Robert Griffin III’s Knee: “Help, They’re Trying To Kill Me Again!”
Please, if you’re reading this, help me. Call 911, contact the authorities, something. They’re trying to kill me again!
For years now, they’ve been after me. First, my LCL was torn in college. Do you have any idea how much that hurts? Some people might’ve seen that as a sign that maybe playing a violent, barbaric game that bends the human body in ways it was never intended wasn’t the shrewdest of life choices. But no, they rehabbed me, just to subject me to more abuse.
So then I got dragged off to Washington to join the pros. Things went along pretty well for a while. I was flexible and healthy, and for a few months there me I helped my owner the toast of the league.
Then came the game in Baltimore. Something called a “Haloti Ngata”gave a Grade 1 tear during a tackle. Do you have any idea how much it hurts when a 340 lb behemoth twists the shit out of you? Here’s a hint: it hurts like a sonofabitch. So after that, the Redskins did the smart thing by putting me on the injured reserve list to protect me for the rest of the year while what’s-his-name contemplated getting into a safer line of work, like insurance or banking.
HAHAHA JUST KIDDING. Of course they didn’t do that. Instead, after only a week off, they threw me right back out there to be hit and yanked and smashed again by more vicious hooligans.
Well, pretty soon, it was time for the playoffs. So they have this world-renowned knee specialist, Dr. James Andrews, inspect me. And this authority on the human anatomy, this expert on medical science, takes one look at me and says, quote, “Eww, gross. This knee is a mess. There’s no way I’m clearing him for contact.”
So do you think that the team took his advice and kept me out of the game? If so, then you clearly haven’t been paying attention. Coach Mike Shanahan, who got his medical degree from the University of Up His Ass, overrides Dr. Andrews and sends me out for yet another bone-crunching afternoon of football.
Of course you know what happened then. The Seattle Seahawks aggravated the tear, and that was the end of the season for me and the team. Dr. Andrews used a really sharp knife to slice me open and stitch me up as best he could, and for a few glorious months afterwords I was safe. They kept me wrapped up in some nice warm bandages, I had a brace covering me to protect me, and most importantly, no giant slobbering defensive lineman were trying to tear me apart like a turkey wishbone.
But now it’s training camp. And have you heard what old braid-head up there has been saying about me? That he wants to, “move on and take a bigger role in practice” Translation: “I’m a reckless asshead who is going to continue to abuse my tortured right knee until it twists in every direction like a bendy straw”
So please, if you’re reading this, help me. You’re my last hope. Save me from these maniacs. They don’t understand that the human body was never meant to play football. I’m running out of time here. The Redskins open the season in just four weeks against the Philadelphia Eagles, which means that a real NFL-caliber defense will be hitting me in just five short weeks. SOMEBODY SAVE ME!
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