Because nothing would ease the pain more than Jahvid Best putting up two hundy and destroying the Vikings... Well, almost nothing.

And here's a poem so that I meet the 75-word quota.

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?