So it happened. Rob Ryan has officially been callously booted from the sinking riverboat that is the Neyw Orlins Saints.
I come to bury Caligula, not to praise him. Yes, I sorta shit on Rob in my season preview, noting that his name outstripped his numbers. And yes, his defense has shown a heartbeat in exactly one game this year. And yes, making Kirk “Incest” Cousins look like Jesus-Loves-Me-Era Kurt Warner is a capital offense in 27 states. But that doesn’t mean I agree with canning him mid-season.
The Aints are mired at the bottom of their division, which (unlike last year) means they have no shot at the division title. They’re worse than the Buccaneers, the flashing-LED-Alarm-Clock-After-A-Power-Outage of the NFL. A brief examination of their remaining schedule suggests a best-day 7-9 season, which condemns them to another mid-round draft pick with little hope of finding Breesus’ replacement save through actual divine* intervention.
*Or Satanic. Looking at you, Tawm “Pick 199” Brady
So instead I propose the better idea would have been to keep Rob, his van and his entourage of Thai ladyboy “quality control assistants” on the payroll, and just turn them the fuck loose. Either you will see a significant uptick in the defense’s performance from the “run through a brick wall” factor (See Rex’s Crimson Scourge) or they will blow out entirely, giving NO a legit shot at drafting Drew Almighty’s successor in the first two rounds, a year before he becomes Utterly Useless.
So anyway. Weep not for the Wolfman, for he will finally have the time to devote to his true hobby: obtaining the complete set of Franklin Mint “Mama’s Family” Collectable Plates. Instead, weep for us: the forsaken children left with no cool/creepy uncle left to buy us Natty Light.