Madden 25 is coming. Kudos to them for making this whole cover thing pretty much one of the great PR plays of all time. Think about it. There’s a f-in BRACKET. There WILL BE VEGAS ODDS. The winning player will undoubtedly go on a massive media tour the day he is announced as the winner. Oh yes, and all the media will ask…for serious…how does it feel to be a Madden cover winner? Did you ever foresee this? What did you think were the chances?
Honestly, if you told me this 10 years ago, I would’ve looked at you like you had three heads. Twenty years ago. Another planet. Wait, Madden is 25 YEARS OLD? Give me a second. breathe. Breathe. Anyway…the marketing of the cover athlete? Just. Freakin. Brilliant. Insane when you think about. But, also, brilliant. But that’s not my point. My point is that you can learn a lot these days about your team by your Madden cover candidate. You see, every team gets one. And your team’s representative can say a lot about your respective hometown heroes chances for the upcoming season.
In fact, next time you’re ready to complain about your team, just give yourselves the Madden test. In other words, just be glad you’re not the Raiders. Their candidate for the Madden 25 cover? Carson Palmer. If Vegas were to release its official odds and call 1000:1 on Carson, I’d believe it. At least my Jets have Revis. Sure, he’ll be gone by summer, but, for now, our Madden measure retains some level of dignity. Poor Oakland. This is the best you can do? Carson Palmer is your shining knight? I mean, I knew it was bad, but this bad? What happened to Darren McFadden? It’s going to be another long season the Black Hole.
About the Author: Cecilio's Scribe is the founder of The Legend of Cecilio Guante and a generally pessimistic fan of the Mets, Jets, Knicks and Rangers. A fine NYC-based gentlemen who hones his marketing skills as his primary trade by day. Husband, chef, father of a newborn and after-hours blogger by night. Proud alum of the mighty Big Red of Cornell. University. Hot sauce devotee. Staunch protester of the continued wussifcation of American sports. Sometimes I rhyme slow, sometimes I rhyme quick.