823788/chris-kluwe-responds-can-i-kick-it-yes-i-can

edit: this was in response to a Deadspin article written by Nate Jackson who, as Herm put it, was the original speed cheese tight end in Madden. Played three years for the Broncos...and was pretty much useless.

Chris Kluwe Responds: Can I Kick It? (Yes, I Can)

Chris Kluwe — Dear Nate Jackson,

It was with some dismay that I read your piece in Deadspin and immediately tried to wrap my head around why a player with a reasonable grasp of the English language who made no measurable impact upon the game (i.e. you) would stoop so low as to berate a National Football League player who has actually completed a full 16-game season (multiple times!), has broken every team record at his position, and above all has contributed to his team winning games (and occasionally losing them [i.e. myself (I love parenthetical asides)]).

Raise your hand if you got lost at the end of that last sentence.

Let's be honest here. Yes, I am a punter. Yes, I don't run routes, or zone block, or cover receivers. Apparently, though, neither did you, which is the only explanation for your total lack of statistics. You, more than anyone else, should know what goes on during special teams, and yet your description of a special teams practice, while venomously hilarious, is quite inaccurate (or maybe you guys had a really crappy punter and you're spot on, in which case, my condolences).

You talk about me like I'm some kind of disease, like punters are some kind of infection that should be excised for the good of the game and how dare we raise our voices when our betters are talking. According to you, punters should be happy to sit in the corner and be treated like shit because we do something different, something that the other 54 members of the team can't do.

Wait, let's parse that last clause for just a second — "something that the other 54 members of the team can't do." Huh. Would you look at that. Tell me, Nate, how well can you punt a football? What's that you say? You CAN'T punt a football?

Then why in fuck would you think that, just because I can punt, my opinion is somehow less valid?

I freely admit I'm not a receiver, or a lineman, or a DB, or a quarterback, but why should it matter what position I play? Have I not spent 16 years of my life honing my craft (just like you)? Have I not spent countless hours running sprints, lifting weights, trying to stay awake during boring-ass special teams meetings (just like you)? Have I not suited up for a game, gotten my clock cleaned by a blindside block on a punt return, tried and failed to tackle Devin Hester (just like a lot of people)? Tell me, when it comes to breaking down who gets to talk, what's the order? Should linebackers not be able to talk before safeties, or are they allowed to talk after the centers? When does the longsnapper get to chime in? Does the X go before the Z or after?

Please, enlighten me with your wisdom, because the next time I have something to say I'd like to make sure it's OK with you that I say it and that I say it at the proper time.

Oh, wait a minute.

I don't really care what you or anyone else thinks about what I say or when I say it. If I see something greedy, hypocritical, or just plain stupid, I'm going to call out whoever the offending party happens to be. I've done it to the owners; I've done it to the NFL front office; and I'll certainly do it if I see it happen with the players. And make no mistake: trying to hold up the settlement of a CBA affecting almost 1,900 players just so four can get special treatment is pretty much the definition of greed. Whether it was instigated by their attorneys, agents, or whoever, it's still a douchebag move to make.

And you know why it's a douchebag move to make? Because it makes ALL OF US look bad. It makes ALL OF US look like grasping, blackmailing, money-grubbing jerks whose only care is how much blood we can squeeze from the rock that is the fans — you know, the people who ultimately pay all of our wages. And I'm not a fan of that. (Owners, make sure you pay attention, too. Charging outrageous sums for drinks, seats, and seat licenses, while a great moneymaker now, is definitely counterproductive in the long run, especially with the advent of high-def TVs). You know how you grow the football pie? It's definitely not by shitting on the people who spend money on you. Maybe this is a small thing, but small things add up over time.

I'll grant you that Mankins and Jackson got screwed by the CBA situation last year. They're entering the prime of their career and were counting on entering free agency. But at the same time, the franchise tag and restricted free agent tag aren't exactly the kiss of death. One year under the RFA offer would be as much money as a doctor earns in his/her ENTIRE LIFE. What. The. Fuck. You're telling me that having to go one year making "only" as much money as most people will earn their entire lives is such a hardship that you need an extra $10 million payout for putting your name on a lawsuit? I honestly don't know how to respond to that.

