Denny Greens Returns From Suspension

I understand the severity of what I did and I take full responsibility for my actions.

I want the public to know that alcohol was not involved. What happened was an unexpected reaction to prescribed medications. I didn’t realize the mix of medications had affected me so strongly.

I would like to apologize with all my heart to my family, friends and the fans. I expect more from myself too.

I will do everything in my power to ensure this never happens again.

I fully cooperated with law enforcement, and I would like to personally thank the representatives of the Jupiter Police Department and the Palm Beach County Sheriff’s office for their professionalism.

Once again, I apologize to everyone who has been negatively impacted by my actions and incredibly poor judgment, in particular TradeThecardinals.com, our fans, and my family. I fully deserve and accept the punishment that has been issued. My goal is to do everything I can to grow from this personally and help others learn from my inexcusable behavior.

For most of my life, I’ve been a football Analyst, not a writer, so, you know, I really don’t know, you know, how to say what I really want to say.

You know, I understand it’s — it’s important or not important, you know, as far as what you say but how you say things. So, you know, I take this opportunity just to speak from the heart.

First, I want to apologize, you know, for all the things that — that I’ve done and that I have allowed to happen. I want to personally apologize to commissioner Goodell for our previous discussions that we had. And I was not honest and forthright in our discussions, and, you know, I was ashamed and totally disappointed in myself to say the least.

I want to apologize to all the young kids out there for my immature acts and, you know, what I did was, what I did was very immature so that means I need to grow up.

I totally ask for forgiveness and understanding as I move forward to bettering Denny Greens the person, not the football Analyst.

I take full responsibility for my actions. For one second will I sit right here — not for one second will I sit right here and point the finger and try to blame anybody else for my actions or what I’ve done.

I’m totally responsible, and those things just didn’t have to happen. I feel like we all make mistakes. It’s just I made a mistake in using bad judgment and making bad decisions. And you know, those things, you know, just can’t happen.

*Redacted* is a terrible thing, and I did reject it.

I’m upset with myself, and, you know, through this situation I found Jesus and asked him for forgiveness and turned my life over to God. And I think that’s the right thing to do as of right now.

Like I said, for this — for this entire situation I never pointed the finger at anybody else, I accepted responsibility for my actions of what I did and now I have to pay the consequences for it. But in a sense, I think it will help, you know, me as a person. I got a lot to think about in the next year or so.

I offer my deepest apologies to everybody out in there in the world who was affected by this whole situation. And if I’m more disappointed with myself than anything it’s because of all the young people, young kids that I’ve let down, who look at Denny Greens as a role model. And to have to go through this and put myself in this situation, you know, I hope that every young kid out there in the world watching this interview right now who’s been following the case will use me as an example to using better judgment and making better decisions.

Once again, I offer my deepest apologies to everyone. And I will redeem myself. I have to.

So I got a lot of down time, a lot of time to think about my actions and what I’ve done and how to make Deeny Greens a better person.

Thank you.

I feel that I owe an explanation for my recent absence that began after the Cardinals devastating loss to the Seahawks in week 6. I am still hearing colors at the time of this writing so please bear with me. Just like our short King failed to find the endzone that fateful Sunday, I failed to find the exit in whatever trapdoor I fell into at that Casino that day. I never intended to head to that Casino that day, hell I never intended to hang with Gracey and go to the game but destiny had a different plan for me. It all started the Saturday before the game when I was eating a Sweet Jalapeno Burger at my local Zipps and I matched eyes with none other than friend of the website, Mark Grace. Before I knew it Gracey was sliding into my booth with a pitcher of 805 and a tray of shooters complaining about how his dingbat ex-wife turned his kids against him. Although I don’t have any offspring that I know of (Maria if you’re reading this call me!!! 310-464-1078) I know a thing or two about dingbat ex-wives.

