Kirk Cousins on Vikings Offensive Line: “If I Die, I Die”

Minnesota quarterback reflects on team's pass protection ahead of NFL Draft

By Isaac Huss

MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA -- Tomorrow is the NFL Draft, and Kirk Cousins knows what’s at stake. He also knows his Minnesota Vikings’ front office has a thing for drafting defensive backs early and often. And often at the expense of his porous offensive line.

“Listen, if I die, I die,” Cousins said, while taking a break from practicing his next big gender reveal [his wife isn’t pregnant, he just wasn’t satisfied with his accuracy on the last one]. “I’m at peace about that. I know my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, and I have a close, personal relationship with Dakota Dozier. If Coach Zimmer wants to draft d-backs with all ten picks tomorrow -- and he might -- well, at least I know there’ll be a big house waiting for me in the sky.”

Minnesota’s offensive line unit, while excelling in opening holes in the run game for tailback Dalvin Cook, has struggled blocking for Cousins on pass plays since he arrived three years ago. The Vikings have since cut perhaps their best player in the group, left tackle Riley Rieff, in a cost-saving measure, and retained Dozier, one of the worst pass blockers in the league a year ago. Cousins seems unfazed.

“Survival of the fittest, I always say -- and if you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty darn fit,” Kirk said, which has been fact-checked as “True” by his wife (Snopes has rated it Somewhat True). “I want to respect what other people's concerns are. I know my mom had been tweeting at Zim from her burner account, ‘TonkaLoveBoat69,’ all offseason to trade for Orlando Brown. Not me. I'm gonna let nature do its course. And just to say, if Aaron Donald knocks me out, he knocks me out. I'm going to be OK. I think.”

Cousins was then asked, on a scale of 1-10, how worried he was about the Vikings taking a QB in the first round to replace him -- not unlike the Packers did last year with Jordan Love -- with one being Patrick Mahomes and ten being Jimmy Garoppalo. Cousins responded, "I'm not gonna call anybody stupid, for the trouble it would get me in. But I'm about a .000001. It’s not like there’s a Christian Ponder in this draft, am I right?”

Any great player who's gonna come in and work! Who are you all thinking? Reply @Verizon with #NFLDraft #VerizonPartner https://t.co/7KIMWrFkBa

— Kirk Cousins (@KirkCousins8) April 29, 2021

He went on to say: "But seriously, I have peace. I don't believe that I control the outcome of my life. Why do you think I got a fully-guaranteed contract? Other than the Vikings being weirdly desperate for a slightly above-average QB. Oh and the fact that I used the Jets as leverage to drive up the price. Good times. But I digress…”

“It’s because there's many things out of my control. I trust the Lord to handle things. If something happens, I trust him to have a plan and purpose. So if Rick (Spielman, the Vikings’ GM) wants to draft an edge rusher named “Kwity” or a cornerback named “Lousy” or a linebacker named “B1G” or a quarterback named “Mac” or heck if he wants to trade all his picks for 500 7th rounders next year, I’ll be at peace. Actually, Rick, please don’t pick Mac. Have you not seen him with his shirt off? He’d destroy our vibe.”

Kirk then returned to gender reveal practice, proceeded to drop back and toss his mini exploding football into a phone booth fifty yards away, do some undistinguishable dance (definitely not the griddy? we think?), and scream “YOU LIKE THAT! YOU LIKE THAT!” at his smokin’ hot wife.

A Love Letter

Dear Kevin,

I didn’t sleep much last night, and, well, you’ve been on my mind a lot lately.  So perhaps telling you how I feel, or at least putting these feelings into words, will help me to rest a little bit easier.

It’s been a tough couple of months, to be honest.  Since it became clear back in May that you wanted to leave, I’ve gone through what seems to be the usual string of emotions.  First, denial: I didn’t believe it was true, didn’t want to believe it.  Then, anger.  Then, sadness and resignation.  And now, well, I just feel numb.

It didn’t help when you visited Boston.  I guess I never thought about what it’d be like to see you with someone else.  But there you were, hanging with Rajon Rondo, Rob Gronkowski, and who knows who else.  Let me tell you, Kevin, it hurt.  There’s just no way around it.

I’ll never forget the day you came into my life.  Sure, I’d known about you, known that you were a high school phenom in Oregon and a star freshman at UCLA.  But it wasn’t until June 27, 2008, my 23rd birthday, when Kevin McHale traded for you and our lives really began together.  You were the best birthday present a guy could ask for, really.

I admit, I wasn’t convinced, at least initially.  I really wanted Derrick Rose or Mike Beasley, but O.J. Mayo was a stud himself, and #3 was the highest we’ve ever picked, and we needed a stud.  I wasn’t sure he was worth giving up for you, but hey, we got Mike Miller out of the deal and got rid of Marko Jaric, so I was in (even if it meant Marko’s gf wouldn’t be around).

