Originally Posted by Lucky
It's not the coaching changes, but the coaching selections (and the team management) that have set these franchises back.
None of our damn players are being ruined, if that's the case.
Hell, some of these players have had Kubiak as a coach longer than some kids in this world have had a dad or a mom...or both.
There's always a reason why someone failed, and it seems some people think it's never the failed person's fault. Nope. Someone or something else was the culprit.
I hate the "victim mentality." Don't go projecting that on people. A failed coach fails because he failed. And a failed player fails because he failed. And failed coaches and failed players are the ones who create 1-15 or 2-14 seasons. They're like gasoline and matches together.
This is so freaking simple to me. Gurry Kubiak is a failed head coach. I am as comfortable saying it now as I was way back in Schaub's first season here (check my post records if you doubt I'm saying I was off the Kubiak wagon that far back). A few bright spots swayed me out of my doubt, and here I am--again--finding my way back to my original position from so many years ago.
I think I'm sticking with the soap until the guy is gone, even if it's not this year that he gets canned. He'll get one more season. Again. It's how McNair rolls. He wants to make things work. He's the guy who waits 5 seconds after the light turns green, holding up traffic and keeping you from making the light. Honk! Honk! The light is green, you doofus. I'd like to NOT sit and wait another 4 minutes please.
Then, when you finally get through the light and you catch up to Bob because his lack of action with the accelerator made you miss the light the first time, there's Bob who's got his hands at 10-and-2, smiling like a jackwagon, and oblivious that anybody else is on the road with him. And for a split-second, you WANT to ram his car...but you remember all those library fines you haven't paid yet, so you figure it isn't worth it.
Instead, you follow him home to see where he leaves. And later that night you go and defecate on the windshield of his car. Problem solved. Small variation on this plan is if you would rather poop on his windshield, slap on some rubber gloves, and fingerpaint the sentence "Thanks for nothing, Bob!"