Why Your Team Sucks 2. Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Some people are fans of the Tampa Bay Bucs. But many, many more people are NOT fans of the Tampa Bay Bucs. This 2. 01. 7 Deadspin NFL team preview is for those in the latter group. Read all the previews so far here. Your team: Tampa Bay Bucs.

Your 2. 01. 6 record: 9- 7. In those seven losses, the Bucs gave up nearly five touchdowns a game. Derek Carr hung 5. Raiders committed 2. The Rams hung 3. 7 on them somehow. This is a rough estimate, but 9.

Tavon Austin’s total receiving yards last year came against the Bucs. But please keep telling me that this is an up- and- coming defense. This team still starts Chris Conte.

During real games, no less! Your coach: Dirk Koetter. Well, I am sure there are plenty of people that think my playcalling stinks… But I’ve been doing it for 3. I don’t think I’m going to forget how.” Well actually, Dirk, in your NFL career your teams have had a winning percentage below . So it’s not that you’ve forgotten how to call plays, but rather the fact that you never learned how to call them to begin with. By the way, the Bucs were this season’s designated Hard Knocks victim. Let’s see what kind of EXCLUSIVE ACCESS we’ve been given into Koetter and his coaching methods.

Christ. Honestly, it’s like they just draw slogans out of a hat every year. Your quarterback: Congratulations, Jameis Winston!

Your sexual battery case was finally dismissed after reaching an undisclosed settlement with your accuser! Finally, you can put this whole ordeal behind you. What a hardship it must have been. For YOU. Now Jameis is free to be a “leader” who “absorbs the playbook like a sponge” and “routinely commits turnovers that belong in silent comedies”: Every time I gotta read some horseshit about Jameis’s uncommon maturity and growth as a passer, it’s like people completely forget that, at least once a game, he will take the snap and proceed to re- enact every Nordberg scene from The Naked Gun.

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By the way, Jameis has been the showcase star of this season’s Hard Knocks. Here he is killing a cockroach while it’s mating: Technically, that’s ALSO sexual assault. And here he is acting like Taylor Swift in the front row of an award show: I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that Jameis Winston may not be the most genuine (or mature) fellow in the world. Fresh off beating the rap, he had the balls to lecture a group of schoolgirls about being silent, polite, and gentle. Fuck his phony ass with a pirate flag. Thankfully, the Bucs imported a MENTOR to help him become 5. That’s right. It’s Harvard Man, in the flesh!

I could be dead in the ground 5. I swear that Ryan Fitzpatrick could still be holding down an NFL roster spot for no reason whatsoever. This team now has not one, but TWO Harvard grads on the roster. I swooooon at the potential for elevated sideline discourse. Oh, nothing coach. Just sipping some Gatorade and discussing the impact on South China Sea trade routes should a preemptive strike in North Korea take place [FARTS]” What’s new that sucks: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA YOU CUT THE KICKER. Yes, after trading up to draft Roberto Aguayo in the second round, the Bucs had to cut him and replace him with Nick Folk…Priceless.

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That’s what you get for FSU- ifying half the roster. Watch Blood Thirst Online Free 2016 on this page. No one should ever let this team forget about the Aguayo draft bust. This was already one of the worst picks in draft history before they released the poor bastard. They should put a monument to the trade next to the stadium bathroom.

GM Jason Licht should have to walk around with a sandwich board that says I TOOK A KICKER IN THE SECOND ROUND LIKE A MORON all day long.“I’m owning up to it by releasing him. It was a bold move and it didn’t work out. I don’t know what else to say.” “Bold” isn’t the word I’d use there, amigo. Elsewhere on the roster, De. Sean Jackson is here!

On paper, the arrival of Jackson and absolute stud TE OJ Howard (drafted to replace the drunk driver they originally had at that slot) make the Bucs one of the best young passing teams in football. But, as someone who has watched De. Sean Jackson over the years, I can assure you that every accidental fumble Winston makes is one that Jackson can make deliberately. Doug Martin was suspended for the first four games for Adderall, and will be suspended four more after he beats my ass for screaming MUSCLE HAMSTER at him from a nearby balcony. Mike Evans drops passes as swiftly as he drops visible Anthem protests. Jon Gruden is getting inducted into the team’s ring of honor this season, even though Bill Callahan’s playsheet should have been inducted way before him.

