Filthy

Filthy mouth. Dirty mind. Messy past. I'm no saint, and I hear my reputation precedes me, but you can't believe everything people say. I've made a living playing by the rules only when the clock is ticking, the ball has been snapped, and I'm cleat-deep in AstroTurf. But I screwed up last year. I went too far with the girls and the partying and the benders, and I created a PR sh*t storm for my team in the process. As a result, the team owner sentenced me to live in some gated, Floridian reti...