Today’s column is an open letter to the two-time Super Bowl Champion, and accused sexual aggressor, Ben Roethlisberger.
Dear Ben,
You don’t know me, and hell probably never will. I represent a very insignificant portion of the fan base that dons your jersey and supports you even in your boneheaded decisions on and off the field. We have comes to terms with the facts that a) your head will be comprised of jello by age 40 thanks to our AWESOME offensive line b) you seem to have an insatiable sexual appetite, by reputation and police reports, and c) that mustache you had going at the end of last season did not help any of the above statements.
This is a plea for you to stop slumming around with people that only see ROETHLI$$$BERGER. You’re a celebrity dude, go for the gold. Even the worst celebrities can get the hot ones man, ####, even Ringo Star married a Bond chick. And if you can’t do better than Ringo, then you don’t deserve to be famous. As a fan base, we just don’t get it. Why do you go after girls in depleted financial situations, who know they will never marry you and only seek financial benefit? Some say wrong place wrong time, I call it you being an idiot and having a death wish for herpes, and there’s no challenge flag on that one buddy.
So here is our offer to you: date someone famous. Hell, even go after a trainwreck like Tara Reid, we don’t care. But if you’re going to be in the headlines for roughing the passer, please make sure we’re not dealing with stink-eyed crazies. I hate Tom Brady with a passion, but he got it right. KNOCK UP SUPERMODELS. So let’s say you like it a little rough, don’t go after some 20-year-old (in a bar no less) who in most cases like yours, is after you. Feeling a little pent up anger? Ruin Brooklyn Decker’s marriage, go after Kate Moss or Helena Christensen. You know people who are only after their self-absorbed looks and half of a Tic-Tac.
But if that doesn’t do it for you, stay home and quit embarrassing us, and more importantly, yourself.
-Eat My Sports