DATELINE: Inmates Running the NFL
The delusional life of Roger Goodell continues to astound us. The NFL Commissioner is a certifiable nutcase.
Stopped after an owners’ meeting, he responded to media questions about Deflategate like a man who never read a court transcript in his life.
He has no regrets, apparently ready to sing “La Vie en Rose” like he is Edith Piaf.
He speaks of Tom Brady, future Hall of Famer, as if Goodell has cast himself as Pat Garrett, ready to gun down Tom Brady as Billy the Kid. Quien es? There will be more shots in the dark from Mr. Commissioner until he plugs someone coming back from the bathroom.
You’d think he had just nailed Oscar Pistorius—or is that Oscar Wilde? He believes Brady needs to have some justice applied to his backside, sort of like a “somdomiste,” in the words of the Marquis of Queensbury.
Goodell is living in a world that the rest of us would call part of string theory. He has made a quantum leap into another universe while keeping his day job. If Goodell has his way, he will string up Tom Brady like the innocent men of The Ox Bow Incident.
Police inspector Javert and his gendarmes chasing Jean Valjean in Les Miserables have nothing on the obsessions of Roger Goodell. You could write a musical about it if Victor Hugo were around to revise the novel.
Goodell grew up watching Jack Webb play Sgt. Joe Friday. And, now he thinks he is Top Cop wearing the shield. His game is not to change the names to protect the innocent. He wants to prosecute the innocent.