League of Extra Ordinary Quarterbacks

An All-New, All-Different Giant-Sized Special about the Strangest Heroes of All! Hang onto your hats, True Believers!

What’s this? The NFL’s toughest defenders scheming to take back the league!? The young quarterbacks defeated!? The elite quarterbacks with their backs to the wall!? This is no alternate universe, bad dream or “What If?” tale, True Believers: this is the honest-to-Pete Earth-611 continuity! So buckle up for a bumpy ride as some forgotten heroes try to rise to the occasion in the type of tantalizing tale only the Too Deep Zone can deliver!

Chapter I: Fall of the Titans

(In the subterranean lair of the Legion of Defensive Doom, a figure in a black-and-gold hooded robe steps to the head of the conference table.)

T.J. WATT: Dear brothers in ultra-violence, the quarterbacks have grown too wealthy. Too arrogant. Why, they send mere children to face us! Now it is time to take football back for the defense, once and for all. 

VARIOUS OTHER BIG-NAME DEFENDERS: Huzzah!

WATT: Let us begin by defeating the Almost Teen Titans.

(Days later, in Denver)

BO NIX: Sideways pass. Sideways pass. Say, this ain’t so hard! Sideways pass …

WATT: Behold the fury of the Steel Curtain!

NIX: Ha! You cannot harm me! The ball is only in my hand for one-tenth of a second before I toss it six feet into the flat.

WATT: Fool. You don’t appreciate the full measure of my might. Behold the Percussion Attack!

(Watt, still several feet away from Nix, claps his hands, sending shockwaves in all directions.)

NIX: Oh no. Mild air turbulence! I am losing my balance! I have fallen!

(Meanwhile, in Houston)

CALEB WILLIAMS: I am the Next Big Thing. I have already achieved perfection. I have nothing to fear from some old-fart late Millennials.

DANIELLE HUNTER: Hey kid, this old-fart late Millennial would like to tap-dance on your spleen if that’s OK.

CALEB: Eek. Must run left. No, right. No, left again. No, I shall just heave the football as far as possible! That always worked in the Pac-10! An interception? But how?

(A former Almost Teen Titan watches with dismay from the opposite sideline.)

C.J. STROUD: Impudent as that Caleb lad may be, he suffers in large part due to comparisons to me. I must serve as a role model. Let me just …

REFEREE: False start.

STROUD: OK, I’ll just …

REFEREE: Holding.

STROUD: Dammit! I’m this close to joining the Just Us League!

(Meanwhile, in Tennessee)

WILL LEVIS: OK Levis, you got this. Just spread the ball around to all your veterans and there’s a nice tuna club with sides of potato salad and coleslaw waiting for you on the post-game buffet.

WILL MCDONALD: Boo.

LEVIS: Yikes! Take the ball! Take my car keys! Here’s a free touchdown!

MCDONALD: Damn, he threw that ball so far backwards that Haason Reddick nearly caught it.

(Meanwhile, in Brazil)

JORDAN LOVE: My Love Sense tells me that the other young quarterbacks are in jeopardy. Let me just machete through this rainforest. Done! Now to navigate this crime-infested city. Actually, this city is actually rather nice. I gotta stop watching cable news on the treadmill. Done! Now to just cross this fetid swamp. Wait … this is the playing field? Oh no, here comes the Eagles defense! YOWWWWCH.

(Meanwhile, in Charlotte)

BRYCE YOUNG: The other young quarterbacks are dropping like flies. Well, no young quarterback is more like a fly than me! I will just use the white-dwarf star in my belt buckle to shrink even smaller. I can travel at light speed when I am subatomic, then grow back to my robust normal height for an average adult male in the end zone.

Here we go. Shrinking. Shrinking … (disappears into quantum oblivion, never to be seen again).

Chapter II: Just Us League No More

(Back at Legion of Defensive Doom Headquarters)

MYLES GARRETT: Your plan has worked so far, T.J. But young quarterbacks are easy to neutralize. The veterans will take more effort.

WATT: Do you dare doubt me, fool? I have enlisted the help of some powerful allies.

(In Kansas City)

JOE BURROW: Did someone say “upset?” Crack open the humidor, fellas. This game is over.

