It's common knowledge that the word "fan" is short for "fanatic." These "fans" go to great length to emulate their heroes on the field. They wear their favorite player's number, their favorite team's sweatshirt; they may even go so far as to paint their house the colors of the local Pro Team. But, some people take the affinity for their favorite team a bit too far. You wonder what the hell they were thinking.

Did you ever see a balding 45-year-old man with a beer gut wear a Kobe Bryant jersey? Did you ever see that same guy wear a Kobe Bryant jersey with no undershirt? You'd swear there was a full moon out.

There was one guy who loved the Chicago Bears so much, he bet if the Bears didn't win the Super Bowl he would change his name to Peyton Manning. I vote he changes his middle name to Dumbass.

In my opinion, the most flagrant of all fanaticism was made by a very famous woman. I can understand the average person wanting to be like one of the heroes of the gridiron-they have their 9-5 job, living paycheck to paycheck, so they need a little excitement in their lives-but when you are revered by millions, have a successful career, and are still in your 20s, then I think there is no excuse for your behavior.

To what I am referring is, of course, Britney Spears' almost cult-like desire to look like the Super Bowl winning coach, Tony Dungy.

The proof, as they say, is in the pudding (see pic above). What's next, plastic surgery?

So, you're sitting at your desk at work reading this. As you look around your cube farm and ruminate over your co-workers' habits, histories and home-life, ask yourself how many times do you think those regular shmoes with whom you work everyday, day in and day out, can-

Be arrested?
Assault someone?
Be shot at?
Give alcohol to minors?
Be involved in a stabbing?
Run over a parking enforcement official?
Be implicated in date rape?
Have sex with a babysitter?
Take things that don't belong to them?
Have an arsenal of weapons in their trunk?
Take a nude drive through their favorite fast food restaurant?
Solicit a prostitute?

-without being fired by your company?

Everything I listed above has been done by an NFL player on various teams, at one time or another. Sometimes, the offender has done multiple things on this list.

The ratio of NFLers in trouble with the law to the rest of the population in any given work environment in corporate America is way out of proportion. Think about how many players are involved in off-field altercations in relation to the co-workers on your team. With the exception of the guy over the wall from me who Xeroxed his ass at the office Holiday party, I can safely say I don't know anyone within shouting distance that has either total disregard for the law, or luck that bad, where they are consistently in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The most recent player in the news-which shows you that even though one is not actually involved in an alleged crime, when it comes down to it, NFL players seem to be quite magnetic-is Patrick Kerney, now the DE for the Seattle Seahawks. He was sleeping in his house while a date rape was going on. SLEEPING! He either has a freaking huge house where he needs a bus to go to the bathroom, or his waterbed was filled with ether for him not to hear anything going on.

And, what about the alleged perps? How horny do you have to be? I don't think I would want to force myself upon a woman who has Patrick Kerney sleeping in the next room.

I have a lot more to say on the subject but, I have to go now. My boss wants to talk to me about his missing stapler.

I read the news today, oh, boy. The defensive free agents this year are making a goddamned killing.

I know what you're thinking-"These contracts are just for show, the players could be cut at any time with no remuneration. Just look at Drew Bledsoe's non-existent $100 million contract." Ok maybe you wouldn't use the word "remuneration," but, I just want to say that the current trend proves otherwise.

Atlanta Falcons DE Patrick Kerney has signed with the Seattle Seahawks for $19.5 million in guaranteed money.

Joey Porter agreed to play for the Miami Dolphins for five years for $32 million with $20 million guaranteed.

And, good ol' Nate Clements, the highest paid defensive player in league history, signed with the San Francisco 49ers for $80 million with $22 million guaranteed.

Is this insane to anyone but me? This may be big business, but let's get real-it's still just a fucking game. Can anyone tell me what other professions could actually be worth getting $20 million? How about cancer researchers? Bridge builders? NASA scientists? How about neuron-surgeons? Hell, Jonas Salk found a cure for polio and he probably couldn't have gotten aboard the Minnesota Vikings' Love Boat.

All I'm saying is let's put this in perspective. Don Maynard, the Super Bowl III wide receiver who helped the New York Jets win the title in 1969, played for $7600 in his rookie year with the New York Giants. He, along with many other players at that time, had to work second jobs in the off season to make a decent wage. Maynard, a college graduate, made $8600 being a plumber when he wasn't wearing his number 13 jersey. Imagine that? A plumber making more than a wide receiver. Ahh, those were the days.

Chris Deilman left $10 million on the table to re-sign with the San Diego Chargers. A lot of people are touting this guys ethics. "Kudos for staying with the team and not going for the money!" they shout. Hello? He is still making $39 million-and he isn't even the quarterback.

All this talk of people making millions playing a kid's game is making me a little ill. There are regular, every-day people out there with regular, everyday problems. I know, I'm one of them. I have to go now because I'm taking out a second mortgage to get the Roto-Rooter guy to come fix my leaking toilet. I hope it's Don Maynard-maybe I could get an autograph.

It is starting to make me ill. No, not the BBC dramedy-actual NFL player's wives. What is it with these women? Are they all delusional? The answer may surprise you.

Last year, New York Giants DE Michael Strahan's widely-publicized and bitter divorce set a precedent for the insanity of our legal system. Strahan's wife was awarded $15 million in her divorce decree. And that's with a goddamn prenup! Why the hell she is entitled to all that cash is beyond me. Like I heard many times growing up, "It's not what you know, it's who you blow." And, apparently, the attorney you show.

The latest player in the news with a soon-to-be messy divorce is another Giants player, oddly enough, WR Amani Toomer. His wife allegedly refuses to bear his children. He knocked her up four times and each time she had an abortion. You would think he'd learn after the first two but, as you know, these wide receivers tend to get hit in the head a lot so their judgment may be impaired.

If she had not wanted to become pregnant with his children-something he should have been aware of BEFORE saying, "I do"-there were plenty of other things she could have done to minimize or alleviate any possibility of that happening. Swallowing comes to mind.

After much deliberation and research, I have finally figured out the catalyst. The one thing, which the media seems to overlook, or just may not have mentioned, is that these postconnubial battles have one common denominator. His name: Tom Coughlin. All these marital troubles seemed to have started under Coughlin's watch. Coincidence? I don't think so.

If I were a wide-eyed player working at the combine, waiting for pro day, and looking forward to the draft, I would be scared shitless if the Broncos took a liking to me.

With all respect to Darrent Williams' and Damien Nash's families, the fatality rate for a Broncos' player is so freaking high, given the choice, it makes being Osama Bin Laden's food taster a most desirable career move.

Adam Carriker, the DE from Nebraska had a great Senior Bowl. His stock has risen so high, he is now on the radar to be taken by the Broncos with the 21st overall pick. If nothing changes between now and draft day, I think I'll pay a pre-emptive shiva call to Adam's family. I'll bring a nice bundt cake.

Lately, along with the bad decisions made by current starters (Pacman Jones and Tank Johnson come to mind), death has been an increasing factor in the NFL and the people it touches-Tony Dungy's son, LaDanian Tomlinson's father, Brett Favre's brother-in-law, Art Shell's coaching career-all these things add up to a league that's had more tragedy than elation.

Death is the one thing that's out of our hands as human beings. When the time comes, there is no way to say to the guy behind you, "You can go ahead of me; I'm waiting for my wife to come out of the bathroom."

Be it watching their son run with a ball, watching their dad coach a division leader, or knocking down passes from future hall-of-famers, it is my contention that living your life doing what you love to do, no matter the risk, is much more fulfilling than vocational complacency.

Just don't do it in Denver.