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For The Love Of God Please Let Steven Cheah Get Fat

The major news this morning is that Tom Brady is once again retiring from the NFL. People will make fun of everything he gave up to play last season but even in losing he still made history. He lost to the Browns in the regular season AND got smacked around by the Cowboys in the postseason. I'm fairly sure those two things have never happened to one person in a single year before. So kudos for that GOAT.

I would instead like to focus on our dear friend and three season lifetime Tom Brady fan Steven Cheah. While the fans in Boston get to celebrate their guy again now that he no longer plays in the league, Cheah and the rest of the Buccaneers' fans have to pretend like that one championship ring actually quenched their bloodlust for titles. I'm not buying it. I think he's secretly pissed deep down.  

I enjoy Steven's work. And while I have not met him in person yet, he seems like a sweetheart of a guy. But just because you are a sweetheart doesn't mean you can't absolutely infuriate me with your incessant happiness and optimism.

I mean just watch that video above. Does this look like the face of a guy whose kid is whining while he tries to make a video about his QB retiring and throwing his favorite franchise into shambles? 


In my daily life, the slightest inconvenience launches me into a rage fueled tailspin that ends in my dog hiding and me staring out the window in shame. I'm a Browns fan and even the win over Tom Brady this season didn't make me happy. My default setting is defeated. Yet somehow old smily, bright eyes here just carries on with his life like everything is hunky dory.

But I believe this man isn't really happy. He's a ticking time bomb.

The wildest part about all of this is the fact he just casually slid in a conclusion of him doing the TB12 Method. You know, the one only that is supposed to train elite athlete's bodies to "prehab" instead of "rehab" so they don't sustain lasting injuries that keep them off the field. 

Yeah, Cheah announced his retirement from that while driving the mini-van he will use to get to his job blogging and webcasting.

I'm not knocking the work. Shit, that's my job too. But Vin Scully, Dick Enberg, and Howard Cosell didn't ripped darts and sip scotch in the booth so we could eat like Ukranian super models and have defined cheek bones. We don't need to spin infant blood in a centrifuge and sleep in cryogenic chambers in order to power rank the best BallSack Sports tweets from this past year.

So my hope for Steven is the same thing I hope for just about every athlete that retires. For all our sake, I hope get gets fat as fuck. 

From what I can tell by stalking his Facebook and scouring the interwebs, Steven has never really been fat. He has a few poorly angled videos but other than that the guy has been rail thin his entire life.

If Steven doesn't eat away the sadness and anger it may manifest itself in other forms. We have had enough violence in the workplace these past few years at Barstool, we don't need a Cheah meltdown too. I have a feeling it would put the Tonga Volcanic eruption to shame. Bill O'Reilly thinks Steven needs to blow off some steam before he melts down on camera.

Giphy Images.

Not only would an outburst from Steven be jarring to the Barstool ecosystem but he would immediately be served with a cease and desist from Frank the Tank. It's time to "prehab" the internal anger before you swerve into the Tank's lane.

Cheah is a family man who loves football. It's time for Steven to take his final form as such. An overweight guy who grumbles under his breath when the food delivery guy puts the bag just a little too far from the door and celebrates when all the nachos stick together.

Just give up. Then he will know what true happiness feels like. Because right now, with that forced smile on his face and those dead eyes, everyone is in danger. It's time to find true peace, Steven. Embrace the carbs. Embrace the weight.