But you eventually won me over, first with your efforts on the boards and then your outside shooting.  That night when you grabbed 30 rebounds to go along with 30 points, the Target Center was a different place.  There was an energy that had not been enjoyed since the days of that other Kevin.  For a little while there, you made us forget about the other Kevin.  I really mean that.

When a man fills up the boxscore to historic proportions, night after night, when he plays a key role on an Olympic Gold Medal team (defensively, even!), when all inclinations are that he’ll sign a long term contract where nobody wants to sign a long-term contract, it’s hard not to fall in Love.

And I did, Kevin, I fell for you.  Hard.  And that’s what makes this hurt so bad.

And since we’re being honest, it was Love that made me overlook your imperfections.  The lackluster effort on defense.  The complete unwillingness to foul somebody.  The multiple possessions a game where you didn’t bother to cross half court to join your team on defense.  The curious habit of the best rebounder in the game excusing himself from offensive rebound opportunities on opponents’ free throws, in order to get to the other end of the court without having to… jog?

Not to mention your complete unwillingness to pass up a somewhat uncontested jump shot to pass to a more-open teammate.  More forgivable, given that none of your teammates could hit a jump shot, even a more-open one.  But still.

No, I knew you weren’t perfect.  And sure, there was a sneaking feeling that you were a player capable of incredible stats yet incapable of helping his team finish in the top 16 out of 30 teams.  But you were a Timberwolf, and I loved you for it.

But I started getting worried when you complained about the $60+ million contract you signed in January 2012, almost as soon as you signed it.  I get it, you wanted a fifth year.  But it seems like an either-or proposition to me.  As in, either you sign a contract with the team and pledge your allegiance to it, or you don’t, and then you can talk all the shit you want.

Instead, you signed the contract, then explained how you would play with a chip on your shoulder, a phrase typically referring to proving enemies wrong, not your employer.  That following December, you curiously decided to air out your dirty laundry to Yahoo! Sports about the contract negotiation, team roster moves, and even your hurt feelings when people in the organization supposedly didn’t buy that your broken hand came from those now-infamous knuckle push-ups.

Let me let you in on a little secret, Kevin: nobody buys that your broken hand came from knuckle push-ups.  And yeah, we were pissed.  But we got over it.  And, believe it or not, we could get over this.

What’s “this” you say?  Let me be clear: I don’t want you here against your will.  If you do indeed walk out that door and out of my life forever, it would hurt.  But I can’t make you Love me, if you don’t.  Just show some respect along the way, bro.  This organization traded a top-3 pick for you (Mayo), traded away an all-star caliber player (Al Jefferson) to put you in the driver seat, paid you over $43 million, and would be happy to pay you the rest of the $31+ mil left on your contract, and then some.

The “this” that I’m talking about, that we could get over, is you dissing us, the fans! NBA basketball is a business, yadda yadda yadda, and the Timberwolves aren’t going to have anybody feel sorry for them.  But we fans have had your back for the past six years.  And it’s our hard-earned cash that ultimately pays your contract.

So far, you seem to have forgotten about us.  In an interview in LA last month, you said, “In six years I haven't been in the playoffs, and I think it's time for people to be watching me.”  Hey, Kevin, what are we, chopped liver?  We’ve been watching you for six years.  Cheering for you, even.  And yeah, we noticed you haven’t made the playoffs.

We’ve had to endure you talking about the Timberwolves as “they” and you fielding questions about how desirable such locations as New York and Cleveland (!) would be for you.  How was your trip to Boston, Kevin?  I hear Big Papi was offering advice on making the move there from Minny.  Maybe he can help you find some steroids too???  (I’m sorry, Papi, I didn’t mean that, honest.  This is just a tough time for me.  You know, with Kevin and everything…)

On SportsNation, you said that you received some advice.  And if that advice was for you to get out of Minnesota, I can’t find any fault in that.  It’s a free country, there’s probably more endorsement money to be made elsewhere, and there are definitely better teams out there.  And then there’s the winter…

But at what cost?  Was that advice to weasel your way out of your contract a year early, abandon your teammates and insult them on the way out, and all the while seem completely oblivious to the big “f--- you” you’re giving to your loyal and supportive fanbase?  I sure hope not.  If it was, you need to find somebody else from whom to take advice.

Eff yous notwithstanding, I still care about you, Kevin, so I’m going to offer you some free advice of my own.  Look yourself in the mirror and remind yourself that you signed a contract with the Minnesota Timberwolves, and by extension, their fans.  Request a trade, sure.  And if you have beefs with the organization, then by all means, take it up with them.

But here’s an idea: play out your contract!  Put in your work without being a complete baby about it.  Leave it up to the team as to whether they want to risk losing you in free agency.  The Wolves will likely be better this year, and guess what, they’ll pay you over $15 million bucks either way.

