Just Look At Herschel Walker Now

Drew Magary’s Thursday Afternoon NFL Dick Joke Jamboroo runs every Thursday at Defector during the NFL season. Got something you wanna contribute? Email the Roo. And buy Drew’s book, The Night The Lights Went Out, through here.

If you're burned out on politics from the past six-odd years, you might have glanced over Herschel Walker—that Herschel Walker; not some other, younger, more lucid or accomplished Herschel Walker—not only winning the Republican nomination for Senate candidate in Georgia, but potentially also being the pivotal figure in that party’s effort to win back control of the entire Senate chamber. This is, against monstrous odds, a relatively easy news story to overlook, given that America elected Donald Trump as its president in 2016. You’re well accustomed to American voters pulling this kinda shit.

But even if you don’t live in Georgia, bless your heart, you should probably start paying attention again. Because the next two years of federal governance, and perhaps beyond, may very well hinge on the political wiles of this man:

Now that’s an objectively funny piece of political theater. Herschel Walker whipping out a genuine official police badge that he found in a box of Frosted Krusty Flakes is right up there with “Well, when the President does it, that means it is not illegal,” “BYAH!!!,” and other oratory fuck-ups that are entrenched in the national memory. It is decidedly less funny that Walker is even at this point. He has no political experience, nor seemingly any genuine political interest. His track record as a businessman is—shockaroo!—shadier than a pecan tree. He’s been more responsible for more abortions than Nathaniel Hackett’s play sheet. He’s losing ground and can do nothing substantive about it, save for waiting for the wind to blow his way. And, most crucially, he is PROFOUNDLY unwell. He has said as much himself, repeatedly:

Walker once told Dan Le Batard and Bomani Jones that he would, on more than one occasion, play Russian roulette in front of houseguests. He was formally diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder back in 2001. His ex-wife says he once threatened to slit her throat with a straight razor before choking her until she blacked out. In both ability and deed, Walker is as unfit a Senate candidate as has ever been, and Lord knows there’s been a lot of competition for that title.

The Republican Party knows Walker is unfit, but couldn’t unearth a more suitable opponent for incumbent Democratic Senator Raphael Warnock because—and this is the entirety of it—they couldn’t find anyone else as famous.

Walker’s fame exists on gradations. If you’re an old-timer, you remember him as arguably the greatest running back in the history of college football. Go a little younger, and you remember him as the trade bait that helped usher in a new (and apparently final) dynasty of Dallas Cowboys football. Go younger than that, and he’s the Guy who could do a lot of push-ups, provided you believe such fairy tales of risin’ & grindin’. Those memories are Walker’s campaign strategy in full.

They also mean nothing. Herschel Walker is no longer relevant in the field that made him famous. He didn’t make the Pro Football Hall of Fame, nor did he stick around the league in the usual, prominent ways that ex-players like to: coaching, broadcasting, etc. And his college mythos, particularly in his home state, was built as much on his contributions to the Georgia Bulldogs’ 1980 national championship as much as it was his pure ability rushing the ball. But UGA, under the watch of Kirby Smart, has grown into a lasting juggernaut that no longer needs memories of the former Heisman winner to thrive. Football doesn’t need Herschel Walker anymore.

Even with all that evident, football remains all that Walker has to his name in 2022. In that way, he's no different from many of the broken men the NFL has left behind. What makes Walker a potentially frightening anomaly among those league alums is that his handlers have seen fit to use those ghosts not only to mount a Senate campaign, but to drive it. His fame is intractable, no matter its import. People know who Herschel Walker is, even if they don’t know why they know who he is. And we live in a country where the NFL acts as a branch of the government because, for all intents and purposes, it is one. That was enough for Mitch McConnell and his fellow gargoyles to stomach the idea of Walker as their potential savior.

And perhaps they’ll be rewarded for it. After all, American history is littered with electoral curiosities, such as Missouri electing a dead man to the Senate in 2001. The candidate is the cause, which means that their personal foibles—not being alive, for instance—are things that many voters are content to overlook. Many Georgia voters will be similarly content to overlook the man Herschel Walker is today, a man who is now far gone, to be a cursory rubber stamp for McConnell’s worst ideas.

Walker would be more than happy for them to do so: to ignore the ugliness of his past and the likely panoply of conditions underlying them. In fact, he’s as eager to forget who he is as his supporters are:

You and I both know that's a lie, but Republicans are more than willing to indulge this lie—almost certainly to Walker’s mental and physical detriment—in their eagerness to resume fucking over the general electorate.

Now, you can take that as partisan whining on my part, given that I’m a liberal. I won’t blame you for it. But what Walker's candidacy demonstrates, beyond the standard polarization, is not how Americans view vulnerability in others but how they use it for their own gain. Some might use expressing sympathies as an easy and public way of showing they have a soul. Some might use their own mental illness as potential cover for acts of malevolence. Some, like Walker and everyone else around him, might treat it as an inconvenience. Something in the way. Nothing worth looking at or caring about, certainly not closely. That last group has an ally in a country that loves to talk about mental health so long as it doesn’t have to look at the ugly parts of it. And when Americans DO see the nasty bits, they're still prone to either express disgust, or they ignore it, because it suits their needs to do so.

