My Colts, My Choice: The DadBall Era’s 2021 Colts Preview

A WORRISOMELY LARGE percentage of Colts fans have mindlessly accepted mediocrity this season. They have been fooled into expecting only 10 or 11 wins—perhaps 12 at the most—and maybe a playoff game or two. Not bad for a team that didn’t make the playoffs last year, right? 

Wrong. The 2021 Colts will be historically dominant. That is my firmly held belief.

Slow down! the quote-unquote “experts” warn, the supposed “football people” covering the NFL. Those keen-eyed savants played and coached football for decades and now earn their living by relentlessly studying the sport under 100,000,000x magnification. You must be realistic, they caution, condescendingly. You must temper your expectations with this team.

Nonsense! I will do no such thing! I will not live in fear of losing to the Rams or the Titans, or any other team for that matter. Not in August. I mean—it is too hot for that, and besides, it’s tyranny! It is un-American. Who are they to shove their expectations down my throat? Just because I’ve never played football and don’t even watch it all that much doesn’t mean that my football opinions are any less valid than theirs. We just happen to see things differently when it comes to this Colts team, the professional analysts and myself. We have different perspectives on the matter.

This does not mean that I am “anti-reality,” because I’m not. I pride myself on keeping an open mind.

Rather, I am reality-hesitant. I am skeptical of its alleged benefits, if there even are any. (THERE ARE NOT.) I just need more data. More research.

Specifically, I need more data and more research that tends to confirm precisely what I already believe to be true: This 2021 Colts team is a surefire lock to win this year’s Super Bowl, and probably next year’s too.

“You ignorant rube,” the experts admonish. “This is not how football analysis works. You are endangering yourself with your refusal to look at this team objectively!”

Oh? Well put this in your all-22 film and smoke it, nerd: On Parler last week, @FreedomOverFear765 was talking about this guy he kind of knew in McCordsville who caved in and tempered his “Kwity Paye for Defensive Player of the Year award” expectations—his first and only dose of Colts reality, so to speak—and the poor bastard immediately died of mercury poisoning. Coincidence? The LAMESTREAM national sports media want you to think so! They are not to be trusted.

Me? I’m only here to free minds and chew horse paste … and I’m all out of horse paste. So, listen here, gang:

If you want to be brainwashed into looking at this Colts team rEaliSTicAlLy—to have your expectations lowered slightly and probably die some weird Dickinsonian death—then go right ahead. But you have a choice in the matter. You, too, can choose reckless optimism. You, too, can live #ForTheShoe—because, why not? Literally everything else in the world sucks ass right now and/or is on fire, including the ocean.

This year’s Colts team, though, is different. It is good and decent and understandable—at least for now it is. It hasn’t given up 308 rushing yards to the Jags’ sixth-string fullback yet, for example, or actively endangered the lives of our kids in order to prove a political point. Things could change, obviously. But probably not today they won’t. Probably not tomorrow either. 

Indeed, for the time being, the Colts can be our reprieve: a hope-filled, sanity-preserving Anvil in a sea of rage and confusion. Is this a smart way to live? No. But will it prevent crushing psychological trauma down the road? Also, no—which is why some cans were just made to be kicked.

So, let’s turn that chronic depressive mood disorder upside down, temporarily! Let’s go ALL IN on this team in every way possible, even if only briefly. Let’s bask in the rosy warmth of what might be, for once, instead of dwelling on the gross swampsack we’re living in now. And if you’re still not fully on board with this entrustment—if #ForTheShoe remains merely a marketing gimmick and not the core essence of your being—let me leave you with a bit of my own research and data that you won’t find in any of the NFL’s “woke” advanced metrics used to make mathematical predictions:

Newly signed free-agent quarterback Carson Wentz—who was injured while walking to the first meeting of the first day of training camp—has looked BIONIC after his surgery. Faster. Quicker. More accurate. More nimble. Uncharacteristically nimble, truth be told—as if the surgeon secretly sewed Michael Vick’s skillset into Wentz’s foot bones … which is exactly what he did, according to this retired orthodontist in my Facebook group. There is historical precedent for this surgical procedure, of course, rooted in peer-reviewed medicine: It’s called Disney’s 1993 documentary film Rookie of the Year. Go look it up, sheeple.

And so it shall be again this season. Wentz is winning the MVP, the Colts are winning the Super Bowl, and anyone arguing otherwise is an enemy of freedom hellbent on controlling us.

Jump on in, folks. The delusion feels wonderful.