One of the linemen dined and dashed on a five- figure club tab. What has always sucked: Miko Grimes claimed that she deliberately got her husband cut in Miami so he could come to Tampa. You played yourself, lady. Only an idiot would scheme to leave the glistening shores of South Beach to go to live in the middle of a Dog the Bounty Hunter fancon.

She must have thought she could avoid the tax man there. I may be biased here because a jury of Tampa tattoo artists bankrupted this site’s former company, but for real, Fuck Tampa. Tampa is the Arizona of Florida. Tampa is a seething mass of divorcees and wannabe pirates deliberately living in the cheesiest possible area. The Bucs stadium isn’t even the most popular building on its block (that honor goes to Mons Venus). There’s a reason that Jon Gruden has a completely unironic love of Hooters. That’s 1. 00 percent Tampa right there.

I’m surprised they don’t blare Hoobastank from air raid signals all day long. I took my family to Tampa for Spring Break once.

Seagulls tried to eat our dinner every night and some lady brought an entire hi- fi system to the pool so she could play Bon Jovi. Tampa is the worst. It’s the only city in America aiming to REDUCE mass transit. Nazis are everywhere. Local sports teams had to give money just to get a Confederate statue taken down and it still hasn’t been taken down. A local middle school tried to sell kids a $1. The Scientologists are the most normal people there.

Fuck Tampa eternally. VIVA GAWKER, MOTHERFUCKER. What might not suck: They’re good enough on offense to score 4. Did you know? HEAR IT FROM BUCS FANS! Matthew: Robert Aguayo. Robert Aguayo. Robert Aguayo. Anton: There is nothing worse than waiting for decades for your team to get a potentially elite QB and then have him be an alleged rapist. Who tells groups of young girls they need to shut up and let the men lead.

Alex: Fuck Josh Freeman. Joseph: In two season Jameis will be the Bucs all=time leader in passing yards, surpassing Vinny fucking Testaverde.

Jeb Lund: The problem with Why Your Team Sucks is that, every year, I strive to think of something uniquely bad about the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, some suck- property that grounds the team athletically and geographically in a characteristic awfulness that other people can point to and say, “I get why thisteam blows.”But I’m starting to think that’s misguided, like writing a negative review of a flat, sad Big Mac. It’s a mediocrity expected, universal and unenlightening, as dissatisfying as you want it to be, assuming you need to buy it at all.

Apart from the pirate ship, Raymond James Stadium is unlovely in the way most stadiums are unlovely. It’s not exiled to some featureless exurban hinterland, but it’s not in a downtown core accessible to walking or convenient public transportation.

Before games, the neighborhood food carts and stalls are all pleasantly above average; afterward, the hassle of finding a way to get to something else to do is what you’d expect. Are the owners soulless profiteers using the NFL revenue stream to underwrite more exciting pursuits while relying on die- hard, underserved suckers? Yes. Does this distinguish them from most NFL owners? No. A Bucs fan gets grifted like everybody else.

Short Stories: Hobnail by Crystal Arbogast     Upon hearing this, Fannie frowned. She was the youngest in her family, and the only girl. Watch Into The Blue Online Hoyts. After living with four brothers, she had prayed fervently to God every night for Him to let her aunt have a girl.

The only other comfort she had was the pretty rag doll that her mother had made for her. Tucking the doll under her left arm and gathering the shawl with the same hand, she stood waiting patiently. Aunt Sally kissed her lightly on the cheek and squeezed Fannie gently. If I have a girl, I hope that she will be as sweet as you," her aunt whispered. Uncle John patted her on the head and said, "Bye Punkin. When that old momma cat has her kittens, I'll give you the pick of the litter."      This brought a smile to Fannie's face and swept away the darkening thoughts of boys.

Ellen secured her own shawl about her shoulders and tossing one side around and over again, picked up the lantern, which had already been lit. Taking Fannie's right hand, the pair proceeded on the three- mile trek back home.

Heavy rains during the last week had left the dirt road virtually impassable for anyone on foot. Ellen and her daughter would return home the way they had come, by following the railroad track.

The track was about one half mile above the road. It wound and wound around the mountains and through the valleys carrying the coal and lumber, which had been harvested from the land. Once on the track, they proceeded in the direction of their own home. Ellen began to tell Fannie about the trains and all of the distant places they went to. The little girl loved hearing her mother's stories of all the big cities far away.

