By By Tony Krausz / assistant sports editor
April 10, 2004
That's it it's over.
Sorry, Brian Griese of I tripped over my dog and took a header into my staircase fame you don't make the cut.
So long, Gus Frerotte of celebrating by ramming your head into a solid concrete wall of JFK Stadium fame you no longer cut the mustard.
The end has come for you Jeff George of cannon arm and cannon fodder brain.
The time has come to pass the torch Terry Bradshaw, who with every word proves the only thing you lost more than hair are brain cells.
Much like your career Danny Awful, er, Wuerffel, you no longer make the cut.
Your day is done, Ryan Leaf. You no longer reign supreme over the land of nutcase quarterbacks.
All of you had good runs, but it is time to step aside. All of your positions on the list of shmuck quarterbacks have been usurped by a third-stringer no less.
Welcome the new king of intellectually-challenged signal callers the New York football Giants' Jesse Palmer. This is no typo; there is another Palmer in the NFL not named Carson.
And this Palmer is on top of the list of knuckleheads who line up or have lined up behind center.
But wait, how does a third-string quarterback leap frog all of these starters, as misplaced as some of them were behind the center on a pro field?
Is it really possible for a guy who has thrown for just 532 yards in three seasons to take over the top stop?
You bet it is, if you have enough imagination and lack of intelligence, any clipboard-totting jock can move up to the top of the list of putz quarterbacks.
And Palmer hit the progressive jackpot, the daily double and the trifecta in one clean swoop.
The former Florida quarterback jumped to the top by becoming the latest "Bachelor" on ABC's reality show that just won't die.
Palmer said he wanted to take a dip into the reality TV waters to find "the one." He claims dating is hard for him because he never knows if the gal is with him for his personality or his status as a football player.
News flash splunky, you are a third-string quarterback nobody knows who you are the women don't come a runnin' for No. 3.
One more thing, the young ladies lining up to be picked over like cattle, no matter how it is hidden behind the handing out of roses, are not trying to find "the one." They just want to be on TV.
The only thing worse than the fact that a young football player pimping himself on national television for a date is how he got on the show.
Palmer's agent is the one who steered the 25-year-old to ABC's studios and onto a show that lands right at the doorstep of the lowest common denominator.
The agent went to Palmer's family to get him on the show before he went to the quarterback, and the family actually encouraged Palmer to become the star of The Bachelor.
This makes Terrell Owens' agent look like Jerry Maguire. Sure Owens' handler can't figure out how to work a fax machine and meet a deadline, but he's not sending his guy out to date in front of millions of television viewers.
Palmer is a guy that shouldn't have to have 30 women delivered to his doorstep.
He is the son of a former professional football player and a model, by pedigree alone he should have no problems hooking up.
Plus, he may be a third-stringer, but he's still a pro athlete in New York City, no less it can't be that hard to find a young lady to take to dinner and a movie. And as we said before, third on the depth chart doesn't lead to a lot of folks flocking to you like flies to honey, so it shouldn't be that hard to have a low-profile date.
Palmer's only dip into television dating should be as that hunk they trot out at the end of Average Joe to snag the supermodel-like babe from the regular shlob who was just the lesser of two evils before the stud shows up.
So hand out your roses, take the carriage rides and sweet talk the babes Palmer with each minute of television you solidify your reign at the top of dumb quarterbacks.