AND NOW, AS PROMISED, A SPECIAL COMMENT...

by Andrew, The Grand National Championships

By way of necessary preface, Derek Anderson and his horse balls, and the quarterback’s mother, and the quarterback’s brother, were of immeasurable support to me at the moments when these very commentaries were the focus of the most surprise, the most uncertainty, and the most anger. My gratitude to them is abiding.

Also, I am not here endorsing Brady Quinn’s nomination, nor suggesting it is inevitable.

Thus I have fought with myself over whether or not to say anything. Events insist.

In fact, Sir, you are now quarterbacking as if Brady Quinn were Jay Cutler and you were Scott Mitchell. As Shakespeare wrote, senator, "that way madness lies." You have missed a critical opportunity to do what was right. Your back-up has developed the reputation of someone who rocks out to Fefe Dobson and breaks down Gossip Girl like Peyton manning breaks down game film.

You need to stop this, sir. Before the wise old coach in the sky decides to sit you down. Before another Cleveland child resigns himself to love his team like a Baltimorian loves their heroin, sir. Before a wild-eyed fantasy football player decides that he wants to go Zidane upside your concussed head.

You have one chance at redemption. Don't waste it.

Good night and good luck.