This Week In America’s Worst Jobs

3 01 2013


Sup Andy?

Listen, most of you are probably thinking I’m about to go off on how being the new coach of the Kansas City Chiefs is the worst job of all time. How I’m going to babble about how Andy’s entering a living nightmare in KC and that chances are after a couple abysmal seasons, he’ll probably acquire a heroin addiction like his son (way too soon?). Well relax Stratman n co, I’m not. Surprisingly, I actually think the Big Walrus can turn KC’s ship around. I’d rather have Andy as the captain of my ship than any of the other head coaches who were fired this season. Not trying to have Norvington Turner Overdrive and his crater skin lead my team to an awesome regular season and then get totally rocked the minute we step foot in the playoffs. At least Andy has proven he can win in the post season. Maybe not the big game, but he can win.

No, this weeks worst job is being an NFL coach on the hot seat. And what’s ridiculous is the night and day contrast regarding how good your life is between being a good coach and a bad one. When things are good, things are fucking GOOD. But when things are anything from bad to even just okay, things are fucking AWFUL. If you’re a great NFL coach of a perennial powerhouse team (see: Bill Belichick) things are all gravy. Money, bitches, winning, championships, fame, yachts, all on the reg. You name it you got it. But if you aren’t one of those coaches, life sucks. Job security is as low as you can possibly imagine. You could literally wake up one morning and you’re jobless. You didn’t even do anything. In fact often times, you did absolutely nothing. Didn’t tell Rhonda in HR she’s got a nice caboose at the company christmas party, didn’t steal TP for your apartment from the handicap stall, didn’t even fudge up some numbers on the Vincent account invoice. Just spent 180 hours a week pouring your heart and soul into coaching a 52 man roster of overly aggressive, under educated man-beasts in the most popular and violent sport in America.

And when I say coach on the hot seat, I mean anything from the hottest of seats, like picture a seat made of flaming lava, to a seat that’s just slightly above room temperature. Look at Tom Coughlin. The Giants won last year’s Super Bowl. Four games before the end of the season, a season, remember, in which they fucking won the Super Bowl, every person in NY wanted to slice TC’s sac off. They lost a couple games and had a slight chance to miss the playoffs. Let’s murder him and burn down his house! His seat might as well been made of a flaming hot cheetos factory after a gas explosion. On the other hand, Lovie Smith, who I’ve always said is a garbage coach, led the Bears to a 10-6 record this year. His seat was barely warm enough to heat up his buns. If Blair Walsh misses the field goal against GB last Sunday and the Packers win, he’s safe. Well Blair didn’t and dude’s ass was fired quicker than my buddy J Bone when he took a wiz in the slushie machine at Quik Trip.

But JD, that’s the risk they take when they decide to dedicate their life to being an NFL coach. True. I’ll give you that. You make a valid argument. But here’s my thing. It’s a league of 32 teams. 12 teams make the playoffs. That means 20 don’t.. Let’s say the 12 coaches who make the ‘offs are usually safe from getting axed. That means 20 coaches, or 62.5% of the NFL’s coaches are at risk of getting shit canned each fucking season. Yeah, I’m good at math and I’m not Asian. Big deal. The point is, coaches could be donezo just because of math. Every team can’t win. Even my mom knows that. But I’ll quit boring you with numbo crunches and various calculations and what not.

To make matters even worse, when a coach is on the hot seat he’s gotta answer even MORE questions from the media and fans. It’s like if you were a delivery man and you lost a couple packages, maybe rear ended an old lady with your company issued truck. Instead of hearing it from your boss and maybe a few wise-cracking coworkers, the entire planet is on your jock demanding answers. Why didn’t the Jackson family get the crock pot they ordered on Amazon? How come sweet old Mrs. Stevenson’s spine shattered in four places because you couldn’t open your bag of Chik-Fil-A on an exit ramp? On and on it goes. And instead of giving honest answers and telling everyone to fuck off, you have to maintain your composure and represent the integrity of a major sports franchise with every answer you give.

Bottom line is, I criticize a lot of NFL coaches for being douches. But when you step back and think about it, they’re all douches because unless they just won the ‘ship everyone on their teams fan base probably hates them and they could lose their job at any second. So fuck being an NFL coach. Sounds like hell on earth.


– JD




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