It’s time for Drew Lock to get mad, really mad, at his doubters

Get mad, Drew. Get real mad. Because they think you’re trash. And they have no problem telling you.

Turn on the TV or look at your phone, and there’s someone new every day saying you need to be replaced. That you’re not good enough at your job to have your job. We need someone else. Matthew Stafford. Deshaun Watson. Kirk Cousins. Mitchell Trubisky. Jeff George.

Doesn’t seem to matter who, does it? They just want you gone.

So get mad, Drew. Get real mad.

Anyone who pays attention to actual football knows that a quarterback’s play depends on the entire offense. And if the offense is full of young players who don’t know where to stand, then the young quarterback will struggle along with them. That when that young offense is also deprived of practice time in the offseason, the struggles will be magnified, especially when playing against veteran teams who have already gelled.

Anyone who has watched the NFL over the years knows that a young quarterback on a young team needs more than two fragmented seasons to prove his worth. That you can’t judge a quarterback in a vacuum. And that his statistics depend on the movement of the entire offense, not just his right arm.

Anyone who knows football knows this. But still, they blame it all on you.

So what do you think about that, Drew? What do you say when you’re home alone and you hear another windbag calling for your head? A doughy thumb warrior who has never stepped into the fight. Who has never stood under center with the wind whistling through his ear hole and had to stare down a blitzing linebacker and deliver a strike on a slant right before being pile driven into the ground? What do you say to those guys?

Wait, don’t tell me. Keep it in. I only hope it is obscene and I hope you’re getting angry. Making lists. Adding to them every day. Putting pictures on darts boards and staying up late at night pacing back and forth in your basement with the blood of rage filling your fists, ready to unleash your demons on all of those who spite you.

Because here is the irony, Drew: The quarterback sweepstakes is a mirage. A distraction. A fake golden ticket. A shiny toy that prevents teams from addressing their real problems. Everyone wants a unicorn.

How did Kansas City’s unicorn fare on Sunday, by the way? Looked like a regular old quarter horse to me, getting stampeded by some wild stallions.

Point is, Drew, it’s very likely you’ll be back under center for the Broncos in a few short months, with at least the ability to win your starting job back. And I hope you’re like an elephant. I hope you don’t forget one solitary moment of all this crap. I hope you have a special place in your memory for everyone who has disparaged your name.

Every fan, every journalist, and, yes, every teammate. Whoever threw you under the bus, remember that forever. Don’t ever forgive them. Put it down there in the place where vengeance brews, and let it stew. And when you come back to work, instead of being everyone’s friend, you’re nobody’s friend.

“What happened to Drew?” they’ll ask, but they’ll know the answer. Something within you will have died.

That thing that was holding you back. That heavy, clunky idealism. The boy at the park who just wants to have fun with his buddies. The “Whatever, bro!” guy. He has to die so the new you can emerge. The one with armor. The one with steel in his eyes. The assassin.

You don’t have time for jokes anymore. The only joke will be on those who doubted you. Every Tom, Dick and Harry who have staked their name on calling you a bad quarterback will be exposed as frauds. Your success makes them failures.

How’s that for motivation?

So get mad, Drew. Get real mad.

Spite is a hell of a drug.

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