Matty Birk Sleeps WIth the Fishes

I generally try not to get too emotionally attached to guys who play for the Vikings anymore. This is not the relative static roster, give or take a few role players, of the Purple People Eaters of my youth, so attaching emotional investment for a guy that will be gone in about five or six years can kind of suck. Free agency has changed the dynamic of pro football, and overall that’s a pretty good thing. As you grow up you realize that pro sports is a bottom line business, and that teams undergo significant upheaval on a regular basis. But from time to time, there’s a player or two that I get attached to, an underdog or a blue-collar type guy that you just love to root for, because you can identify with that person in some sort of way.

Matt Birk has been that guy for me. I don’t identify with him because we went to Harvard. Hell, the only way I’d find myself in Harvard would be by getting lost looking for a strip joint in Beantown proper. I don’t identify with Birk athletically. I was probably the worst starting quarterback in the history of the Ohio High School Athletic Association. I mean, there’s bad, there’s craptastic, and then there was me, hovering somewhere below the high school version of Spergon Wynn. I don’t even relate to Birk physiologically. Where Birk is probably 310 pounds of twisted steel, I’m 210 pounds of chewed bubble gum, and growing at a rate that makes the stimulus bill look miniscule.

But I do relate to Birk in this regard: He got to live his dream, and he worked hard to get where he is. When I was a kid, I wanted to play for the Vikings, my hometown team, but I realized pretty early on that I better adjust my expectations. I did, and made the most out of a 20 plus career in the military. Birk was fortunate enough to get drafted by the Vikings in 1998, but didn’t play. He was primarily a practice squad guy, but hard work paid off, and in 2000 he took over as the team’s starting center, and has been one of the few positive faces for this team in the early part of the 21st century, as they navigated the through Randy “I Made Al Harris My Bitch” Moss, Daunte “I’m a one knee, $10 million QB” Culpepper, Mike “I got Super Bowl tickets” Tice, and the rough waters of the Love Boat.

But now, it looks like Matty B will sleep with the fishes, at least as a Minnesota Viking. Don Vito Childress seems like he wants to move in another direction and get rid of Birk. Hey, it happens all the time in the NFL, but this one hurts a little more. For one, I like Birk, for reasons stated above. Secondly, there really doesn’t seem to be an experienced backup that is ready made to move into Birk’s spot…but we said that about Birk when he took over for Pro Bowler Jeff Christy, so maybe there is. But the part that annoys me is that Chilly is whacking him not for a drop in performance, but because Birk and the coach “disagree philosophically” or something similar. I can just imagine how that conversation went down.

Matt Birk: Coach, our offense sucks, and we need to do something about it. Adrian’s a once in a generation type back, and our defense rocks, but if we can’t throw the ball and keep using AP as a battering ram, we won’t get anywhere, our defense will get old, and our golden opportunity to bring a Super Bowl championship to the good people of Minnesota will evaporate.

Brad Childress: Our offense doesn’t suck. Our offense kicks ass. Didn’t you see my final press conference in 2006?

MB: Really? You run left on first down, run left on second down, throw a screen pass on third down, and then we punt. How is that kick ass? You’re more predictable than a porn movie plot. Guys who were terrible high school quarterbacks know what you’re going to call 80% of the time. Don’t you think if some idiot that writes a little-known blog knows what coming an NFL defensive coordinator might have a clue?

BC: We have Adrian Peterson. And I know quarterbacks. We kick ass.

MB: You’re playing checkers, and everyone else is playing chess.

BC: We had a 99 yard touchdown pass.

MB: Even a blind squirrel can find a nut, coach.

BC: Our offense kicks ass.

MB: No it doesn’t, unless you masturbate to Big 10 football game film from the 1970’s.

BC: I guess we disagree philosophically. Pack your shit.

So Birk crossed the Godfather, and the Godfather took his revenge. Godspeed to you, Matty B. Wherever you land, may it be on your feet, over a football, on an offensive line that wins the Super Bowl.

Just don’t piss off your next boss, okay? (Watch this last link if you're at work...it's the Christian Bale rant...NSFW)