I told Gracey I was on a California Sober October and I couldn’t join him in his tray of shooters that he likely stole off the counter. Nonetheless Gracey and I chopped it up for hours that night, running up his tab like a 5th grader runs up a personal record in the pacer. Well past 2:00AM and surpassing lap 100 of our own pacer Gracey finally informed me why he was so upset at the beginning of the night. Unfortunately, Gracey had been banned off of both Uber and Lyft in 2020 and 2021, respectively, and in order to circumvent their controls on belligerent passengers Gracey made accounts in his childs name. And not just one of them, all of them. Because he was stealing his children’s identities, the Dingbat told their offspring who then discovered that he had already been suspended on 2 of the 6 youth accounts. They were so irate they decided they wouldn’t be driving him to the airport the next day nor would they be joining him on his trip to Seattle. I almost couldn’t believe the selfishness of Gracey’s family so I instantly volunteered to drive him down to sky harbor when he needed to take off. I asked him when we needed to leave our Zipps to make it there and he said just grinned and ordered a double mescal. I knew to be on my toes after seeing that shit eating grin and soon enough my instincts were proven correct as I was put into a headlock by Matthew Perry. Yes, former Friends star turned closet maniac turned friend of TradeTheCardinals.com, Matthew Perry. I don’t know how long Matthew Perry was doing blow in the bathroom but given I could his pulse through his arm around my neck I reckon it must have been over an hour.

Unfortunately, Gracey’s encouragement for the situation led to my loss of consciousness in which time M^2 loaded me into Perry’s Hummer. Although a simple hello would have been sufficient, that’s not why we hang out with Perry. Sure enough when I came to, there was an eighth of mushrooms stuffed into my cheeks making me look like mouth closed Kanye when he’s not on an antisemitic rant. Perry’s unique way of saying hello doesn’t win him a lot of friends but it’s always good to see him. Like I said I was on a California Sober October so the mushies were a welcome addition to the early morning before the big bird’s game. Another nice addition to the morning escapade was Perry’s new security detail which appeared to be two Ukranian women in the front seats clad in custom lingerie that included holsters and Kevlar that only Hunter Biden could have designed. Their accents would later confirm their ethnicity and their affiliation with the Azov Battalion fighting Russia would be confirmed by the emblems on the weapons in their holsters.

Headed to the airport to watch the Cardinals vs the Seahawks, watching the sunrise with the tingling sensation of mysticism that arises when the psilocybin begins settling into the brain and blissfully aware of the breasts jiggling with the imperfections in the road was one of the best moments of my life. I will always appreciate Perry for providing that to me.

But what followed was one of the worst moments of my life. I will never be able to look at Perry the same way after the events that transpired. I wasn’t exactly sure where we were or where we were headed but about 45 minutes later as Perry was saying something about a big advance and a book deal we pulled off a rough dirt road in Apache Junction and onto a tarmac where there were six vehicles in a half circle facing us. It was a menacing sight. I almost thought it was an amateur demolition derby when I saw the drones hovering nearby filming us and then the trucks speeding towards us as if they would ram the sides of the Hummer.

Have you ever had a moment in your life where you wonder if you are dead or alive? You begin wondering if you are dead and if so for how long? Has it been a few minutes, days, years? Perhaps this is some temporary version of hell or heaven? If there was a heaven, could you ever go down to hell for a field trip? Is that what this was? If it wasn’t, then why was there a demon walking towards the car and why was Perry passing Gracey a .357 Magnum and grabbing two more for himself?

Evidently when Gracey had said he needed a ride to the airport this was not what I had in mind. I thought that I would either drive Gracey or let him drive my Ford Bronco (he loves to drive past 2am when the streets are empty) and we would be off to watch the birds battle it out. Instead I found myself in the back of a Hummer after splitting a quad of shrooms with Gracey, riding with hot weapons and protected by Ukrainian women whose names loosely translated to “leaves no witnesses”, and now face to face with a man that most closely resembled Bane from The Dark Knight.

With icy breath stained with vodka and a hint of Copenhagen this man asked me through the open window me why I chose today to die. “Did you expect your first arms deal to be your last? Why did you come here today? When one is born in the darkness one learns to identify a rat with all the senses very quickly. And my rat senses are tingling.” Perry made eye contact with the man and didn’t move a muscle when he reached through the window and grabbed one of the magnums in his hands.

