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An Open Letter To Rob Ryan, By Jeaux Sportsbreaux

An Open Letter to Rob Ryan

By: Jeaux Sportsbreaux

 Dear Rob,

My name’s Jeaux Sportsbreaux and I’m a Saints fan. Now that we’ve got formalities aside, I think it’s time we both talk about the elephant in the room—our relationship. I’m feeling pretty conflicted, so hear me out.

I must admit, when I saw you confidently stride out to the sideline before the first preseason game, I was awestruck. You should also be aware that it took me a while to settle on the verb “stride.” What you do is definitely more than walking. It’s some cross between how Sasquatch looks when captured on film and the way the Bushwackers walked to the wrestling ring. When you exploded out of the tunnel looking like Santa Claus’s pothead younger brother, my heart fluttered. (P.S. Why did you look so angry? I was nervous you were going to uppercut a child. It’s preseason game #1, not the beaches of Normandy.)

But, I wasn’t always so smitten. Indeed, as recently as one second before you were hired by the Saints, I despised you. First, you worked for the Cowboys. And, as a Saints fan (like anyone who is not a Cowboys fan), I despise the Cowboys. So, as I listened to announcers heap praise on a completely mediocre Cowboy team, simply because they were the Dallas Cowboys, the camera would cut over to you. Generally, you were in the middle of launching into some profanity-laced tirade that would make a pirate giggle. Your luscious mane would be flying about. (Did they place a fan directly in front of you—like a Michael Jackson music video?) But, nevertheless, you were a Cowboy and that does not sit well with Saints fans.

Photo by Bob Levey/Getty Images

Second, your physical appearance . . . leaves something to be desired. Look, I don’t need my coach to look like Jim Harbaugh or Mike Nolan. But, there must be some happy medium between a chisel jawed football coach and a guy who looks like a Capital One Viking that ate three other Capital One Vikings. At one point, I was convinced that Jerry Jones found you in a block of ice when he was constructing Cowboy Stadium and thawed you out a la Brennan Frasier in Encino Man. Weeze the Juice!!!!!!!!

Third, your Rex Ryan’s brother and I haven’t ruled out the fact that some crazy fetish tape may leak out before a big divisional game. Like when you should be preparing to stop Stephen Jackson, you have to go to a press conference to explain a leaked YouTube video that features you, a lucky dog vendor, a Saints foam finger, and Tom Dempsey’s small foot.

But, now we’re together. And, the important thing is that we figure things out moving forward. On my end, I promise to be a huge fan of you and your defense. I’m excited for improvement. Although, I guess it’s pretty easy to be excited after Spags. Come to think of it, what did we expect hiring a guy named Spags? That sounds like the nickname of a guy constantly being crammed into lockers. What if Val Kilmer’s nickname would have been “Spags” in Top Gun? It sounds like what you would call gagging on your own spit. “Whoa! Are you OK man, what happened?” “No dude, I’m cool. I just spagged.”

On your end, put a defense on the field that allows us to win when the offense is not performing at video game-like levels. If you do that, I’ll be willing to overlook the Cowboys thing and your physical appearance. Heck, maybe I’ll even be in the leaked YouTube video.

Sincerely,

Jeaux Sportsbreaux

P.S. I read in an article recently that you used to have a van. I hope that’s still not true. With your appearance, if you drive a van, you might as well buy some wine coolers and hang out with Chris Hansen.

Babes

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