Okay, Gerald, I’ve heard about as much out of you as I can take. All I get from you lately is eye-rolling and swaggering, like you’re too good for the mere mortals of Mercury Insurance.You act like you’re doing us a favor just showing up. Who do you think you are—former New Orleans Saints linebacker Pat Swilling?
Judging by your attitude alone, I’d say you were a 6’3″, 250-pound linebacker out of Georgia Tech. Seriously, if I didn’t know better, I’d think the Saints took you in the third round of the 1986 draft because they knew you’d improve their pass rush on the outside and complement little big man Sam Mills. Not so fast, touchdown. I do know better.
You sashay around the place like you’re third on the New Orleans all-time sack list with 78. If someone says something you disagree with, you act for all the world like you averaged 11.5 sacks a year from 1987 to 1993. “What, me? I’m just Pat Swilling, 1989 NFL Defensive Player of the Year. I once held Georgia Tech’s record for career sacks with 23.” That’s you.
Listen to me, Gerald. I’m not the only one who’s had it with your Pat Swilling bullshit. People are talking—you know how many people want to work with someone who acts like he’s a record-holder for career sacks? Zero.
Do you think posting above-average sales numbers for two months means you are a versatile, savvy defensive player with excellent lateral motion? It’s a rhetorical question, Swilling—you don’t need to answer it. I feel like I’m talking to someone whose football instincts let him perform effectively as both a linebacker and a defensive end, here. Jesus. You are not former New Orleans Saints linebacker Pat Swilling, and it’s high time you stopped leaning back in your chair and twirling your pen around during the Friday wrap-up meeting.
You’re valuable here at Mercury, but not so valuable that, say, we couldn’t trade you to the Detroit Lions in 1993 for first- and fourth-round picks. You can treat your friends like you went to five straight Pro Bowls, but the second you come in here, to my department, to my office, you’d better wipe that “an impressive five Pro Bowls in a row” look off your face. Do you understand me? I won’t take this linebacker attitude any longer. Is that clear?
Because right now, I don’t see a guy who understands. I don’t see a guy who says, “I want to get along.” I see a guy who says, “I’m one of three New Orleans players who achieved four sacks in one game.” This is you: “Even toward the end of my career, I still had six sacks in a 20-tackle season!”
I’m not getting through to you at all, am I? This is all going in one ear and out the other. Even now, you’re treating this whole thing like you’re going to retire from football after the 1998 season, run for the Louisiana House of Representatives as a popular Democrat, and win the seat by a wide margin.
Fine. Be that way, Mr. 14th on the all-time quarterback sack list. Just don’t do it in my office. Get out, and don’t come back until you can act a little more like former Buffalo Bills defensive end Bryce Paup.