Republicans would like Georgians to believe that nothing is wrong with Herschel Walker. Walker would like them to do the same, and somehow that's been enough to get him this far, on the brink of official statesmanship. If Walker wins and becomes a decisive vote in the U.S. Senate, it’ll be further proof that people are only treated as well or unwell as other people want them to be. I don't need to tell you that this is fucked, but I want to anyway, because this is deeply fucked. So look at Herschel Walker, and see him for who he is, and not who you want or don’t want him to be. The cost of looking away is steeper than you might guess.

The Games

All games in the Jamboroo are evaluated for sheer watchability on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms.

Five Throwgasms

None.

Four Throwgasms

None. Rough slate this week. I blame Dan Snyder.

Three Throwgasms

Falcons at Bengals: Both of these teams have already taken full advantage of the NFL’s revised helmet guidelines this season. Prior to this season, all teams had to have the same color helmet shells for every game. The decals they could fuck around with, but the base color had to remain consistent. The NFL finally lifted that edict for 2022 and the results, all around, have been SPECTACULAR. I love these fucking helmets! Loogit this bad-ass shit!

And this one, which Atlanta re-debuted a week ago!

And don’t forget the new Power Rangers helmets, too! They have no upper facemask! WHAAAH?!

I could stare at these helmets all day, and have. Once upon a time, if I wanted new color on an NFL field, I had to wait until some lousy Thursday night game where Nike unveiled a new set of Color Rush long johns for players to wear. No longer! No no, this time I actually get both color AND contrast. And if you don’t like these helmets, then guess what? FUCK YOU! Why don’t you go shop for another mauve jacket at Eddie Bauer, you joyless fuckhead?! I bet you call Mike Brown “Mister!" I’ll shit in your car! MORE COOL HELMETS, PLEASE.

Chiefs at Niners: In other swag news, all of the NFL’s new tie-dye gear reminds me of the time I made a homemade tie-dye t-shirt at summer camp back in, like, 1989. The end result did not look like a proper tie-dye job. It looked like I’d thrown that t-shirt into the washer with a package of grapes.

Seahawks at Chargers

Colts at Titans

Two Throwgasms

Bears at Patriots: You’re familiar with Adam Schefter’s fuckery by now, but every week he still finds new ways to lick himself a boot:

Honestly, why the fuck should I care that Bob Kraft got married? I’m still angry that I have to know who Bob Kraft even IS. I don’t know who the CEO of Pepsi is now, do I? I bet he’s a real asshole! Probably married to a raging biscuit of a woman!

Lions at Cowboys: Cowboys defensive coordinator Dan Quinn is singlehandedly attempting to bring back wearing your hat backward among middle-aged men. I’m not optimistic that he’ll succeed.

Saints at Cardinals: The only way this game tonight will be worth watching is if Kyler Murray strangles Kliff Kingsbury to death right there on the sideline. And you know what? It could happen. This Cardinals team is worse than England.

Browns at Ravens

Steelers at Dolphins

Jets at Broncos

Giants at Jaguars

Packers at Commanders

One Throwgasm

Texans at Raiders: I’ve watched more baseball this month than I have in years, and all of the playoff goodness has reminded me of one thing: that warning track fly balls are the worst. Fucking teasing-ass non-homers. If your fly ball makes it to the warning track, that should be a home run. I bet Rob Manfred agrees with me. He and I are gonna figure out a way to make it happen.

Bucs at Panthers

Pregame Song That Makes Me Wanna Run Through A Goddamn Brick Wall

In the spirit of Halloween, it’s “(You Must Fight To Live) On The Planet Of The Apes,” by The Mummies! From Lou:

But do they hate every ape they see, from chimpan-A to chimpan-Z? That’s the real question.

Great Moments In Poop History

Reader Stephanie sends in this story I’ll call FARTIN’ STATE.

Honestly, I’m still thinking about mashed potatoes on a hot dog. Is that really a thing people do?

Which Idiot GM Is This?

You know your team is in good hands when the man in charge of the roster is a professionally sweaty guy who MEANS BUSINESS. Which team does the man below hold in his meaty paws?

That’s Dave Ziegler of the Raiders. Ziegler can’t believe this, but his superiors have informed him that you’re going… to Top Gun.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week

Genny Light! We’ve done regular Genesee here, and we’ve done the fabled Genesee Cream Ale. But sometimes you want a Genny that fits your active, mountain-climbing lifestyle. Reader Jacob has found it:

Your instincts served you well on that end, Jake.

Gameday Movie Of The Week For Panthers Fans

Ambulance! Yes, it’s Jake Gyllenhaal Appreciation Month here at Defector, which brings us to our man headlining Michael Bay’s latest opus. Michael Bay is an acquired taste, but R-rated Michael Bay is cinema at its very blowest-uppest. When you let that director go the full Michael Bay, I’ll forgive pretty much anything he does, as I do in Ambulance. This movie features all of the standard Bayisms. The blatant product placement. The robber who’s actually a troop. The fact that L.A.’s best paramedic just so happens to be its hottest one. Wale added to the cast to raise the sass level by a solid 60 percent. It’s all here, but fuck me if all of the frenetic car chases and gunplay didn’t give me a welcome case of revived preteendom. I did my fair share of eye-rolling for the first 20 minutes of Ambulance, but when the ambulance started moving? Bay had me in his dutifully manicured hands the rest of the way.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote

Enjoy the games, everyone.