Oh wait, yes I do. It's a douchebag move.

Speaking of which, my favorite part of your entire rant is the following: "If it is his goal to slide into a post-punter career as a presumptuous and accusatory football analyst, then he has set himself up quite nicely. ..." Let's replace "punter" with "tight end" and see how that reads. Ooooh, it reads quite nicely. I like it. At least I had the grace to do it in 140 characters or less, not this meandering shitstorm that you felt compelled to vomit out at someone you've never met, don't know the first thing about, and likely might enjoy talking to if we ever met at a bar (someone who has written a meandering shitstorm of his own in rebuttal).

So, Nate Jackson, while I respect your right to free speech (as apparently you don't respect mine), I also respect my right to tell you to go jam a tackling dummy up your ass sideways for being a snake-tongued, shit-talking Internet tough guy asshole who is so far out of touch with reality that you have no idea just how privileged we are to play this game for ridiculous amounts of money.

You're not the only one who can craft a sentence, my friend.

Sincerely,
Chris Kluwe
Punter

P.S. I respect all four of the people I called douchebags (Manning, Brees, Mankins, and Jackson). That's why I used the word "douchebag" instead of "asshole" or "fuckwit." Someone acting like a douchebag can still be redeemed; generally it's a momentary lapse of judgment. There's no hope for asshole fuckwits.

P.P.S. tl;dr — U mad bro?

[EmpireWF]

Chris Kluwe has to be the biggest troll of the year so far.

[Chrispy]

WIN

[trojan49er]

P.P.S. tl;dr - U mad bro?

Fucking hilarious, that might just be the greatest thing a punter has ever done

[SHOGUN]

Bodybag.

[Bmore]

My newest favorite player in the league.

[Len B]

Who is Nate Jackson?

[G-men]

:hemad:

[Leftwich]

Who is Nate Jackson?

Exactly

[Nucking Futs]

Chris Kluwe is the man.

[Hasselbeck]

Former Seahawk REPRESENTING!!

[Kuzzy Powers]

That shit that make your soul burn slow..

[Herm]

Nate Jackson's bio from wiki.......

College career

Jackson played at Division III school Menlo College from 1999–2001, and was a key factor in helping the school get attention for its athletics programs. During those seasons he set many records as a wide receiver, and was named first-team All-American during every season he was enrolled, and won the NCAA D-III Offensive Player of the Year after his final senior year in 2001 [1]. Jackson was inducted into the Menlo College Athletics Hall of Fame in 2009 [2]. He also writes for Deadspin and recently got torched by Chris Kluwe, who has more punts than Jackson has receiving yards.

[Herm]

What training camp is really like by Nasty Nate Jackson (where he talks about being friends with a kicker)

Your body says No, but your brain says Yes.

Yes, you will get out of bed. Yes, you will try to eat breakfast. And Yes, you will put on your pads and run out on that field. Despite the pain, the doubt, and the fear, you will say Yes. You always say Yes.

Training camp is hell. Some players adapt to hell well, some burn up quickly. But there is no way around the psychological and physical warfare that players will endure this month.

In a strictly physical analysis, training camp brutalizes the body. The N.F.L. is home to the strongest, most explosive athletes on the planet. Being hit over and over again by these men is a painful ordeal, not so much as it’s happening, but after the fact: after practice, late at night, early in the morning. Morning is the worst.

About three or four days into training camp is when the soreness starts to peak, and it sticks around for about a week and a half until your body starts to desensitize itself to misery. During my six seasons with the Denver Broncos, there were days when getting out of bed was so difficult I was sure there was no way I could practice. Of course I was wrong. I found a way to get it done. Football players learn how to push down the pain and make a play. But it hurts later. It hurts a lot.

Compounding the physical pain is the strange dichotomy between players and coaches. Coaches expect mathematic perfection from their players, so most often, whatever a player does is not quite right. There is always something to improve, even when you get the job done. As my friend Stefan Fatsis eloquently describes it in his book A Few Seconds of Panic, about the summer he spent on the field with me and my Denver teammates (as a kicker), different coaches communicate in different ways. But in the N.F.L., the militaristic approach usually dominates: veiny-foreheaded dopplegangers berating players daily.

