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Facing Adversity: Nazi Bombing Raids, Tank Formations, and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers


PhillyB

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Alright dammit, there's no denying this has been the toughest start to a season since Rob Chudzinski had Brandon Lafell running quadruple option spiral reverse routes downfield every play and Haruki Nakamura made us collectively black out on the floor. Gano lost the opener, Cam's footwork has regressed to rookie status, and our defensive backs look like Dave Gettleman snagged them snagged them out of my three-year-old's daycare playground. Refs go blind every time a defender earholes Cam, Shula has gotten immeasurably worse, and Bene Benwikere publicly mailed it in against our historic foe and got axed. Everyone's injured, bandwagon fans are dropping like flies, and the Huddle is turning against itself in a pit of frothing frustration and rage.

Well chin up, goddammit, and walk with me through the annals of history and let's look at a couple of people who faced real adversity and transcended it, stood up against all odds to declare eleventh hour victories when the chips were down.

 

1) The London Milkman. Is there anything more pedestrian than a guy who takes bottles of milk and puts them on peoples' porches? Is there any calling more cut out for the flaccid milquetoasts of modern society than delivering milk? Hell no. Is there anybody less inspirational than a milk man when the Nazis start carpet bombing your city and reducing it to rubble? Hell no... until this guy came along.

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No one knows this guy's name, but when the chips were down, he stepped out of anonymity to do his fuging job even though the rest of the the city was cowering in the scattered remains of their city. You know what this milk man's name is? His name is Zack Sanchez. He's standing amidst the rubble of the Panthers secondary, among the hollow, smoking skeletons of the hopes and dreams of championship glory. Much like the nameless London milk man, he's going to come in and do his damn job. Undersized? fug it. Burnt in camp? fug it. Poor awareness? fug it. Prediction: Zack Sanchez holds down the outside, bats a couple of balls down, jumps a Jameis Winston duck on an out route and takes it to the house to set the tone early, giving inspiration to a team and nation.

 

2) The Tiananman Square Demonstrator. Is there anybody or anything with less power than a Chinese college student demonstrating against Communist oppression in 1990s Beijing? Absolutely not. Hundreds of his college bros were getting mowed down in the streets by ruthless Chinese government troops, and in the face of death he stood silently, his posture defenseless, his mind aware, capturing the eye of the entire world as he made four fuging tanks stop in the middle of the street and respect the power of the people.

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You know who else is facing four metaphorical tanks on Monday night? The offensive line. If I had a nickel every time those unlucky bastards got blown up by the first green dog blitz Mike Shula has ever seen I'd have like fifty dollars. Contrary to every Bucs team in the last decade this one has managed to put together a defensive line that's getting major pressure on just about every snap. And just like that Chinese college student, Mike Remmers and the rest of the ragtag crew are going to stand solid in the face of enormous pressure, throwing off the cloak of tyranny en route to a trench-level beatdown that'll give Jon Gruden PTSD on national television and set the Panthers on a course to run the table for the rest of the season. Prediction: zero holding penalties for Mike Remmers, Trai Turner doesn't call any refs bitches, and Fozzy rumbles for 120.

 

3) That dude who tested the first-ever bulletproof vest. Everyone knows it was W. H. Murphy, but nobody remembers him for his name. They remember him because he strapped on some beta-tested prototype and stood face-to-face with the barrel of a revolver six feet away and took one to the chest. This fuger didn't even blink. He walked in believing in what he knew he and his product was capable of and faced the ultimate stakes: success or death.

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Much like W. H. Murphy, Derek Anderson walks into Monday night with nothing but a glint in his eye and confidence in his product. Derek Anderson, tried and tested, his dirk rusted in the blood of the hearts of three Buccaneers teams before this one. He faces the bullet of a defense drooling at the prospect of jumping those short-armed out routes, of safeties playing inside and infield to take away the strength of his throws. He knows he's gonna take one to the chest, and just like W. H. Murphy he doesn't give on single fug. Chin high, unblinking, unphased, he'll notch another victory, secure some momentum for the reigning MVP, and send the Apple Roof Cleaning guy diving off the nearest gulf coast fascia in search of death's sweet release. Prediction: 230 yards, 2 TD, 1 rush TD, 0 INT.

 

So quit your bawling, quit making god-awful quips about David Gettleman, quit starting threads about the 2017 draft and ride with the team. Take one to the chest, stand in front of tanks, walk through the rubble with your bottle of fuging milk and watch the Carolina Panthers drag Jameis and the rest of those pewter-clad turds up and down BOA for four quarters of full-throated glory.

Panthers 31

Bucs 13

 

 

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