Whenever I go to Chapters, somehow I always end up walking by the self-help section, maybe because subconsciously I want to be a better person, and I’m aware that I’m failing in that endeavor. There are numerous books on any topic you desire, many of which tell you how to achieve a better orgasm.
But even more would like to feed you a load of
absolute crap positivity, and tell you how to be a more confident, beaming individual. That isn’t a problem for Giants running back David Wilson, who told Newsday’s Bob Glauber that he’s destined to have his face made into a weirdly-haunting bronze bust that resides in the Pro Football Hall of Fame.
“I think at the end of my career, I’ll be in the Hall of Fame. I know myself and I know (when) I have guys around me that feel the same way, which I feel I do. When I get my opportunity, the sky is not the limit. I think it’s past it. You have to believe in yourself to do good things. This is how I feel.”
Go ahead, laugh it up. This feels like confidence run amok and it’s now bled into insanity for a running back who was essentially benched earlier this season after fumbling on one of his first carries, and he’s only recently started to work his way free from Tom Coughlin’s doghouse chain. Wilson has just 15 carries this year through six games for 87 yards, although he’s made his presence known as a kick returner, with four returns of 40 yards or more.
But we say go forth, young man, and believe. We’re not even halfway through Wilson’s first season, and many a future hall of famer has struggled during the opening games of his career. Wilson was deemed worthy of a first-round pick by the Giants, so the talent is certainly there. Chase your dreams, boy, and chase them with fury.
We’re far more interested in Wilson’s next comment, and the interesting metaphor he chose for his effectiveness.
“I’m like birth control. You have to believe in me. Like birth control, 99.9 percent of the time I’m going to come through for you.”
Dear god no, David. Don’t do this during election season. We’ve already had a sacred, cuddly giant bird made into a divisive fear-mongering device, and now somehow you’ll be jammed into binders of women. I don’t know how, because none of us do, and it won’t make any sense. But it’ll happen.
In future, we recommend Sex Panther cologne as a similar metaphor. It’s made with bits of real panther, and 60 percent of the time it works every time.