She had been to town only a few times and had never traveled outside of Wise County. Fannie remembered her papa talking about his brother Jack. Uncle Jack had left the county, as well as the state of Virginia. He was in a faraway place called Cuba, fighting for a man called Roosevelt. She wondered what kind of place Cuba was, and if it was anything like home.

The sun's last rays were sinking behind the tree- studded mountains. Coin Heist Movie Watch Online. Shadows rose ominously from the dense woods on both sides of the track. Rustling sounds from the brush caused Fannie to jump, but her mother's soothing voice calmed her fears. It's all right Child; just foxes and possums."      A hoot owl's mournful cry floated out of the encroaching darkness and Fannie tightened her grip on her mother's hand.

Finally, night enveloped the landscape, and all that could be seen was the warm glow of the lantern and the shadow of the figures behind it. It was a moonless night, and the faint glow of a few stars faded in between the moving clouds.

Fannie tripped over the chunks of gravel scattered between the ties and Ellen realized that her daughter was tired. We'll rest awhile child. My guess is that we have less than a mile to go."      Ellen set the lantern down and the weary travelers attempted to get comfortable sitting on the rail. Mammy, it's so scary in the dark. Will God watch over us and protect us?"      "Yes, Fannie. Remember what that new young preacher said in church today.

The Good Lord is always with you, and when you need His strength, call out His name. Better still, do what I do."      "What's that mammy?"      "Well," Ellen said, stroking her daughter's hair," I sing one of my favorite hymns."      While contemplating her mother's advice, Fannie was distracted by a sound. The sound came from the direction they had traveled from, and the girl's eyes peered into the ink like darkness. It was very faint, but unlike the other noises she had grown used to along the way. The slow methodic sound was someone walking, and coming in their direction. Mammy, do you hear that?"      "Hear what child?"      Fannie moved closer to her mother and said, "It's somebody else coming!"      Ellen gave her daughter a comforting hug and replied," You're just imagining things Fannie. We've rested enough.

Let's get on home. Your papa will be worried."      Ellen picked up the lantern, took Fannie's hand, and the two resumed their journey. After a while, the sound that had unnerved the little girl began again. This time the steps were more distinct, and definitely closer.

The distant ringing of heavy boots echoed in the dark. Mammy, I hear it again!"      "Hush child."      Ellen swung the lantern around. See, there's nothing there."      Fannie secured the grip on her mother's hand and clutched her rag doll tightly. The hoot owl continued its call in the distance, and the night breeze rustled the leaves in the trees. The air sure smells like rain," said Ellen. The wind is picking up a mite too.

We'll be home soon, little girl. Yonder is the last bend."      Fannie found comfort in her mother's voice, but in the darkness behind them, the steps rang louder. It was the sound of boots, heavy hobnail boots. Mammy, it's getting closer!"      Ellen swung the lantern around again and said, "Child, there's nothing out there. Tell you what; let's sing "Precious Lord".

Fannie joined in with her mother, but her voice quivered with fear as the heavy steps came closer and closer. She couldn't understand why her mother seemed oblivious to the sound. Ellen's singing grew louder, and up ahead the warm glow of light from their own home glimmered down the side and through the trees. A dog barking in the distance brought the singing to an abrupt end. See child, we're almost home. Tinker will be running up to meet us.

Big old Tinker. He's chased mountain lions before. He'll see us safely home."      "Let's hurry then Mammy.

Can't you hear? It's closer and I'm scared. Let's run!"      "All right child, but see, I'm telling you there's nothing there."      Ellen made another sweep around with the lantern and as they proceeded she cried out, "Here Tinker! Come on boy!"      The dog raced up the path leading to the track and the two nearly collided with him as they stepped down on the familiar trail to home. Ellen, is that you?"      Fannie's heart filled with joy as her father's voice rang out of the darkness. Yes Lige. I'm sorry we're so late.

I'm afraid I walked a bit fast for this child. She's worn out."      Elijah picked up his daughter and carried her the rest of the way home. Once inside of the cabin, Ellen helped Fannie undress and gently tucked her in bed. The comforting sounds of her parents' voices drifted from the kitchen. Even the snores of her brothers in the back made her smile and be thankful that she and her mother were safe and sound. Before closing her eyes, her mother's voice rang in her ears. Lige, I heard the steps.

I didn't want to frighten the child. I kept singing and swinging the lantern around and telling her there was nothing to be afraid of.

But Lige, just before we got off the tracks, I turned the lantern around one last time. That's when I saw what was following us. I saw the figure of a man. A man without a head!".