Happy Monday, Mobsters. Major oxymoron, that. Today, we discuss Joe Mixon’s existence in the Bengals offense, the burgeoning PJ Walker Era, our worrisome lack of empathy and tunes that define bands. A paid subscription gets you the full conversation and a Norm Peterson-like standing in our little virtual sports bar. (Lookimup, kids.) Eight bucks a month ain’t nothin’ but a grande (grahn-day) and a half.
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Tell me who Antowain Smith is, win fabulous prizes chosen just for you.
Stumped, Mobsters?
How ‘bout Jonas Gray? Anybody? (Hint: He was not a boy-band superstar who played a bit part in Taylor Swift’s new movie.)
Ricky Patton, anyone? His middle name is Riccardo. Ricky Riccardo Patton. A chuckle for youse OGs out there, but he didn’t play bongos or sing Babalu.
The real Ricky Ricardo.
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You have two last chances to redeem yourselves and your worthless and weak lack of pro football knowledge: Who was Sony Michel? He was not (1) the sole heir to an entertainment conglomerate or (2) Paul McCartney’s French girlfriend.
LeGarrette Blount? The legendary LeGarrette Blount? Never to be forgotten, except by everybody. Who he?
Maybe this will help. Ricky Riccardo Patton shares some history with Corey Dillon and some guy named Brady. All the young dudes aforementioned are members of a privileged club.
They all led the New England Patriots in rushing, in years the Pats won the Super Bowl. (All except Patton. He was San Francisco’s leading ballcarrier the year the 49ers beat The Men in the ‘81 Bowl. He gained 543 yards in 16 reg-season games, averaging 3.5 yards a carry. Wow.)
Two Bowls ago, the LA Rams beat the Bengals with the 2nd-worst running numbers in Super history: Twenty-three carries, 43 yards.
Is there a point to any of this, Doc?
Why yes, there is.
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