Game Time: A Follow-Up E-mail To Brian Cushing

Brian Cushing and Elton John: Soulmates

Let me get right down to business. I am actually sending this e-mail as a follow-up to my open letter to you on Monday of this week, and frankly, I'm kicking myself that I actually sent you an open letter. I mean, who the hell sends letters anymore? Here we are in a crisis, and I'm counting on the postal service to get you my words of support, my sage advice, my amazingly awesome "I'm smarter than everyone" radio guy instructions on how to handle adversity in a timely fashion?

Judging by yesterday's "performance," you clearly didn't get my letter (or you're like me and you check your mail once every ten days because it's a depressing pile of bills, advertising circulars, and reminders for court dates). My bad, man. My bad. I am truly sorry, and it won't happen again.

You see, Brian? Apologizing isn't that hard. Despite the smooth stylings of Peter Cetera bringing forth evidence to the contrary, it really isn't hard for you to say you're sorry.

I'm going to send this e-mail with the assumption that you just didn't get my letter. I'm going to assume you didn't just ignore my assertions that people HATE being lied to and that "this too shall pass." In fact, I'm even going to cater to you a little bit. Like most Texans fans, I saw the press conference yesterday. At the outset, you requested the following:

Whatever you choose to write about me, please do write that I'm very proud to be a linebacker of the Houston Texans, very honored to be the Associated Press Defensive Rookie of the Year, and very anxious to get on the Reliant field Oct. 10 against the New York Giants.

Hey folks, let me tell ya, Brian Cushing is proud to be playing linebacker for the Texans, he is totally honored to be the Associated Press Defensive Rookie of the Year, and GREAT GOOGLY MOOGLY is he anxious to go wreck shop on the Giants at Reliant on October 10!

See, Brian. I'm still your friend.

Now, as Silvio Dante would say, this is where the conversation, uncomfortable.

I saw you flat out deny intentionally taking any substance that would drive your hCG levels to the point that you would fail a random NFL drug test. I saw you get borderline snippy when someone asked you if you should forfeit the NFL Defensive Rookie of the Year Award (That "Why?" was a very underrated moment in that sham press conference, man.). Above all else, I saw you say that you assumed you were possibly playing the 2009 season with know, since hCG finds its way into one's system one of three ways -- intentionally injecting/ingesting it for "whatever reason", pregnancy, and testicular cancer.

A Pete Carroll Trojan, though and through
And since you're telling yourself you are not guilty of the first method and biologically excluded from the second one, naturally (is there anything "natural" about this story?) you deduced that you could possibly have cancer.

Personally, I know that I didn't ingest or inject anything, and the fact that my options were that I was either injecting or I had a tumor, as I was told by some sources, I played the whole season thinking I had tumors. So that's how I feel.

Forget the lack of follow-up questions from a media throng that was rushed through this ten-minute circle jerk of a press conference. Forget the ludicrousness of a meticulously programmed athletic specimen like yourself sitting around thinking that you might have tumors and not even dialing up an oncologist or discussing it with the team doctors.

Forget the Casey Hampton-sized mountain of medical data and educated opinion that completely refutes the possibility of even surviving a tumor that would generate the level of hCG you had in your body, let alone the possibility of making 134 tackles in sixteen National Football League games last year. The words "I played the whole season thinking I had tumors" were ridiculous the second they were uttered. The follow-up evidence from people know...actually work to help those with real tumors try and survive every day was just the slam-dunk confirmation we all knew was coming.

Forget all of that. The bottom line is you spit in the face of the one sentence that mattered in my letter to you earlier this week:

People don't like being made to feel like they were played.

When we all figured out why you became Joe Social Media over the last month with your radio/TV/web junket and "spontaneous" Tweet-ups, that it was a preemptive strike to make you appear to be the "persecuted everyman" when the suspension came down, it was a little insulting. But we can handle phony personalities. Hell, radio and TV are chock full of them, so is every line of work. We all sort of laughed at you after we figured out why your P.R. people were frantically emailing every media outlet in town to see if they'll talk to you. No big deal.

Insulting everyone's intelligence is another story altogether. People HATE that. Ask Roger Clemens. (You shouldn't have to wait in line behind many people to talk to him, a few government officials maybe, whenever they get around to that whole "perjury thing.") On a day where you should have just owned up to what many have suspected for years now -- that what we've seen has not exactly been "100% FDA-approved Cushing" -- you decided the best avenue was steadfast denial and the "tumor" card.

You chose poorly.

Lou Holtz always said "When things go wrong, the only friends you have in this world are those you eat with, sleep with, bleed with, pray with, and cry with. That's your family and your teammates." Your family and teammates have your back, this much we know. And that's good, because things are going decidedly wrong.

So what do we do, Cush? Can the wagons be circled? Your situation is eerily similar to that of Clemens, and he is in baseball-fan Alcatraz right about now. I can't help but feel like if you got my letter before Thursday, you might have thought about what the common folks think of entitled celebrity figures treating their intelligence like the bottom of a drug test urine cup . But that's beside the point now...what can we do to fix this? (Yeah, that's right, Cush..."we" and you. We're gonna fix this sumbitch.)

Let's assess. What do we have going for us here?

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