Regardless of the circumstances (and the zipper-neck outcome), you simply cannot condone using steroids to boost your chances of a comeback in the NFL, no matter how much the Cleveland Browns were to blame for turning Tim Couch into a mosh-pit monster. No “ifs,” “ands” or “grunts."
"If you’re blue and you don’t know where to go to, why don't you go where fashion sits? (Take it, Peter Boyle!) Puttin' on the ritz! Different types who wear a daycoat, pants with stripes and cutaway coats, perfect fits ...Puttin' on the ritz!"
So, now, Tim Couch is left to wander the bleak, gray countryside - in search of a place to call home. But, hey, maybe some NFL-equivalent of “Frau Blücher” will play their violin to soothe the savage beast - and sign Couch to a short-term contract (if the steroids don’t stick, you must acquit - right, Mr. Bonds?).
Hey, it worked for this “monster” (In my defense, I’m just misunderstood). The fine folks here at Blogcritics Magazine played some “Foo Fighters” from inside their castle walls - and it got me to come in from the cold. And, to this date, I am rather proud to admit (pats self on back) that I have yet to fly into a maniacal rage and strangle any unsuspecting editors in the sports department… yet.
Unfortunately, it looks like this is the end of the line for Tim Couch in the NFL - and that’s really too bad. This guy always deserved a “better shake” than the angry mob here in Cleveland was willing to give him.
This Hunchback of Notre Dame has used his grotesque deformity (namely, sarcasm) to his advantage - maybe the much-maligned Tim Couch has another trick up his jersey sleeve, as well.