He’s a bitch boy
(Mamma is pissed)
I cannot believe what I just witnessed in that Chargers–Raiders game. Yes, the Chargers pulled off the win — and trust me, I am thrilled — but I swear my blood pressure is still somewhere in the stratosphere because of one man: Max Crosby.
I’m sorry, but at this point someone needs to check that man’s birth certificate because there is no way he came into this world like the rest of us. He plays like he was raised by a pack of hyenas and taught football by a demolition derby instructor. Every time Justin Herbert so much as breathed, here comes Crosby flying in like he’s auditioning for a villain role in a superhero movie. Grabbing, twisting, taking those late shots—my goodness, I was halfway out of my seat yelling like I was about to march onto that field myself.
And don’t tell me “that’s just football.” No. No. If that was “just football,” the entire Chargers offensive line wouldn’t be out there looking like they were trying to babysit a toddler throwing tantrums in the middle of a grocery aisle.
But despite all that chaos, despite all the nonsense, the Chargers still handled business. That’s what makes this win so sweet. They didn’t just beat the Raiders — they survived the Max Crosby Circus of Unnecessary Aggression and still walked out winners.
So yes, I’m proud. I’m relieved. And I’m absolutely exhausted from hollering at the TV like someone’s overprotective, drama-soaked mother because apparently that is who I become when Max Crosby decides to act like every play is sponsored by pure chaos.
Chargers win. My voice is gone. Fuck you Max go back to prison Crosby…
Question:
If you went out on the field acting like Max Crosby with all those wild, dirty plays, what kind of punishment would your mom hand out — and why is it probably a mix of a chancla, a lecture that lasts three presidential terms, and being grounded until the next Super Bowl?
FTR FTC. FTB B-E-A-UTIFUL BOOBIES k love you bye
