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The Ballad Of Limas Sweed

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Today is a dark day for the [intlink id=”23″ type=”category”]Pittsburgh Steelers[/intlink]. Earlier this morning, wide receiver Limas Sweed was cut by the Black and Gold.  I’ll give you a moment to process this shocking news.

For a guy fighting for his career, spending the majority of training camp on the sideline isn’t the best plan of attack.  You can’t make the club from the tub.

Poor [intlink id=”81″ type=”category”]Limas Sweed[/intlink].  When the history of the Steelers is written, his name will be near the top of any list detailing the biggest draft busts in history.  Even a first round disaster like Troy Edwards lasted seven mediocre seasons before calling it a career.  Limas never got out of the blocks.

If you look at his junior year at Texas, Sweed showed all the signs of being at worst a poor man’s Plaxico Burress.  Unfortunately, he shot himself in the foot figuratively instead of literally.  The thing about receivers is you can teach them to catch the ball.  Guys like Randy Moss or Jerry Rice fell in the draft because the knock on them coming out of school was they ran bad routes or didn’t have great hands.  Through practice and hard work, they overcame those deficiencies.

What you can’t teach is natural athletic ability.  Either a guy can get open or he can’t.  You also can’t teach size.  Sweed is 6’4 and 210 pounds and runs a 4.4/40.  There is no physical reason he shouldn’t have made it.

So what happens when tragedy strikes?   Well, we write a sad song about it.  Yes, the reason I posted a Billy Joel tune up there isn’t because I’m targeting the coveted 35-49 MILF cougar demographic.  It’s because I’ve composed a song in honor of our dear departed Limas.   Play the song while reading the following lyrics.

THE BALLAD OF LIMAS SWEED

He steps up to scrimmage, scans the D with his eyes
They come with a blitz he won’t recognize
He is Alonzo Jackson, he is Tim Worley
He won’t make the catch because he’ll always be Limas Sweed

He stands six foot four, a big drink of water
And there is no suspense when you hit the fourth quarter
Ben throws him a deep-out, his fifth incomplete
Yeah, he won’t make the catch ’cause he’ll always be Limas Sweed

Ohhh… He doesn’t believe in himself
He waits on the ball
But it never arrives
Ohhh… And a second round choice
Before the pick’s sent in
Colbert should’ve changed his mind

And his college stats show he can be terrific
Until you see he’d miss water if he fell in the Pacific
But they wanted someone tall, not with the speed
Blame it all on our Ben because he’ll always be Limas Sweed

Mhmm—Mhmm—Mhmm—Mhmm–……

Mhmm—Mhmm—Mhmm—Mhmm–……

Ohhh… He earns more than we do
He can play if he wants
He’s on his own time

Ohhh… And remember that hit
The one on Corey Ivy
It’s his one claim to fame

He’s frequently maligned
And suddenly cut
He can do as he pleases
Maybe learning to putt

He’s never been convicted
Just like our QB
And the worst he will do
Is catch balls for someone new

But he’ll always be Limas Sweed

Mhmm—Mhmm—Mhmm—Mhmm–Mhmm—Mhmm….

Mhmm—Mhmm—Mhmm–……