"Always felt that salary caps and laws prohibiting a man from packing a .38 Special were for commies and the CFL."
Prior to last week's NFL Draft, Barry Switzer was kind enough to break down the quarterback class. Now that the dust has begun to settle, we asked Coach to hand out draft grades to the franchises. Take it away, Switzy.
I've had recruiting classes solely of Houston high schoolers that I'd take over this pull, but all in all, not bad for the Special Needs Oilers. Not sure I'd take a fella that played under Spurrier for a few years at Number 1 though. Maybe its the Ozarks in me, but my idea of a man isn't someone who drinks vodka lemonades while playing a Two Dollar Nassau. Tip of the cap for drafting Tom Savage for joke purposes. That kind of shit really brings a locker room together. GRADE: two Ingrid Bergmans.
St. Louis Rams
I once had a player with the leanings of Michael Sam. Name was Troy Aikman. He found himself in Los Angeles and fashioned a nice career without the supple caresses of a woman. Don't see how Michael can't do likewise in the L.A. Rams organization. GRADE: gator skinned loafers.
Kudos to Jacksonville on finding all their city's characteristics in a quarterback - sprawling, sweaty, boring, and Floridian. GRADE: Judy Garland's undercarriage.
Cleveland didn't address many of its needs, but then again, how do you draft for clinical depression and rampant poverty? Memo to Johnny: having a flammable body of water nearby has gotten me out of many little snafus. GRADE: Farrah Fawcett's used razors.
Always had a soft spot for this lovable scamp of a franchise. Speed (foot and amphetamine) used to rule the day in Oakland. Sure, the wins were sparse, but it was a party. This new management team drafted Derek Carr for chrissakes. GRADE: two severed thumbs.
You have the start to a nice, volatile recipe when you draft a mix of Ra'Shede, Dezmen, Devonta, Prince, and Marquis. The Falcons drafted a fella outta UConn by the name of Yawin Smallwood in the late rounds. Ol' Switzy has been working on a little side hustle of the adult film variety. I think a protagonist by the name of Guffaw Hungwood is just the ticket. GRADE: possum brisket.
Tampa Bay Buccaneers
A franchise doubling down on offense and tattoos while completely neglecting its defense brings a tear of joy to my eye. Been trying to get Lovie Smith to loosen up for years. I think that Christmas prank I pulled with the wounded escort fell on deaf ears. Someone has to be the Tyler Perry of the NFL, I reckon. GRADE: a cow trough of Darrell Royal tears.
Same song, different verse for these dumbshits. Lots of names, and not a looker in the bunch. Like a bottom rung sorority in Stillwater. Howard Schnellenberger called me shitfaced the other morning as he's wont to do and started popping off on Viking funerals. He's obsessed with them. Told me that he wants ol' Switzy to be the officiant for his Viking funeral in the Florida Keys when he kicks. I couldn't say no - I'm pious like that. GRADE: a fleecing at an Indian casino.
Ah the old bitches of America's Team. I used to love picking on these Canadians. Anyway, they addressed some needs in the trenches and drafted a couple drug mules in the seventh to help transit across the Niagara Falls. GRADE: Bette Midler in a muzzle.
Hard to compliment a draft class that features an Ivy Leaguer and a couple Utah missionaries. GRADE: HIV positive.
Calling Zach Mettenberger a franchise quarterback is akin to calling Billy Belichik a gas to drink sour mash with. I reckon every league needs its share of franchises to serve as AAA ball club whipping boys, and for that, we thank you, Nashville. GRADE: Porky's Revenge.
New York Giants
I don't blame Eli for being a half tard pussy disappointment. He didn't get to choose that dandy as his father. Folks, the lion's share of the blame for why the South will never rise again can be placed on the Manning family. Get a handful of Switzer kin, a trunk of shine, and some bayonets an it'd at least be interesting for a few quarters. GRADE: the Bill Parcells Cowboy experience.
I was pissing in Lake Michigan back in February with some of the Chicago brass after a night on the town and dared them to take a punter as a joke. And wouldn't you know it - the sumbitches did it! Before any Longhorns were taken, no less. I'll never understand why Big Ten country treats punters like a lubed Susan Sarandon, but I salute their comic genius. GRADE: Alf.
The yinzers never pipe down about their Super Bowls and "class". That class got them a nice beating from a half-drunk Switzy in Super Bowl XXX (XXX! HA!). Vanessa Williams and Diana Ross were the entertainment that evening. Such talents. Such grace! Let's just say Switzy had them singin' their highest notes back in the green room. NFL Films wanted none of that footage. Prudes. GRADE: rusty belt and rusty trombone.
