Justin Tucker is out.

It’s the right thing to do, what with the almost Watsonian number of credible sexual assault allegation against him. I don’t know what it takes to get 86’d from two different spas, but I can’t imagine that’s a card businesses ppay lightly. Fuck that dude.

Of course, the Baltimore Ravens couldn’t say that out loud. Even before “getting #MeToo’d” changed from a complaint to a line on a resume for high government office, Baltimore had a reputation to maintain. Mean. Uncompromising. One of only two teams with an accused murderer in their Ring of Honor equivalent, and at least the Bills had the good taste not to trot OJ out at every opportunity.

If the Bengals had a competent personnel department, they would be the Ravens.

Also, they somehow managed to essentially lose Ray Rice’s grievance when they shitcanned him for beating his wife on camera, paying him most of his salary.

So from both an experience and reputational standpoint, Baltimore felt like it had to male it clear that this parting was for Football Reasons, not because Tucker is a toxic piece of shit that no one wants around their wives, daughters, sisters or female pets.

Don’t get it twisted: there was a Football Reasons case to be made for dumping Justin Tucker into the most polluted part of the Harbor. Dude missed 10 kicks last year, 3 more than any prior season. Moreover, it looked more like a Head Issue than a Leg Issue; the normally automatic Tucker would stand small at the worst times, making less than 75% of his field goal attempts.

But if it was really a performance issue, they would have let him at least try to right the ship in training camp. After all, they now have to absorb a $7 million dead cap hit. If the team really had a conscience, they would have released him when his attorney lept straight to “You can’t prove it”.

So instead, we get a very Baltimore ending to the story: grim, and as unsatisfying to anyone involved as a crab cake at an Inner Harbor tourist trap.

Other News:

There’s hockey! And basketball! And baseball before half the league has given up on contention!

IT’S MAY, BABY!

And the NFL is dead fucking silent. The Big News other than Tucker was a fifth round pick deciding which jersey number he is gonna wear.

Wake me up when we get to minicamp.

WHAT TO READ TONIGHT:

Michael Crichton’s Congo!

A shining reminder that you can be a deeply mediocre author writing a shitty story and still sell a million copies.

Dare to dream!