
Feel that? It’s regret. Mournful regret.
How could you do us like this, Robert Griffin III? Oh yeah, your leg almost snapped in like eight pieces two weeks ago.
Still man, couldn’t you just, I dunno, run more so that we could all win fake championships and not endure a holiday season of ribbing from grandma Beatrice? What, you’ve never lost a fantasy championship to a grandmother before? Sit down, son, and let me tell you about the roads I’ve traveled.
Actually, that’s a story for another day. For now, on with the RG3 lamenting after a very blah afternoon that we should have seen coming.





