My Lions were 0-3. The Bears were 1-2, and not very good. This seemed like a great chance for new Lions head coach Dan Campbell to notch his first win.
I thought to myself: let’s go big! All-new lineup! Sit the vets, start a rookie, and let’s throw in a free agent signing as well!
A new hat. Untested pajama pants. And since my Lions shirts keep losing, I thought I’d go with a free agent signing — an Ionath Krakens shirt. The result? Same as before
PIMPIN’ AIN’T EASY, BUT STATISTICS IS
Listen, all y’all who want to bitch to me about how hard statistics is? Become a Lions fan, then it’s easy. If the only number you can track is “zero,” math is a fucking piece of cake. Every hat, shirt, pup collar, pair of pants (or lack thereof in some categories) has produced zero wins.
The Lions are 0-4, and in the few instances where they look competitive, they find very Lion-like ways to lose. Every piece of clothing has a win percentage of 0.00%.
WEEK FOUR LINEUP
• Hat: Lions Carhartt (0-1)
• Shirt: Krakens Championship (0-1)
• Pup Collar: none (0-2)
• Pants: Lions PJs (0-1)
The hat was an unexpected gift. It arrived Tuesday, I think, and I thought to myself: this is divine intervention! A new player in the lineup! You know that basic angle that if God created everything he also created the bad things? As in, God created COVID? And God created hot dog buns that are simultaneously stale and soggy? Well, that’s the style of divine intervention the Big Guy wove into my new hat. Because it didn’t do jack. So far, my new Lions hat is a big simultaneously soggy and stale batch of gridiron-COVID.
For the shirt, I thought I’d get crafty and pick a winning team. No, asshole Packers fans and even more assholish Cowboys fans and don’t even get me started on Niners fans, I’m not talking about your squads, I’m talking about the Ionath Krakens. They got wins galore. Yes, I bailed on my existing roster and went with a winner, albeit not in the NFL. This was a scientific gamble akin to putting a rocket in a cow’s butt, then feeding that cow eight cans of Bean & Bacon soup, and gambling the cow’s flatulence will put said rocket into orbit. Turns out this wild hypothesis did not produce enough observable data to move to the theory phase. But I might have to try again, because nothing else is working.
I went with no pup collar for the second week in a row, and lost there as well. So next week, the cycle begins again.
I tried my only pair of Lions pants this week. The result? Similar to the cow eating eight cans of Bean & Bacon, only instead of the cow, it’s me, and I’m stuck on the I-405 in rush hour after a turnip truck overturned and blocked three lanes and we ain’t going nowhere.*
WEEK FIVE PROSPECTS
Right now, we’re a goddamn disgrace. I have no choice but to bust out a member of the team that hasn’t seen action yet — my Lions socks. And I might as well bring back my favorite Black Lions Modern shirt, because why the hell not? The worst thing that can happen is that statistics continues to be very, very easy.
* That means I shit my pants. My Lions pants. I shit my Lions pants. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Except when we were down 14-0 and could have kicked a field goal and went for it and wound up with zero points, which had significant relevance at the end of the game when we were down 10, because being down one score is better than being down two scores, and that point it’s possibly a literally shat my pants a tiny bit.