Dear Diary,
It’s happening. It’s fucking happening. The Messiah has been named our Week 3 starter against the Cleveland Browns. If you didn’t know, he got some real playing time last week after Daddy Dalton went down with a non-contact injury in classic old guy fashion. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t shriek when it happened. A shriek that was filled with both grief for Dalton’s illustrious and oft mediocre career, but more importantly, in anticipation for my new King.
We have a tall task this week going against the Cleveland Browns, but their defense gave up double digits against the fucking Houston Texans last week, so my hopes are high. If they aren’t met, then I’m going to start a petition for Matt Nagy to be publicly pantsed by Queen Virginia. (Can you imagine? Her frail, 90-something-year-old arms just tearing the khakis off of Nagy’s trembling body with that god forsaken muzzle quivering?)
I know that Justin’s the best rookie quarterback in this class. And his performance doesn’t have to be a 2018 Mahomes level one for that to be true. He just needs to play like Jalen Hurts last season, because Mac has been fine, Zach has been horrid, Trevor’s been brutal and Trey Lance won’t see the field consistently until Jimmy GQ goes down.
I care less about a win this week than I do about watching Justin man the offense and protect himself from Myles Garret and Jadeveon Clowney. That’s all I ask. Just catch whatever comes your way, Allen Robinson and Darnell Mooney, and block like your life depends on it, Jason Peters. Because it very well might since you’re going up against a guy who writes poetry and nearly decapitated Mason Rudolph.
I’ll talk to you next week and let you know how things went.
Love,
Peanut Tillman Belongs in the Hall of Fame’s Number One Advocate
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