What a waste of amazing talent and breathable air. This dude is likely to end up a lonely, broken old man.
Before the clock ticked zero, McCoy slipped into the southeastern tunnel at Lincoln Financial Field with nary a nod to his former teammates, turning the corner into the hallway in the belly of the stadium with a steely rage. Eagles fans rained boos on the team’s all-time leading rusher, just as they had when he was introduced as the Bills’ lone captain before the game.

He walked down the hall, turned left into the visiting locker room, and peeled off his helmet, launching it, full force, into a wall near the gray metal container marked with a laminated piece of paper that read “25” in blue-and-red block font.

When he returned to his locker after a shower, McCoy was no more pleased. A horde of reporters, most familiar, a few auxiliary, turned their collective heads as he approached in nothing but lime green underwear.

“Y’all about to watch me dress?”
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