This is the moment Cutler released the game-winning touchdown.
Jay Cutler never asked for approval.
He never attempted to win over the Lovie lobby when arriving in Chicago as Jerry Angelo’s big ticket toy. He didn’t give a shit that Brian Urlacher and Lance Briggs were the big men on campus. He wasn’t going to kiss the fingers where the two keep their imaginary championship rings.
Cutler has never served up the mindless platitudes others do (especially the fella up in Seattle) in a desperate attempt to be media and fan friendly while raking in endorsement money. Cutler doesn’t care what the media and fans think of him. If he wanted to be liked he could spew things like:
My thing is, and I’ve always been this way – to get to know as many people as I possibly can on a personal level, so that way, when you get on the football field, you’ve got your buddy right beside you, and you’re ready to go. – Russell Wilson
When he shoved an offensive lineman for lack of effort or cursed off an offensive coordinator hell bent on getting him killed, he was too emotional. (He’s a brat! That’s not a leader!) When he didn’t scream and yell and throw his helmet after every interception, he wasn’t emotional enough. (He doesn’t care! That’s not a leader!)
I sat in The Billy Goat Tavern with Reverend Dave last December and watched Dave be drank, gargled and spit out by a gentleman bussing tables because Dave had the nerve merely suggest he DID NOT HATE Cutler. The forty minutes that followed revealed to me that in Chicago’s bloodstream lived a disease. If this disease was gonorrhea, hating Cutler was the burning during urination.
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