Allow me to screed for a moment.

90% of what’s on this site is of the tongue-in-cheek variety. Even the mean stuff is often written with a smirk rather than a scowl. I generally try to avoid the hot take, great big loud opinion so readily available on sports talk radio, where the supposed outrage is justified because of the size and reach of the platform. But. But Jesus Christ, this, this is what the Eagles coaching search is down to?

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Really? We’re just going to leave it here? Leave it at, in order, the 700-year-old coach of the New York Giants who routinely got his brains bashed in by Chip Kelly and whose teams since 2012, in this new era of up-tempo offenses and sports science, earned a combined record of 29-36… the dopey protege of the former Eagles coach who got fired after hanging around three years too long, who just recently has been granted permission to watch R-rated movies call some plays for 27th ranked offense in the league… and Pat Shurmur, whose name I routinely spell with an E, who has a combined 10-23 head coaching record in the NFL, who was Chip Kelly’s underling, an offensive coordinator with perhaps less say on his team’s offense than the conscientious objector in a Comcast world takeover cabal. We’ll throw in Giants offensive coordinator Ben McADOOADIDDYDIDDYDUMRAYDIDDYDO and, for compliance purposes, Duce Staley.

This is it. If the Eagles conduct no more interviews, or don’t have a last-minute trick up their sleeve like they did with Chip Kelly, one of those five men will lead the team for the next year or two until they, too, are unceremonsionuly fired by the movie producer.

Oh but Kyle, what about the other, more highly thought of coordinators– say, Adam Gase or Hue Jackson?


Well, Gase is gone because Lurie just can’t be rushed through this sort of thing. The search has to been savored like a fine wine whose grapes were gestated organically below an array of windmills in the Californian hills and then hand-squeezed by a multicultural orphan rescued from persecution and plight, but only after he professed his allegiance to Howie Roseman. And Jackson? Well, he’d want too much control, and we can’t have that with Howie around.

Lurie, the old Indian father, is arranging a marriage for his young prince. Only the most subservient suitor will do! That’s the only explanation there is when you hear that candiates are routinely dismissed because oh, they won’t play nice with Howie. They won’t give him what he wants, when he wants it, and in the manner in which he wants it. 

Consider that two of the Eagles’ top three candidates are linked to no other head coaching jobs. Doug Pederson and his dumb goddamn hair haven’t been even so much as breathed (v.) about for other vancancies around the league. Shurmur is a candidate… for the Bears’ offensive coordinator gig. And Tom Coughlin has drawn interest from only the Eagles and 49ers, but perhaps will learn of other openings when he makes his way out to the mailbox once those damn kids GET OFF HIS LAWN.

Coughlin is 702 (he aged two years since I started this), and would almost certianly not be around long enough to see the fruits of his labor. And it’s remarkable – REMARKABLE – to me that we’re still trying to pry Jeffrey Lurie away from Andy Reid. The Fat Man has been bending his ex-boss’ ear about Pederson and, holy shit, Doug Pederson is going to be the next coach. I just know it. Lurie will go back to his Reid-ian roots and hire Dopey Doug Fucking Funny Pederson to give Howie Roseman handjobs every morning at 6 and 10 in a sort of ritualistic sticky death worship to WIP’s old home on the radio dial. 6 and 10, Doug. Howie goes from 6 to midnight at 6 and 10. That’s your new Eagles, folks– Doug Pederson jerking off Howie Roseman while Jeffrey Lurie watches and we hold up our splash guards.

Please call Jon Gruden.