JA’MARR CHASE: Sure thing, Blondie. Right after I give this m*****f*****g referee a piece of my m*****f*****g mind over that m*****f*****g hip-drop tackle he didn’t call.

BURROW: No! You are just mad that Mister Brown can’t pay you because he spent so much money on … other stuff. Don’t tick off the refs at Arrowhead …

REFEREE: Unsportsmanlike conduct, Bengals. Pass interference, Bengals. Gift-wrapped victory, Chiefs.

BURROW: Drat!

(In Philly)

JALEN HURTS: We have the lead. We have the ball in the red zone. The Falcons are out of timeouts. And Jason Kelce AND Nick Foles are here for extra-positive mojo. This ballgame’s in the bag.

NICK SIRIANNI: You are right, Jalen. Just run two tush-pushes to ice the clock and let’s get out of here.

KELLEN MOORE: No, let’s throw the ball.

SIRIANNI: (In Moore’s face) Tush push!

MOORE: (In Sirianni’s face) Risky, potentially-clock stopping passing play!

HURTS: Sorry, Coach Nick. Mr. Lurie said I am supposed to listen to that guy now. So instead of our signature, high-percentage play …

SAQUON BARKLEY: Whoopie doodle!

MOORE: (to Sirianni) Imma blame you for this when I interview for my next job.

(In Baltimore)

DERRICK HENRY: Don’t worry, Lamar. I heard about what is happening to the other quarterbacks. But I’ve got your back. It’s third-and-short in the fourth quarter, we have the lead, and a first down wins the game. It’s King Henry time!

LAMAR JACKSON: Truss.

JOHN HARBAUGH: Hey guys, I have a great feeling about the next play. Let’s run our own version of the Tush Push with Isaiah “One Foot Out of Bounds” Likely taking the snap. What could possibly go wrong?

LAMAR JACKSON: Truss?

HENRY: And there’s a false start. Sheesh. The defenders now have one of the Harbaugh brothers in their pocket? That can only mean …

(In Los Angeles)

JUSTIN HERBERT: Wow, the Legion of Defensive Doom found ways to neutralize Lamar, Jalen, Burrow and Stroud? That means it’s finally true: by literal process of elimination, I really AM one of the NFL’s elite quarterbacks!

JIM HARBAUGH: Here’s your gameplan, Pretty Boy.

HERBERT: This … is nothing but handoffs. Can’t I even have my traditional one heroic moment per game?

HARBAUGH: Power running is the real heroism.

HERBERT: I’m sorry, what the hell is that even supposed to mean?

(Our scene shifts to the Hall of Just Us Franchise Quarterbacks in Metropolis.)

JOSH ALLEN: Holy hardship, Patrick! We are running out of allies.

PATRICK MAHOMES: Indeed. I am doing everything I can to keep you and I safe. I even changed the password on Brittany’s Instagram account, just in case. Let’s try reaching out to Stafford.

(With the press of a button, an image of Matthew Stafford appears on the viewscreen of the Pat-Computer)

MATTHEW STAFFORD: (Eyes wide with horror) So alone. So very alone.

JOSH ALLEN: Holy unprecedented injury rash! They got to him, too!

MAHOMES: (to a shrouded, helmeted figure lurking in the corner) Aaron, is there anything you can do?

AARON RODGERS: I see things beyond the realm of human perception. They compel me not to intervene.

MAHOMES: Damn it you weirdo. That’s not the Helmet of Fatalism. You are wearing an old spittoon from a Cairo brothel on your face. A tchotchke vendor saw you coming a mile away.

RODGERS: Your words are mere ripples across the surface of space-time.

(Suddenly, after a burst of static and a flicker of lights, a sneering figure appears on the Pat-computer screen).

T.J. WATT: Greetings, Dynamic Dodos! The Legion of Defensive Doom will accept nothing but your unconditional surrender.

MAHOMES: We aren’t licked yet.

WATT: Bah! Who will you send to defeat us? And don’t say Dak Prescott. No one’s buying that.

MAHOMES: (Posing heroically) Buffalo Wonder, call in the League of Extra Ordinary Quarterbacks.

ALLEN: Well, I would rather be beaten with a crowbar. But here goes nothing. (Pushes tiny white button in the furthest corner of the console).