This is always one of the more popular pre-game items here on Battle Red Blog. We, as fans, need to think more about what the team is doing in the offseason. Sure, they're not playing games anymore, but that doesn't mean that our heroes aren't busy after the end of the football season. Below you'll find my guaranteed 100% accurate predictions for the offseason. Feel free to chime in with your own.
1. Kris Brown goes looking for his mojo. In an attempt to find his missing accuracy, Kris Brown goes on a long, lonely pilgrimage to the one place where kickers can cure the yips: Mt. Yepremian. It's a long, dangerous journey into deepest, darkest Albania that involves crossing a vast desert, repeatedly fording fast-moving, icy rivers and treading on foot through a thick jungle infested with rabid monkeys. At the very end of the pilgrimage, on top of the mountain lives a mysterious hermit who, it is claimed, can heal people's cancer with his belches, turn a lock of hair into a gold chain just by singing the third verse of America the Beautiful and fix a kicker's problems simply by massaging his prostate.
Brown departs for Mt. Yepremian full of hope and dread. After forty days of treacherous travel, Brown reaches the icy summit of Mt. Yepremian. On top is a small hut. Prayer flags flap in the cold, high mountain wind. Inside the hut is a rumpled old man with a long, white beard wearing nothing but a pair of aqua-colored spandex tights. Brown asks the man how he can fix his kicking problems. The man looks long and hard at Brown and strokes his beard.
"I have good news and I have bad news. The bad news: You'll never be a good kicker again. The good news: I have a tape of Gary Kubiak making out with Emmanuel Lewis that I will sell you for fifty bucks."
2. Bob McNair reveals a dirty secret. Somewhere, deep within the heart of darkness, there lies a secret. It's Bob McNair's secret, and he isn't telling anyone. At least, he wasn't planning on telling anyone. But then, at the press conference, Pancakes kept on droning on and on about something to do with Jerry Jones and Tony Romo. Anna Megan wasn't there, so he couldn't amuse himself by watching her breasts jiggle when she breathed. So McNair turned to the bottle, or in this case a hip flask (it's more discreet, you see). Little did he know that Rick Smith had - on a dare from Frank Bush - poured out the appletini that McNair usually put in his flask and replaced it with a mixture of vodka and apple juice. Long story short, after a few belts, McNair charged the stage, threw fifty dollars at Pancakes and told him to hit the IHOP and, trying hard not to slur his speech, told a most amazing story.
Turns out, while Jerry Jones was bragging to the world about his fancy-schmancy new stadium, Bob and Rick Smith hatched a truly brilliant, evil plan. It took a few weeks to put it into place, but it was soon complete. They traveled to the new Cowboys Stadium with a special cargo. In the dead of night, when no one was looking, they snuck into the stadium after the concrete had been poured for the field. As the concrete dried, right on the twenty yard line, the two men buried a secret bad-luck charm, something that was sure to bring bad fortune to the Cowboys for as long as they play in that stadium.
As it happened, Rick Smith was able to call in a favor with an old friend, Kevin Gilbride. Gilbride managed to get David Carr drunk off wine spritzers in the Meat Packing district and convince him to sign an old sweaty jockstrap. Gilbride then DHLed the jock strap to McNair. It is this sweaty jockstrap, autographed by David Carr, that lies buried in the concrete under the twenty yard line at Cowboys Stadium. And it is the curse of this jockstrap that the Cowboys will never be successful as long as it is buried there.
A maniacal grin on his face, McNair drunkenly finishes his story. As he does so, John McCain breaks out into heavy, blubbery sobs.
3. Brian Cushing takes up golf. He is no longer a college lad. He's not going to hop into hot tubs with co-eds. Forget that. Brian Cushing is all growns up. In order to show the world how grown up he is, he decides to take up golf. Cushing accepts an invitation to play in a celebrity golf tournament with a bunch of NFL players. He goes out and buys himself a nice set of plus-fours and a brand new set of Ping clubs, snorts a few lines of HGH, and hits the course. There is a problem, however. In his foursome, also wearing a set of plus-fours, with a brand new set of Pings, is none other than Patrick Willis. Also playing in his group is Osi Umenyiora and some lucky sponsor.
Cushing tees of first. He cracks his neck, blows a snot-rocket out of his left nostril, flexes his jaw and unleashes a mighty swing that sends the ball (and a five-pound clod of earth) three hundred yards down the fairway. Next up is Patrick Willis. Willis cracks his neck, blows a snot-rocket out of his left nostril, flexes his jaw and unleashes a mighty swing that sends the ball (and a six-pound clod of earth) three hundred and five yards down the fairway.
Enraged, Cushing stares straight into Willis's face, flexes his biceps (which causes his shirt to explode) and challenges Willis to a dance-off. Willis looks back into Cushing's eyes, flexes his biceps (also causing his shirt to explode) and agrees. Cushing starts with the Soft Shoe. Willis responds with the Hustle. Cushing goes to the Harlem Shuffle, Willis to the Robot. Cushing and Willis then do the Macarena for thirty-five minutes. Umenyiora gets bored and asks the drinks lady if she wants to go to the bathroom with him. After the Macarena, Cushing and Willis move to the Lambada, the forbidden dance. Neither of the men is willing to give an inch as they shake their hips to the seductive rhythms. Eventually the two men end up tangoing through all eighteen holes and collapse in a heap on the practice green, exhausted.
The two men never speak of this incident to anyone again, but each time Houston plays San Francisco, there is a certain twinkle in their eyes.