Rob Gronkowski is to football what Jesus is to being a stridently conservative politician opposing taxes and socialized snow removal, so to see God Gronk go down in the AFC championship game was devastating, and not only to those of us in the Church of God Gronk.
Football fans will have to suffer, like Donald Trump forced to listen to an NPR segment, through a Super Bowl featuring a guy who I assumed retired three years ago (Peyton Manning) and Cam Newton, a man who strikes fear in the hearts of every football watcher who longs for the days when men celebrated their accomplishments like men–by doing nothing and suppressing his feelings until they suffocate and die.
God Gronk did everything he could to defeat the Denver Broncos. The infallible one dominated in the second half of the game, when Tom Brady decided to stop sucking. Gronk won. The Patriots lost. Disband the goddamn team and let Gronk be his own franchise.
Now we face a most heinous prospect: a Super Bowl devoid of God Gronk’s stoic behavior, his humility on the field, his respect for all teammates and opponents. Instead, we get a corpse they call Manning (as if he’s still actually in the league) and Newton, every Real American’s nightmare. My father, drinking a bucket of something he calls little-bit-of-everything juice, screamed in horror when Newton “dabbed” on Sunday night after his first rushing touchdown. Dad wretched into his bucket of whiskey and vodka and tequila and Miller High Life and declared the United States dead. Never had he seen someone celebrate a touchdown in such a disgusting way. Cam should take a page from God Gronk and never celebrate his successes.
Because you know who else dabbed? Here’s a clue: he had a stupid-ass mustache and ruled Germany when they were basically the Carolina Panthers of Europe.
Remember that when you’re suffering through Super Bowl 50, watching America’s demise right before your drunken eyes. Remember that we could’ve been watching the selfless, stoic, humble-to-a-fault God Gronk. Instead we have to watch Hitler-esque dabbing for four hours. Rest in peace, USA.