Ugh. I am finally back home after being in hell. Apparently the whole of eastern Washington state is on fire, and my car smells like smoke (no, not that kind. Not that kind either). I was displeased to see my beloved Raiders lost to to the vibrator-chargers. I guess the Condo broke, or was foreclosed on. Pick your metaphor of suck.



I read with pride and a smidgen of satisfaction that people hate Groggy Knapp. No one likes him, or his sluggish offense (no disrespect to slugs. You're much faster and far more exciting).



Though Knapp is not who I am hating right now. Actually, I was surprised that he did so well until something unfortunate happens, at which point he becomes more conservative than Rush Limbaugh on a Vicodin coma. No, I truly hate the man who is purportedly our special teams coach. Steve Hoffman, no relation to stud closer Trevor or BMX dude Matt. A sad thing, because if he were, he might have a minute strain of testicular fortitude to walk up to his boss and kindly request that someone be allowed to practice the art of the snap-to-the-punter-so-we-dont-fuck-ourselves-over thing.



When Condo went down, Travis Goethel was his replacement. Now being of (somewhat) sound mind, you would logically assume a center would take over. But it didn't happen, and things happen. Goethel was the backup. I get it. But what fails the sniff test is the fact that knowing Condo went down, probably with a concussion, that Hoffman neither asked DA to get him to practice longsnapping, helped him practice it, nor told DA that "Fuck you, his ass is gonna practice this until he can no longer stand."



I'm not saying Hoffman should be fired. He should be drawn and quartered, head on a pike on the Raider sideline as a warning to all those who dare think that coaching the best kicker/punter/longsnapper combo in the modern era is an excuse to not do your damn job.



On a lighter note, we can finally put this to bed and focus on the Dolphins. I will be fortunate enough to watch this (thank you bro) as it happens on the television. It's hard for me to scream and curse when I know the outcome. I'm sure my brother, kind enough to invite me over, will offer a friendly wager, as this is his team we are playing. I will accept it despite the fact that the Nation is still super pissed off about the san diegobacle witnessed on Monday night and I personally am thinking the low end of my spectrum is possible. I am envisioning the Raiders coming out of the locker room wanting some non-dolphin safe tuna for lunch, and the dolphins coming out of the inflatable helmet that minority owner Jennifer Lopez uses as a back-pocket protector. Ryan Tannehill will look like Ryan Leaf, sans painkillers, and Reggie Bush will do an impersonation of a runningback. Both my brother and myself will lament the fact we have midlevel exceptions for corners. Numerous libations will be consumed. And the Raiders shall win a very Kardashian-level of ugly game (someone tell those ladies to take their faces off the windows, they can go inside now).