It’s my mom’s birthday today, so I thought of no better present than to piss her off as first-born sons tend to do.
My mom has been the Kyle Shanahan in my life. She’s already mad reading this because she’s in that part of the fanbase that’s had it with Kyle.
“Kyle? Why Kyle? You couldn’t call me Bill Walsh? He gave birth to the West Coast Offense, and I gave birth to you on the West Coast. Isn’t that enough?”
As a child of immigrants raised in the academic Gladiator pit of South Bay Area public schools, it feels great to turn the tables on your parent and tell her no, it’s not enough.