Every year on the Monday after the last Sunday of the regular season, the NFL unofficially holds its annual (seemingly drunken) firing fest as the wise people who hired all these apparently inept people in the first place, conclude at once not that they made horrible hiring decisions. And yet, oddly enough, the league seems to do little to capitalize on all this inherent drama.

It seems more than a bit odd that, according to a probing piece in The New York Times, players do not protect those delicate, tender, highly sought-after jewels. Seriously, though: no cups? That's astonishing. I mean, they wear equipment to protect every other area. Why be more protective of the kidneys than the cookies? More protective of the noggin than the nuggets?

The National Football League has reached the halfway point of the 2012 regular season. It affords self-proclaimed "NFL Insiders" an ideal opportunity to rationalize why all their pre-season predictions are miles off the mark, and to make brand-spanking new bold, brash, altogether insightful, and just-as-inaccurate predictions for the second half of the season.

Okay, so the NFL replacement refs are terrible. Missed calls everywhere. Questionable holding penalties that have decided games. Let's be real here: as awful as it's been, it's always been terrible. How many years have you sat on your couch and screamed at the TV because those Foot Locker employees missed an obvious penalty? How terrible are referees, in general, and across all sports?

How can it be, I wondered, that the largest, most vibrant city in Canada has difficulty getting a professional team into the playoffs, much less winning all the marbles?

Not only could you guarantee the NFL that all of Ontario would be behind you, and not only would you lap up a significant portion of Canadians that would root for the country's only NFL team, but you're talking about putting an NFL franchise in a city that accounts for one seventh of its entire country.

Sundays are a new time, a new kind of day. God was once God. Now, God is Aaron Rodgers, or Adrian Peterson, or Ray Rice. In my occasion, I have to put holy faith into Rice. He was my first pick, after all.

Harrison lays into the NFL Commissioner, his opponents, and even his teammates in the August issue of Men's Journal, and now he has to be ready to deal with the consequences, whether they come from his own locker room or, more likely, the league head office.