Thread by @MikeWiseguy

I was just told by someone I implicitly trust that I was mentioned in a 2014 email by Bruce Allen. And it was ugly, the worst thing anybody’s ever said about me. And half of it I’m sure is true. If a more intrepid reporter than me can get a copy, please, I’d like to frame it.

I could go off on Bruce for stooping so low he and Dan anonymously shamed a recovering alcoholic to get rid of him. That a guy who accused others of drinking on the job could empty half of cooler of beer in his office by 3. “Bruce gets up and brushes his teeth with Coors Light,”

a former assistant coach with Washington once told me. I could tell you about the time a former defensive coordinator told a colleague of mine, “Bruce Allen was born on third base and hasn’t taken a damn foot off it his whole life.” I could tell you how he walked up to a

National Congress of American President at a social function and said, “All right, enough with the you-guys-are-offended crap. How much is this going to cost us to fix?” because if anyone knows about buying someone’s dignity or silence it’s that punk kid of George Allen’s.

I could tell you all the bad moves he made and how when anyone got close to Snyder, Bruce made sure he Game-of-Thrones’s them before he lost his own power and influence. But now that another New York Times story has come detailing further what a rotten human being Allen is, I’m

gonna let sleeping dogs lie. I mean, does it get more damning than this: “For nearly a decade, the president of the Washington Football Team sent emails to a friend in which he casually joked about Native Americans and racial and political diversity,..

..:griped about referees and league initiatives to improve player safety, and arranged tickets and perks for his correspondent. He also thanked the man for getting a fine lifted and for understanding the team’s thorniest troubles.” That friend? Only the lead lawyer for the NFL.

Bruce Allen and, ostensibly, Dan Snyder, once again show they have no bottom:

nytimes.com/2021/10/14/spo…

I’m gonna close with what I consider maybe my proudest moment in Washington Post newsroom: A combative Bruce comes to meet with all the big cheeses and lowly sports losers in the big conference room, circa 2014. We thought he was there to break bread, reduce the tension…

…between the paper and the team. But no. Bruce wanted to settle scores, air grievances. It got ugly. Finally, I said, “Bruce, it’s nice of you to come. But why didn’t Dan come too?” Bruce, seated right across the table from me, throws me a death stare. Fury is in his pores.

“You think I’m gonna bring the owner of the team that you called a cretin in print in here!?” Me: [long pause, throat swallow while Big Cheese Marty Baron and the room turns it gaze on me.

Finally, I lean forward: “That’s not true, Bruce. I didn’t call Dan a cretin. I called you a cretin.” I can see his face now in my mind’s eye, ready to murder me at my place of work. God, I miss the Post.