Fool me once, shame on you…
Fool me twice, shame on me.
I have egg on my face.
This isn’t the Michael Vick 2.0 that I was sold last year — I already have buyer’s remorse watching Mike Vick Redux.
Since getting what Michael earned, Mike’s got his swag back. To quote Eminem “Money is what makes a man act funny.”
I will not coddle Vick and set him up for failure like the people in Atlanta did. I will, however, hold him to the same high standard as I did last year, because it looks like some people aren’t, anymore.
You have eyes; you’ve seen it happen. This isn’t the Michael Vick we saw last year. He has become comfortable. He is “the man” — he’s back to being Mike [editors note: I use a similar tactic to separate romantic comedy McConaughey (Matthew) from slick, Two For The Money McConaughey (Matt)]. Do you think while laying on his cot, staring up at the top bunk, he could of even dreamed it would of been this easy?
Less than one month out of federal prison he put his signature on a million dollar contract. That will do wonders to help a bruised ego. Add on top of that trading two franchise quarterbacks, and as your fiancé so eloquently put it giving him “100 million dollars to plank on” and you’ve got a case of deja vu.
Why would Mike even bother with a mirror?
If he isn’t going to hold one up to his face, allow me: The Giants blitzed the hell out of you and you were clueless.
You have shown that you aren’t a smart enough football player to call out the pass protection and read a secondary within 20 seconds. You aren’t getting any help from your coach, but you didn’t last year, either. You made it all happen. We went as far as you took us; a pass that came up short to our tallest receiver.
I could rattle off stats that prove you haven’t been the same player, but honestly I find the off the field Mike Vick to be far more compelling than the “I never learned the game of football and am still relaying on my aging athletics” Mike Vick. Let’s face it, you aren’t getting faster.
I don’t mean to be so harsh, but when you stop taking all the blame, and start pointing the finger at others, my tendency is to put you under the microscope.
You blamed your “meh” performance against the Rams on a Red Bull. You said it was hard to focus because of how jittery it made you. You followed that up with three turnovers within eight minutes against the Falcons — your former enablers. You swept that under the concussion rug and pointed to the scoreboard as you retreated to the locker amidst a sobering shower of boos. Then came our arch-enemy, the New York Football Giants.
Something didn’t seem right. Reid called eight running plays — in a row. Then decided to go with an empty backfield and throw the ball. You run to set up play action — any 13-year-old has played enough Madden to know that.
I know the Eagles would have won if you had stayed in the game, but you didn’t. It was reported that you broke your hand and wouldn’t be returning. It hurt so much that you were icing it on the sideline, but to your credit you never showed it on your face (that’s sarcasm for those of you not paying attention).
Then you pulled off your greatest performance yet. You made people believe you were a victim again — I guess it comes natural at this point.
The Giants didn’t hit you late. Not one play. Anybody saying they did has fallen for your “woe is me” song and dance all over again. You held onto the ball too long. Playing quarterback is about anticipating things quicker than anybody else on the field. Something that you aren’t doing, and I’m starting to wonder if you can.
The reason I bought your Kelly Green throwback last year was because you deserved it.
The reason you were on the cover of the New York Post Tuesday as a baby is because you deserved it.