I've always believed that the world would be a better place with more Daniel Snyders. This draft lacks the sizzle I generally look for in my life's affairs, but drafting a mule kicker out of my native Arkansas was an appreciated gesture. GRADE: baker's dozen of small pox blankets.
Speaking of lacking sizzle... This reads like a guest list for a Princeton bachelor party. If sipping merlot and analyzing bonds is your thing, you have no business at the helm of the Dallas fucking Cowboys. JJ needs a weekend with me in Reno to clear his head. GRADE: ZZZZ-
New York Jets
Continuously sucking ass has its perks - like getting 12 picks in one draft. Sooners ain't what they used to be under CPA Stoops, but good for Jalen Saunders on making it to the Big Apple. Ask for Barry's Room at Rick's Cabaret if you're ever feeling down. Sometimes a porterhouse and some adult Twister is just what the doc ordered. GRADE: Angus.
I can't support taking Alabama players early in the draft. Those fellas have more tread on the tires than a Broken Arrow whore. Bravo, Saban. GRADE: syphilis.
Back in the day, the Canes' coaches and I used to crack wise about having higher payrolls than the Dolphins. What an adorable mess of ineptitude ever since Marino showed up. I'm tired of bullies being vilified in this nanny state. I like Rich Incognito's intangibles. Say, Rich, come on over to Bar's and we'll shoot the breeze over a handle of Four Roses. Bring the baseball bats. GRADE: A plus booger sugar.
I had Logan Thomas No. 1 on my draft board. Reminded me of a bigger Charles Thompson. I've grown a fondness for the Cardinals over the years. How could I not? I spend a lot of time with the Fiesta Bowl leaders. GRADE: BOOMER.
Green Bay Packers
Oh man the jokes I could get with a guy named Ha Ha Clinton-Dix on my roster. It even has my buddy Billy Clinton's surname in there! Next to DIX. GRADE: Judy Dench on double Valium.
I don't much care for Chip Kelly's rep as an offensive savant. Yawns. Invent the wishbone and average almost 500 yards per game on the ground and then we'll chat. He took a couple Oregon Ducks showing that nepotism is still business's Achilles. GRADE: Lee Corso on double Valium.
Kansas City Chiefs
My squeaky clean character will not allow me to give a passing grade to a franchise that selects a Canadian named Laurent. Deplorable. This is Toby Keith's America and we'll put a boot in yer ass, LAURENT. GRADE: F minus.
Congrats to AJ McCarron. Haven't seen a meltdown like that since one of my ex-wives got loose on some shine. Cincinatti isn't a bad place if you prefer all the worst parts of the South with everything we hate about the North. Plus, you get race riots and Ohio. GRADE: #blessed.
San Diego Chargers
Been pretty steamed at these holier-than-thou jokers ever since Phil Rivers said he'd "pray for me" when he saw me in the Honolulu Airport bar. Sure, I was a little overserved and missing pants, but you don't patronize the Barry like that. GRADE: Sally Field but uglier.
There's making lemonade out of lemons and there's making Indy fun the way Jim Irsay does. Get off his back. Pretty forgettable draft, but how's a guy to focus under the watch of some hot, born again rehab counselors? GRADE: molly.
New Orleans Saints
Nice pick with Vinnie Sunseri. Never met a Vinnie that didn't crave a good bounty. GRADE: two corndogs.
Sure would be nice if the governor would give Rae Carruth a pardon for Cam Newton's sake. He sure as shit needs it. The Panthers addressed zero needs with a bunch of nobody's. Reminiscent of the Huskers sans promisekeeper Tom Osborne. GRADE: Bill Callahan.
New England Patriots
I don't know how those drunk Micks in Southie are going to take to a fella named Garoppolo as quarterback. That's just bad business. Boston folk are just so tolerant. GRADE: still racist.
San Francisco 49ers
Coaching is stressful - particularly around the draft. Harbaugh is going to have a heart attack if he doesn't take advantage of the Oriental massage parlors at his disposal in the Bay Area. Wellness is crucial, gang. The Niners had twelve draft picks and addressed needs all over the field. GRADE: happy endings.
When infusing a team with narcotics, always stick to stimulants. This Mary Jane business in Colorado is concerning. I don't need a bunch of lazy Bob Marleys on my team and that's what the Broncos drafted. If I'm John Fox, I dial up my coke hookup STAT and get to the film room. GRADE: too Nate Newton-ey.
Remember who was a coaching god in the '90's and who was dogshit? Get off Pete Carroll's testes. Beating a Manning is nothing original. GRADE: BOOMER COWBOYS.