Your name is Gibril Wilson. You've just had a difficult season in 2009 with the Miami Dolphins.
You missed tackles to the point your pee-wee league coach called you to ask you what's wrong (true story). You didn't have an interception even though no less than four passes hit you in the hands throughout the season.
You temporarily lost your starting job midway through the season (for one game) only to regain the job but then lose it again the final game of the regular season. You had trouble in coverage. You had trouble communicating with the media to the point you seemingly gave up on the idea.
It was by any account a bad season because you know your new team -- the third you've played for in three seasons -- is considering dropping you like a bad habit to absolve itself of your toxic contract.
But, hey, it's Super Bowl Sunday. You're not playing but neither is there any pressure on you. It's a time to forget the worries of a terrible season. So you sit down like 100 million other people to watch the game. Maybe you're hanging with friends.Maybe you're hanging with family. It is a good time for everyone.
And then the game goes to a commercial and the one below comes on the tube. And, hey, midway through the commercial you recognize yourself. And you're not the hero in this commercial, in fact you're the goat. And you suddenly realize that 40 percent of the televisions turned on around the country just showed what your 2009 season was mostly about.
Question: How do you feel?
Is it fair or unfair?
And are you more mad at yourself for putting yourself in the situation you did? Or are you upset that the NFL basically called you out as a goat on the play?
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