[Alvin Walton]

Son, we live in a world that needs wins. And those wins have to be guarded by men who hand out pain. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Tony Dungy? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Farve and you curse the DCs. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that Farves concussion, while tragic, probably provided wins. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves wins...You don't want the truth. Because deep down, in places you don't talk about at parties, you want those wins. You need me on that sideline.
We use words like honor, code, loyalty...we use these words as the backbone to a life spent producing wins. You use 'em as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of wins I provide, then questions the manner in which I provide it! I'd rather you just said thank you and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick you pick up some pads and get on the field. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you're entitled to!