We the People of Kansas City, in order to form a more perfect Chiefs Kingdom, establish accountability, insure civic loyalty, provide for a common 2-minute defense, promote the general Fanfare, and secure the blessings of championships to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Declaration in Address to our sovereign leader, Head Coach Andy Reid:
Two score and 15 years ago, our founding father – Mr. Hunt – brought forth upon this turf a new Kingdom. It was conceived in liberty from a tyrannical NFL commissioner, not unlike the one we currently serve, and dedicated to the proposition that, “All pro football leagues are created equal.”
Now we are engaged in the war for the championship of the NFL, testing whether that Kingdom – or any Kingdom so conceived and so dedicated – can win anything anymore. We gathered on a great battle field of that war on Thursday night, hoping to consecrate it with our patriotism and a victory over a foreign enemy – Denver – represented by the ghastly image of a mutant equine specimen who produced a bastard child with John Elway.
Many years we waited to seize such an elusive victory, yet when it was within our firm grasp in the waning twilight of Thursday’s battle, it was stolen away from our clutches in a manner so offensive and wrought with such spectacular ineptitude on the part of you and your staff, that it must call into question our support of your leadership.
And when, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the bands of support which have connected them with another, a decent respect to the opinions of football fans requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
Allow us, the undersigned, to conjure up amongst the aforementioned fans the memory of last season’s home opener, a 16-point loss to a Tennessee team which would win only one game for the remainder of the season. It lives only in the distant memory of a scant few, yet because your team missed the playoffs by only one game, it ultimately served as the difference between the end of a season and the continuation of one.
Such may be the case again this year, and we, the undersigned, will not merely dismiss Thursday night’s failure as an early-season accident should you miss the playoffs again this year. Because, although accidents occur in a league of Immaculate Receptions and Miracles at Meadowlands, let such occurrences be no alibi for your stunning inability to recognize the strength and weaknesses of your personnel and put them in positions which they would be most likely to succeed in. To prove this, let facts be submitted to a candid world.
In conjuring up the appalling display of last year’s home opener, we the undersigned recall the end of the first half of that battle, when you used a 5-foot-11 receiver to go up for a jump ball deep in your own territory, leading to an otherwise avoidable interception which resulted in further scoring for the Titans. Such a similar display was made Thursday, when play calls having miniscule chances of success at the end of both halves resulted in turnovers that led to a baffling loss.
And yet, despite these misgivings, you still found yourself in position for victory, the chances substantially in your favor with but two minutes to play, protecting a 7-point lead against a scuffling Denver offense trying to score against a defense with an ability to swarm. But lo, this is where the truly fatal mistake of the battle was made, displaying unequivocally what can only be described as your inability to judge what your men can do and what they can not.
During Denver’s entire last-minute march, you left Jamell Fleming – another 5-foot-11 underdog – all by himself to cover elite and substantially bigger wide receivers with not so much as a safety to aid his futile effort. Fleming has been let go for nothing by three teams – including the lowly Jaguars – and has never intercepted a pass in the NFL. It is absolutely unfathomable that you actually produced a strategy expecting him not to get roasted in single-coverage. Yet, as he continued to get burned play after play in the final minutes, you and your staff made no adjustment to support him with even a single safety, and he predictably allowed the game-tying touchdown right where a safety should be.
It is theoretically possible that Fleming is currently your best active cornerback for such coverage, as you maintain. And it isn’t your fault that the man who should be your best cornerback – Sean Smith – is suspended for DUI. But you knew this would be the case, and yet you monumentally failed to account for your personnel deficiencies with a different strategy because you somehow evaluated that Fleming can cover receivers the way Smith can.
This is obviously not the case. We hold these truths to be self-evident, that not all football players are created equal! Some are endowed by their Creator with certain unteachable skills, that among these are size, dexterity, and the pursuit of wide receivers.
Jamell Fleming possesses little of these skills, yet instead of recognizing what is plainly obvious to the most casual of observers, you left him to twist in the wind like a man with but one life to give, who fell on the field of battle with his proverbial bloody wounds only able to be disguised by the color of his monochrome red uniform. You left him on an island to fail by himself, with only the stench that wafts over a burned defensive back to accompany him.
Islands for defensive backs are generally reserved for those named Revis, Sherman, and Haden – those who can shut down elite receivers by themselves. However, unless there are undiscovered islands that become known in searches for Malaysian airliners, we the undersigned have not been informed that there is a Fleming Island where receivers disappear.
Nonetheless, Coach Reid, we know as you do that this team has talent in many areas. This is why we have such a high standard of expectation. We sojourn to the Sports Complex in our huddled masses of ancient tailgate buses and beat-up Camaros and Trans Ams, yearning to breathe the aroma of barbecue in the air and victory on the field. It is sometimes just about all we can hope for in our existence, and we pool our hard-earned pittances to pay your seven-figure salary.
We have a dream, that one day we will be judged not by the color of our uniforms, but by the content of our trophy cases.
The Chiefs’ trophy case has remained barren, however, of Mr. Lomardi or even Mr. Hunt since January 11, 1970, and you have been hired to remedy that. We know that it is a rare accomplishment, but it is difficult to support such a gross misevaluation of ability and even ignorance of the basic tenants of American football which even the most toothless hillbilly understands. We have not even touched upon the makeshift offensive line you have put forth, with no contingency plan for injuries except a man named Jah Reid, who was expected to line up against JJ Watt three days after arriving in Kansas City. And not surprisingly, this offensive line collapsed Thursday night and allowed not a single third down to be converted.
The season is a long way from being over, Coach Reid, as you know. For all we know, this will be a mere laugh on the road to Super Bowl 50. But let it be known that it’s starting to become apparent to us that Thursday’s misfortunes were more than just fluky occurrences, but the product of a greater problem. If the Chiefs miss the playoffs, this problem will be the reason, and your resignation will be graciously accepted.
We, the undersigned, would possess nothing but sad hearts if this were to happen. But at the end of the struggle, we endeavor that those who fall shall not have fallen in vain; that the Kingdom shall have a new birth and that the team of Kansas City, by Kansas City, and for Kansas City, shall not perish from the turf.
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