Oh... Objectively speaking, a rant fit for a 'When Keepin' It Real Goes Wrong' sketch was a very, very dumb thing to spew to the media. I say that not as a Saints' fan, but as a person who has watched them take just about every perceived slight personally at the encouragement of a Head Coach that loves nothing more than finding vindication in victory. Credit to someone who shares a locker room with Jason Garrett and Dak Prescott for having nothing short of a delusional amount of confidence in a super secret plan to out-muscle one of the most impenetrable offensive lines in the NFL while outwitting both Sean Payton and Drew Brees, I guess. However, when you talk brazenly about how you're going to beat up a bully, it's typically best that you don't let them hear you. It's not too tough to tell tone through transcript when said transcript explicitly and descriptively threatens violence, so the tone of DeMarcus Lawrence's words lead me to believe he thinks he's preparing for the type of offense that spent so many years finessing its way to 50 burgers. The truth of matter is that this iteration of the Saints is just as likely (if not more) to run through you or over you as they are around you, so revving them up prior to a primetime matchup required the type of foresight most commonly seen from a deer standing helplessly in headlights. Any given "Sunday", be damned. About the best chance an average Cowboys' team had of beating a strikingly superior Saints' team that's playing as good of football as Sean Payton has ever coached was to hope to catch them sleeping off all the cheese they've been told not to eat prior to their second Thursday night game in as many weeks. That wasn't anywhere near likely to come to fruition a couple hours ago, as they've seemingly been immune to their own press clippings in gaining momentum like a boulder rolling down a mountain with each passing week, but it's a whole hell of a lot less likely now that they have some...shall we say...inspiration to internalize. My understanding of religious studies is a bit rudimentary, but I have a tough time believing that David pompously puffed out his chest before taking down Goliath, and Goliath has got nothing on the Saints' stoutness in the trenches. Don't let all the laughing, dancing, and candy consumption you've seen on the sidelines fool you, because the fun merely follows the feeding frenzy. The Saints have proven themselves a team full of insatiable dogs when the game is at all in doubt, and DeMarcus Lawrence just kicked awake the most irritable rottwieler in the pack...
Therefore, all complaints of "running up the score" can be directed the way of DeMarcus Lawrence when Jason Garrett is left clapping himself insane like this monkey toy on national television while Drew Brees does a little more maintenance on his MVP odds... ...or when Dak Prescott finds himself awestruck by a dominant run defense, a prominent pass-rush, and an amount of yards and touchdowns he has never before seen grace the scoreboard at Jerry's World. The only points getting shaved are coming at the expense of that stupid, self-important star come Thursday, because a spite-driven Saints' team has just been given all the more reason to make sure they keep their unmatched arsenal of weapons sharp in order to best expose wounds that are now fresh for a salting. One overeager Cowboy not only invited the Problem Child version of Sean Payton to the party but unofficially offered himself up as the muse during a season that's become a goddamn Picasso of pettiness. As my Dad always used to say, you're responsible for your own guests, and the one below undoubtedly just laughed maniacally at the idea of respecting the house of an opposing player that thought it smart to punch up at his antagonistic 10-1 team during game week. DeMarcus Lawrence desperately tried to speak into existence some sort of half-assed humbling of a team that won't stop at beating you if you give them even the slightest of justification to embarrass you. Can't wait to see how it works out for him!
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