Ukranian Killers 1 and 2 got out of the hummer and popped the trunk for the mercenaries to come and unload the merchandise. With the mercenaries taking inventory to ensure they weren’t being scammed by Perry, the unknown eastern European man entered the passenger side of the Hummer with two guns drawn, Perry’s .357 Magnum’s in his left hand and a sawed off shotgun in his right. I have never seen a man fill a Hummer like that and I hope I never see one again. It was a terrifying sight. Worse than seeing Shamoo in the dolphin tank at Seaworld when there were repairs being done on the big tank.

Without turning around to look at Perry, Gracey, and myself lined up in the back of the hummer, the unnamed man began telling a story. This tale is not one that can be repeated in this forum, but after finishing the story the unnamed man grabbed his watch and handed it to Perry who then exited the vehicle avoiding all eye contact. Adjusting the rearview mirror so that he could look Gracey and I in our dilated eyes that looked like Black Lives Matters branded frisbees, the man grumbled in his thick eastern European accent, “And today this is your choice. Not every man is so fortunate to have this choice thrust upon them, but you gentlemen are no ordinary men. For those that survive it can be a blessing, if you suffer well” and he passed back a 1999 Smith & Wesson 460XVR. Capable of firing more than 2,000 feet per second the 460XVR is the highest muzzle velocity revolver ever produced.

“To live with your choice or to die without committing, choose wisely for nothing is ever promised tomorrow today” and he placed the revolver in Gracey’s trembling hand. I knew Gracey was terrified because I had only ever seen him shake like that when Jonah Coronado and I tricked him into rehab the first time. The three of us had watched enough Bollywood heist movies and Nicholas Cage remakes to know where we found ourselves. Having swallowed a lot worse than the muzzle of a revolver in his life, Gracey shakily lifted the firearm into his mouth like Michael J Fox smokes a cigar. The sound of the hammer pulling back will echo in my brain for eternity. Then

Click.

Silence.

Nothing.

No blood. No brains. No repercussions for the choice thrust upon him. Without saying a word the unknown man nodded at Gracey who was now smiling ear to ear with tears pouring down his face like Megan Rapinpoe learning that the women's revenue split was in fact the same as the men’s USA team. Were they tears of pain or joy? We still don’t know.

It seemed like an hour passed when I felt the weight of the revolver in my hand. All the things I may never do. The plays I may never call. The film sessions that may never occur. The players I may never coach. My ears still ringing with that empty *click* and almost mocking me saying, “you know the game, there is only one lame.”

“To live with your choice or to die without committing, choose wisely for nothing is ever promised tomorrow today.” Where had I seen that before I wondered as I looked to Gracey for confidence. Was it a bible verse? A childhood limerick? The under-tit tattoo on some Scottsdale bitty I picked up one drunken night? (Maria call me!) It was no use. Gracey couldn’t make eye contact with me, tears still pouring out of his eyes like he was a born again Christian falling back into his old vices. Should I turn the revolver on the unknown man? Were all the chambers empty? Were there rifles outside the hummer trained on me? None of this mattered. This wasn’t the choice thrust upon me and I recognized that. Unsure of where to potentially spray my brains I looked around and finally decided that should this moment be my last I wanted the early morning sun to be my last sight. Luckily, the hummer was facing southeast so I could make my last wish a reality. I turned to the sun and raised the muzzle to my mouth and as I built up the strength in my fingers I saw it. It was magnificent. The most magnificent thing I had ever seen. A bird. Not just any kind of bird.

A Cardinal.

There he was sitting on a branch, looking at me. Daring me.

A quick salute with his wing and he was gone.

Bang.

