Now, I want you to remember that no Chump team ever won a Superbowl by sucking for High Draft picks.
He won it by making the other poor dumb Teams lose for their picks.
Men, all this stuff you’ve heard about The Broncos not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of the playoffs, is a lot of horse shit. Broncos traditionally love to win. All real Broncos love the sting of battle. When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble shooter, the fastest runner, the big league ball player, the toughest boxer. Denver loves a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Broncos play to win all the time. I wouldn’t give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That’s why the Broncos have never lost and will never lose again. Because the very thought of losing
is hateful to the Broncos, Denver and me.
Now, an Team is a Army. It lives, eats, sleeps, fights as a team. This individuality stuff is a bunch of crap. The bilious bastards who wrote that stuff about individuality for the Saturday Evening Post don’t know anything more about real games than they do about fornicating. They may suck me off every week on TV, but they do not understand this is a team sport.
We have the finest Uniforms and equipment, the best spirit and the best men in the world. You know, by God I actually pity those poor bastards we’re going up against. By God, I do. We’re not just going to score on the bastards, we’re going to cut out their living guts and use them to grease the treads of our pink breast cancer shoes. We’re going to murder those lousy Raider bastards by the bushel.
Now, some of you boys, I know, are wondering whether or not you'll chicken out under 3rd down. Don't worry about it.
I can assure you that you will all do your duty. Oakland, and injustice, are the enemy. Wade into them. Spill their blood. Deliver helmet to helmet hits. When you put your hand into a bunch of goo that a moment before was your blocker's face, you'll know what to do.
Now there’s another thing I want you to remember. I don’t want to get any messages saying that we are holding our position. Managing the clock. Nursing a lead.
We’re not holding anything. Let the cowards do that. We are advancing constantly and we’re not interested in holding onto anything except the ball. In the endzone.
We're going to hold onto that ball by the nose and we're going to kick them in the ass. We're going to kick the hell out of them all the time and we're gonna go through them like crap through a goose.
There’s one thing that you men will be able to say when you get back home. And you may thank God for it. Thirty years from now when you’re sitting around your fireside with your grandson on your knee and he asks you what did you do in the great NFL,
you won’t have to say, "Well, I shoveled shit in Louisiana." You'll say "Gfarble garble", because you concussed the hell out of yourself.
Alright now, you sons-of-bitches, you know how I feel. Oh, and I will be proud to lead you wonderful guys into battle – anytime, anywhere.