When I first came into the league a few years back, I was unlucky enough to be drafted by a ruddy faced old bastard named Tom Coughlin. And it didn’t take long for me to realize that his coaching style was not for me. Gone were the days of smoking a blunt with the Florida St. D-line, as Tommy Boy preached on about “drug tests” and “conditioning,” working me like a drill sergeant.
So when I heard the news that Colonel Coughlin was headed over to Iraq to speak to the troops, I wasn’t surprised at all. He wants to honor the “real heroes” and I say, more power to him. Lord knows that now that we got a peace-loving brother in the Oval office, we need someone to crack the whip.
Tom Coughlin may have a Super Bowl ring, but he belongs on the Iraqi battlefield, not the NFL sideline. It’s the National Football League. Not the No Fun League.