Baker Mayfield's Fight with Rex Ryan Goes Nowhere, but at Least He's Looking Ripped

Well that was disappointing. You can count me in with Ohio's Tate:

... in that I was looking forward to this beef being settled the old fashioned way. Marquise of Queensbury. Shillelagh Law. Bow to your sensei, bow to each other, start feeding each other fists. But nope. 

I guess Rex Ryan is one of those guys you just can't stay mad at. He's entered that Lovable Uncle Who Says Outrageous Things stage of his career that Charles Barkley has perfected. You want to argue with him but he puts you in a headlock and gives you noogies and you just want to grab him another Narragansett. I mean, when he said that when things go wrong you should say "I" and when they go right you should say "we." Because you couldn't have held a drinking game where you do a shot every time he used the singular, first person pronoun at one of his press conferences without ending up getting your stomach pumped. Especially in the rare good times. But even I can't help but love the guy. He's exactly where he should be doing exactly what he should be doing. 

As far as Mayfield, he at least sounds like he's learned from his mistakes and is figuring out how to lead a football team. Only time will tell on that. But in order to be the true Alpha men will follow through the gates of Hell, he's got to address this:

Holy moly. Look, I can relate. I did not always possess the perfectly scuptled, underwear model-caliber physique I have now. That's taken years of hard work. When I was a kid, I went through a fat phase. I had that body type with the belly overhang and the moobs where every time you go swimming you have to make a judgment call as to whether to leave your shirt on, or will that just attract more attention to your fat than taking it off. And the worst thing you can do in that situation is hang around with friends who have a build. That's why at summer camp I tried to seek out and befriend bigger chunks than me. One, to look better by comparison. Two, to sort of hide among the herd so the bullies would sense weakness in some other tub and leave me alone. It was a survival strategy. 

For Mayfield, looking like this among specimens like this is more of a job hazard. It'll jeopardize his ability to lead. Men don't want to follow someone who looks like Mac when he added mass. 

And getting his photo taken with these perfectly chiseled Greek statues who look like they just stepped out of the label on a bottle of protein powder isn't doing his complete lack of definition any favors. 

My advice to Mayfield is to keep his shirt on all costs until he can starting hitting the Peloton. Or if he must be near water, if there's simply no other choice, start hanging out with the defensive tackles. It's how I managed to live through summer camp.