His Death is Greatly Exaggerated

Can we please allow Jake Browning to write his own epitaph?

Sorry, Jake, for burying you.

You had your Andy Warhol segment, which is more than Ryan Leaf got, but you must be going. After three great games, we wanted you made king, or at least first in line for the local papacy, behind Saint Joseph. After one bad game, you’re a pigeon in St. Peter’s Square.

The NFL is Knee Jerk Central, we know. And we are in the Era of the Disposable Quarterback. But busting a man from pope to pigeon in one week is a little harsh. Have a beer on us, Jake Browning. Take Tommy Cutlets with you. Josh Dobbs is at the table in the corner. Thank you for what you’ve done.

You were the first NFL QB ever to throw for more than 1,000 yards and complete 75 percent of your throws in your first four starts. Congrats. Here’s your clipboard and your baseball cap.

Jerry Glanville, Houston Oilers head coach and Sam Wyche’s good buddy, once said “NFL’’ stood for Not For Long. He didn’t know the half of it.

Howevuh. . .

What if Jake Browning plays in Burrowhead Sunday the way he played against Jacksonville three-plus weeks ago?