The longer you’re around, the more the cackle becomes background noise, which you learn to accept as an industry standard. But it’s unproductive, because the aim begins to be, “Don’t make a mistake, don’t get yelled at.” That’s an awful way to play football, especially when the dudes doing the yelling are or were inferior athletes to you.

The verbal haranguing isn’t exclusive to the field. In meetings every day and night, it continues. The decibel level decreases, but it’s no less biting. Every play of every practice is watched on film by the whole team that same day. Morning practice is watched in the afternoon before the afternoon practice, and the afternoon practice is watched at night before going home. Practices are watched on huge screens with high quality projectors. When a player makes a mistake, it is pointed out and discussed.

Nothing slips through the cracks. Depending on the severity of the mistake, and the frequency of mistakes being made by the player, the reaction from the coaches will vary, but the feeling for the player is always horrible. Being called out in meetings and having everyone in the room watching you fail in slow motion — often with a laser pointer on your two-dimensional body — is demoralizing, and only intensifies the pain. This scrutiny is well intentioned, but often falls flat from overkill, the message trampled by the messenger.

Teams will go through their training-camp schedule for about eight days before a day off. Eight straight days is bad enough, but the length of each day makes it feel much longer. Each day feels like three days. Players arrive at the facility at roughly 7:30 a.m. The first practice is at 8:30 and lasts until around 11. After that comes lunch and a bit of down time, when players relax however they can: napping, video games, reading, crying. A special-teams meeting at around 1:30 p.m. is followed by offense/defense meetings, then back on the field around 4 for a slightly shorter practice than in the morning. After practice is dinner, then meetings from 7 p.m. until 10 p.m.

The meetings drag on more than one would imagine. N.F.L. players spend typically twice as much time in meeting rooms as they do on the field. The attention to detail and robotic application of minute coaching points become an obsession, so there’s always something to fix. This drains the brain. It’s not uncommon to see a rookie make mistake after mistake as he mopes around the field on one day or another, simply because his brain is filled to the brim with detailed coaching points. The players who end up making the team and having a sustained career in the N.F.L. are the ones who can process these details and apply them quickly. It’s one thing to understand what you’re supposed to do, but to actually do it, at 100 miles an hour against the best in the world, is another thing entirely.

Adding to the general feelings of blah and barf are cuts that must be made as August progresses. Realistically, of the 80 guys on each roster, 15 are already cut. Coaches have a pretty good idea of what the final roster will look like. There’s a little bit of wiggle room in the middle of the depth chart. At every position, there are usually two guys competing for one spot. This is usually where I found myself, fighting for my professional life on a daily basis, battling with another good football player who was often my friend. I learned how to win that daily battle, but it never came easy, and someone was always left in its wake.

But this is in the middle of the depth chart, meaning that if a team is carrying 10 receivers in camp, receivers Nos. 5 and 6 are battling for a job. Nos. 7 through 10 are camp bodies, there to bolster the numbers, to take punishment, to give veterans an occasional rest, to serve as verbal punching bags for position coaches trying to make a point. This happens at every position, even quarterback. Players see this happening to them, and there is nothing they can do about it. At the bottom of the depth chart, guys get very few quality “reps” — repetitions, turns to play in practice. Coaches often encourage these players, saying things like, “Don’t count your reps, make your reps count!” But reality sets in. For many, this will be the last football they will ever play.

Yes, there is much to worry about this month for players on N.F.L. teams. For every superstar, there are 10 blue-collar players who fear their job security is in danger. This fear makes them anxious and paranoid. If you know someone in the N.F.L., leave him alone this month. If he survives, he will be better for the experience. Just wait until September to ask him about it.

This lifetime scrub thinks a lot of himself huh? You mean to tell me your 35-65 year old coaches are inferior athletically to you?

[Rayman]

What training camp is really like by Nasty Nate Jackson (where he talks about being friends with a kicker)



This lifetime scrub thinks a lot of himself huh? You mean to tell me your 35-65 year old coaches are inferior athletically to you?

This guy's a fucking pussy.