Look How The Tables Have Turned Motherfuckers

Well, well, well, look what we have here. I bet after John O’Korn’s performance the past few weeks you’re wishing my whole spine hadn’t cracked in half. Now you’re realizing Coach Harbaugh didn’t just put me in at first string because I resemble his younger, more idealistic self. I have some real skills too, foregoing target accuracy.

You were all so quick to discard me after my back got messed up. Sure, the Purdue game ended in a win, but how about that Michigan State game? What about Penn State. Look who’s laughing now. It’s not John O’Korn, that’s for damn sure.

I have been groveling my way to the top since my backup days as redshirt. I have spent many a sleepover at Harbaugh’s house to be where I am, and you’d be smart not to cast my memory aside for an inconsistent performance by some guy named after a metal band.

For now, I wait in the wings, ready to return when my value is truly appreciated by you fair weather fans, and when I can finally find a doctor who knows how to glue vertebrae back together.

And maybe our third string gave you one easy win, but that Brown Jug isn’t even that easy to drink out of anyway. He only won because the Minnesota team is afraid of thunder. Everyone knows that.

I saw you smile when I went down. But baby, you won’t be laughing long, because look how the motherfucking tables have turned.

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