It was over. The force of the projectile was so strong that the creamy mixture shot down my throat and knocked me unconscious for the second time that morning. I would later learn that the creamy concoction was composed of Marten milk, Ukranian grain liquor, and CIA grade LSD and DMT

I don’t know how long I was out for but it couldn’t have been long because when I was woken up by Gracey’s crying and the unnamed man was still in the front seat of the hummer looking at me in the mirror. Within seconds of consciousness I could feel the affect of the LSD compounding with the penis envy large cap mushrooms I had eaten for breakfast and minutes later my vision was completely fractal. Then unnamed man, still observing me, lost his shape and turned into a large Ghastly and completed his full evolutionary process transforming into a Haunter and then a Gengar but with eyes made of fire and a smile of blades slimy with blood. Without using his voice he spoke to me, “nothing is ever promised tomorrow today. Good Morning.” With a nod he took back the 460XVR and exited the vehicle to discuss the quality of the cache with his team.

Without saying anything Gracey opened up the car door and began vomiting the booze from the night before and the large caps he had eaten earlier. I turned to look at him and got lost in his projectile vomit like it was a waterfall at Yellowstone complete with a double rainbow. I could distinguish between the 805, the liquor, and the blood in the air as it streamed from his throat. As it collected on the ground it pooled into one reservoir of regret and churned into a deep amazing shade of Copper.

“Does anyone want any 805?” Gracey jokingly asked as he slowly began to regain composure. I looked for Perry and saw 12 of him shaking hands with the eastern European man as our security detail slid back into the car. I looked at our Ukranian Killers and wondered what their body count was and if it was okay to ask that or if there were cultural differences that would lead to a problem. In the United States it’s appropriate to ask a woman what their body count is but not in the Ukraine. In the Ukraine if you ask a woman how many men they have killed the most common response is, “99 and I’m looking for 100.” I decided not to ask and looked to Gracey for guidance when I saw that he was shaking again and pulling out two Oculus Quest 3s from his Jansport backpack. Making eye contact with me for the first time since the unnamed man handed him the revolver, Gracey handed me the unreleased Quest 3 and haptic gloves saying in a quavering voice, “That is a sick game he plays. Take this. Trust me. It’ll help.” And so I Put on the headset and gloves to find myself able to see clearly, soaring through the Ukranian Eastern Front like a predator drone. Riding a large battle scarred Charcoal colored dragon named Josiah I could feel the pace of the battle elevating and new what to do with my companion who was getting warmer with the fire for battle. The instinct for war took over and with a kick of the heels my dragon erupted with the force of a volcano and lit aflame my biggest regrets in life which had been magically collected and assorted before me.

“To live with your choice or to die without committing, choose wisely for nothing is ever promised tomorrow today.”

Gracey was right. This could help.

Unable to find my voice I decided to explore this strange world with Josiah while Perry climbed back into the car speaking to the Ukranian women. “It looks like they’re both back there figuring things out. Lets go get more cash then get out of town.”

After soaring on Josiah for an hour and settling disputes across the contested badlands I felt the car coming to a rest and heard the brakes whining and decided to reacquaint myself with the real world. I took off the headset and looked out the window to see that we were in the parking lot of The Great Alaskan Bush Co Gentleman’s Club. I finally found my voice and asked the twelve Perrys, “Are we going to get strippers?” to which Perry replied, “Denny, you never get high off your own supply. We are just here to get more cash from the safe and then we’re out of here. It’ll take 120 seconds exactly. Time me!” True to his word Perry was in and out of the joint in the less than two minutes even after having taken a quick key bump evidenced by the residue on his nostril. Curious if Josiah was crusading without me, I decided to check back in on him while we commuted to our next destination. Besides, Perry looked like he needed a moment to collect himself.

Having stormed Constantinople seven times in the ride to our destination I was ready for a break but unprepared for the surprise that awaited me. Vee Quiva. An old nemesis. The last time we entered Vee Quiva my party was escorted out chanting, “They are who we thought they were” but given both Gracey’s and Perry’s high roller status I knew I wouldn’t have a problem getting in. I asked Gracey if I should leave the Quest 3 and he said, “Keep it Denny. There are demons in there and you may need them again.” Led by the Ukranian Killers we entered the Casino and were instantly recognized as high rollers and promptly escorted up to the higher, more accommodating floors.