If not?  You do still owe something to the fans, and we’re not asking for much.  If you’re sick of losing and missing the playoffs, you don’t think that’s going to change, and you want to play somewhere else?  Fine.  We get it.  We’re sick of the losing, too, and can’t quite blame you.  Just don’t play the martyr.  As Flip put it best, “you’re either part of the problem, or part of the solution.”  And as Marcellus Wiley was fair to point out, don’t hide behind your agent.  You make the decisions, so stand behind them.

And do yourself a favor.  If you do end up with a new team, play some defense.  Don’t take plays off.  Work on your body language, and consider the team to be greater than yourself.

And, hey, did you hear about our new draft pick?  He went to UCLA and Flip calls him the best athlete in the draft, even if he is a bit of a project…  Oh, never mind.

But one last thing: if you ever run into Stephon, have him call me?

Tim Tebow: Redefining the Dream

Like many young boys who grew watching professional sports, I dreamed of being a professional athlete. It seemed like the ultimate profession: not only could I play a game all day, I could get paid for it, and paid a lot for that matter, and if that wasn’t enough, I would be a celebrity, and I would be famous, and women would be screaming for my attention, and I would use my celebrity to help save the whales. My dream had it all: fun, fame, fortune, and females. What more could you possibly want?

Well, someone ought to tell Tim Tebow about what being a celebrity athlete is really all about. Apparently, he has made it to the top of the college football world without tapping into its bag of goodies that comes with sports superstardom. Here he is, in his fourth year of playing quarterback for the Florida Gators, two National Championships and a Heisman Trophy later, and he doesn’t seem to get it. Doesn’t he know he could be making millions in the NFL by now? In fact, he could have left the college ranks after his sophomore year and still would have gone down in history as one of the best college players of all time. Instead, he now is recovering from a concussion he sustained September 27 against the University of Kentucky.

Of course, everyone expects Tebow to bounce back from the injury with no ill effects, because up until this point, anyone who has ever been impressed by his success has ceased being surprised. Heck, even his birth was miraculous: according to his parents, “Timmy” should have died no less than four times before he was born because of a deadly illness his mother contracted on a missionary trip to the Philippines. Yes, his parents are missionaries. And yes, perhaps the greatest college quarterback ever is also a well-seasoned missionary himself, taking time every off-season to travel abroad to spread the Good News. And perform circumcisions. I’m not making this up.

Clearly, nothing holds Tim Tebow back. And yet, he has become an icon of restraint in the last year, beginning with his decision to return for his senior year of football, risking, or at least delaying, a pro career promising all of the spoils that every young boy dreams about at night. And yet perhaps his greatest feat of restraint is in a different arena: sex.

Back in July, as Tebow fielded questions at a preseason press conference, a reporter asked him if he, you know, was saving himself for marriage. His response was a lighthearted chuckle and a genuine smile, accompanied by nervous, yet slightly amused laughter from the other reporters in the room. The answer, of course, was “yes I am”, and the whole sports world stopped turning for a moment. Not necessarily because it was surprised, as the guy wrote “John 3:16” on his eye black during the national championship game in January. But the fact that the information was undeniably public now was enough to give pause to sports fans everywhere as they tried to make sense of such a thing.

Think about it: the guy is undeniably good looking, funny, charming, articulate, built like a horse, plays the hardest position in sports better than maybe anyone ever at the college level, is set to make millions the moment he takes his talent to the NFL, not to mention he is doing all of this at the University of Florida, which does not lack for eligible mega-babes, and he’s saving himself for marriage? It honestly is mind-blowing, most especially for a world who would be asking not one question, but two in response: Why?! How?!

The unbelievable nature of the story is only multiplied when you consider the modern culture in college football. It has become a relatively common occurrence for recruits who are visiting a campus to be treated to certain “local ladies” as a sort of foretaste of what life would be like as a member of the team. Sex is a foregone conclusion on college campuses today, and most especially for football players, who are the most eligible bachelors on campus, and many times are particularly sought out by groupies hoping to get close to a star. And so many times players are all too happy to oblige.

Not Timmy. He claims that football is fourth on his list, behind faith, family, and school, in that order (notice: premarital sex is not a priority). And when he says things like that, you almost expect him to say, “ha ha, just kidding,” not because he doesn’t sound sincere, but because he does. He doesn’t sound like a preacher, or an extremist, or even slightly annoyed when faced with cynicism. In fact, he seems to relish the opportunity just to share his faith:

“You know, there's a lot of leaders out there. But, unfortunately, there aren't a lot of good ones. So that's always been my dream and my goal...to be someone that a parent can say, 'Hey, this kid did it the right way.' That's always been my dream and my goal more so than winning a trophy or winning a championship.”

Sounds like he’s just living his dream.