At the grocery store yesterday, the conversation between the two checkout girls turned to football. One young woman was thrilled by the 34-3 steamrolling of the dread pirate Raiders by the Saints and asked why the Saints couldn’t have done the same last weekend against the Vikings. “It was all the kicker’s fault,” her colleague squealed.
“Poor Gramatica,” I said to D. “Nah, he sucked. Besides, the current kicker is a Badger,” came the reply.
The woman ahead of us in line turned around and stated, “Gramatica tried to hang himself after last week’s game, you know.”
“What?!” I exclaimed, almost dropping my purse.
“Yeah,” the woman went on, “but the suicide attempt failed when he couldn’t kick the chair out from under him.”
That’s awful, folks.
Poor Grammatica indeed. My husband and I feel so badly for him. And he really shows his despair on his face in the shots of him right after a miss. I can’t imagine how he feels, but jokes like this are outrageous and just plain mean. I don’t know how you kept your tongue.
And they say Packer fans were fickle and mean to Bret when he left.