My eyes were still in and out of fractal in the real world unlike in VR so as soon as we were settled I decided to have a more adventurous hand of poker in VR and entered an early civil war realm and flew into a confederate camp in the lower Appalachians to find a game of Hold Em to join. Within a couple minutes of strolling through the moonlit camp established near an unknown river I heard the twang of banjo chords and followed the noise to find a small shanty-esque tent with three tables in the middle where games were being played. The tables were shoulder to shoulder with dirt covered soldiers and littered with prostitutes clinging on to them like dandelion seeds waiting to be blown to their next partner. As I approached the table a woman clad in next to nothing slid her hand down the bulge in my overalls and asked me what my buy in would be. Maintaining eye contact with this Indian woman and wondering if we should just run away to Tucumari together that night, I slipped my Colt .45 out of its holster and slid it into her hand sweaty with desire. A gentleman across the table kicked a chair out on the other side and another dropped a bag of gold and silver coins in my corner and like that I found myself face to face with other players who may or may not have been real. To my left was a large Native American man with a dozen scalps dangling from a satchel engraved with his name, “Dances with Martens” and to my right there was a sinewy southerner spitting Levi Garret loose leaf chewing tobacco. With the beginning of a new song from the stringers in the corner my first hand begun.

After losing almost all of my virtual credits within nine hands I decided to check back in on the real world and see how Perry and Gracey were doing. When I took off my glasses I found that they had left me. All that was left was Gracey’s Jansport and Perry’s fanny pack with a note tied to it that said running an errand be back soon. Running an errand. Why he lied to me I don’t know. We all know what running an errand means at a casino. And so I waited. And waited. And waited, tripping off mushrooms, DMT, and LSD. Entering in and out of realty at will with the Quest 3 glasses.

After an unknown amount of time and my psychedelic experience continuing to increase in affect I decided to ask one of the call girls to take me to my friends. She responded with, “You must go east to reach the west but if you leave right now you'll certainly do best.” Unsure of what to make of that foreboding statement I grabbed the Jansport and Fanny pack and followed the call girl into an elevator and took another trip to an unknown story in the complex. Had my vision not been fractal I would have been able to see the buttons she had pressed but given my condition I was hopeless. Slowly the elevator crawled to a halt and with a baritone ding the doors opened for us. Before us was a dark empty room with no windows and no lights other than a lamp on a table with two half smoked cigars still simmering in the ashtray next to two empty lounge chairs. Shyly the call girl grabbed me by the hand and led me to the table and asked me if I needed anything else. “Where are Perry and Gracey?” I asked the twelve call girls in my vision. “They will be back when they are done with their errands. You can sit here and acquaint yourself with the Dragon’s Den. If you need anything you can hit your call button and someone will be in to service your desires. Remember, nothing is ever promised tomorrow today.” In the blink of an eye she was gone into the shadows of the room and I was alone at the table. Heeding her advice and acquainting myself with my new surroundings I started looking through the Jansport and then fanny pack and to no surprise I found the usual. In Gracey’s bag I found a pound of mushrooms crammed in with a handle of Mescal and in Perry’s pack I there were seven eight-balls of cocaine and three cannisters of Narcan. If they left these packs with me, where were they? Alone in this room I began to settle in and then I noticed my stomach pain. I hadn’t eaten since the Sweet Jalapeno Burger at Zipps the night prior and given the severity of the pains that must have been a long time ago. So I waited for Gracey and Perry. And waited. And waited. Alone during my California Sober October with nothing to eat except the mushrooms in Gracey’s bag I waited for them to return and that is where I will have to leave things for the time being.

Perry’s legal team has advised that this is all I should say on the events that transpired those four days in the Vee Quiva. I again want to apologize to the organization and my teammates here at Trade The Cardinals for the events that transpired that evening. Also I would like to thank Jonah Coronado for coming to the Casino and helping clean up the mess that occurred in Vee Quiva during that experience. I am happy to have served my two week suspension and I am excited to get back to work this week when we take on the Vikings. We are BACK.

PS Maria I still love you!