Isaiah Crowell

USA Today

Crowell’s Charmin Commercial

There will be consequences.

September 21, 2018 - 10:12 am

Getting lost in Bakerpalooza is Jets running back Isaiah Crowell method acting a Charmin commercial in the end zone after he housed his second rushing touchdown of the night. And believe me—dude would rather I talk about Bake right now. Because rubbing a Spalding up and down your back side and tossing into the crowd afterwards plays a whole helluva better if you don’t blow a 14 point lead.

This was back in the second quarter before Bake went legend. Back when the Jets looked like were gonna boat race the Browns in first game in the Hue Jackson Era that Vegas made them the favorites. You’ll remember that Crowell spent the last four years in C-Town. Yeah, well, apparently it didn’t end well because this guy couldn’t wait to lob a butt-wiped football at his old fans after going for his second rushing TD of the game.

You heard Joe Buck. “That’ll get a flag every time”. What you didn’t hear was Joe Buck describing what will get a flag every time. Hard to blame the guy when he’s talking to a TV audience who can see Crowell turn his back to the crowd—squat down—wipe the ball three times on backside—then turn and toss it into Souvenir City as if they’re his giant toilet. And—yes—that’ll draw a flag time. And an a book of matches. And some Febreeze.

The celebration was so egregious, so vulgar, so blatant, so lacking of subtly, so over the top, so disgusting, so stupid—that you almost have to respect it. Almost. Because who does that? T.O. never did that. Ocho never did that. OBJ’s never done that. Hell, Randy Moss shooting the moon in Green Bay isn’t even in the same genre as what saw last night. 

Here’s what really fascinates me. Crowell knew that bending over and three-wipe-Chucking his hammock was gonna draw a flag. He knew it was gonna draw a fine. He knew he was live, national TV. He knew kids were watching. He knew he was gonna get chewed out. He knew the act of wiping his butt with a football and then throwing it into the crowd would be the kind of thing that follows you around forever. He knew all of that. 

And he still did it.

And if he didn’t know that, than that’s on him. Because in what world does someone dial up the absurdity to 11 and think—or not know—that there will be consequences. 

But here’s the thing. The League doesn’t have a 20 yard penalty. Or a 30 yard penalty. Or a 50 yard penalty. The NFL is maxed out at 15. So might as well bring a newspaper into the end zone bathroom next time. Get comfortable. Because you can’t lose more than 15 yards. 

The fine Crowell gets in his mailbox should be interesting, though. And let me just say this to Isaiah right now. Pay the fine. Don’t appeal it. Don’t wipe with it. Just pay it. Because you earned it. Every cent of it.

The only thing more baffling than his celebration was his explanation afterwards. “It was just passion. I’ve just got to control myself.”

Passion? That’s passion for you? Bro—that’s a weird way to show passion. Especially when you could have spiked the ball, spun the ball, or dunked the ball. And dude—you’ve been to the house 25 times before that and never once wiped your backside with the Duke. So check your passion. Because that’s a bizarre way to show passion.

I also love Todd Bowles saying, “It will never happen again.” Right. Because who would do that once—let alone twice? But damn—the stones on Crowell if he ran that back one more time. And how could you blame the guy? It’s his passion.

Isaiah--you're lucky Bake went off and ripped all the headlines and helped cover you up today. Check that. No you're not. You're still the dude who wiped his ass with a football in the game that you lost. Well played, Bro. Well played.