Kirk Cousins bought all of his teammates Tommy Bahama shirts for some reason

It’s fairly standard for a quarterback to buy his teammates some sort of gift at the end of the season. Maybe it’s getting the offensive line nice watches. Perhaps it’s taking everyone out for an extravagant meal. Washington quarterback Kirk Cousins went a different route by buying everyone Tommy Bahama shirts in what might be the worst teammate gift ever.

The problems with buying football players Tommy Bahama shirts are plentiful. A watch can be hidden. A meal consumed — but a shirt puts pressure on the giftee to wear the thing, which is why we’ll never see DeAngelo Hall in one again.

There are two places a Tommy Bahama shirt are acceptable:

Let me expand on that second one. There is only one time in my life I’ve worn a Tommy Bahama shirt and the experience of wearing the shirt itself was fine. I give it 6 Jimmy Buffets out of 10 parrots.

Anyway, I’m asked to be in this wedding and I don’t really know why — but you can’t really say “Hey, I don’t want to be a groomsman” — especially when it involves family. My wife’s cousin was getting married, I didn’t know the groom super well and it was a beach wedding. I get instructions to go to Men’s Wearhouse (as you do) to get my clothes and when I arrive I’m told we won’t be renting anything — we’ll be buying them.

In my head I’m thinking “This might be a little cheaper than expected.” Oh HELL NO IT WASN’T! So I’m supposed to buy these Calvin Klein linen pants and a pastel Tommy Bahama shirt because it’s a fun beach wedding, get it?

When you’re a husky gentleman like myself this ensemble never, ever looks good. Ever seen a fat man sweat through linen? I looked like Elliott Gould in Ocean’s Eleven but without the promise of millions of dollars at the end.

I head to the checkout and this stupid friggin’ shirt and pants ring up to $245. TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY FIVE DOLLARS. I don’t really splurge on clothes, but when I do it better not be for some cheeseburger in paradise bullshit that makes me look like the kind of man who uses the proceeds of his Ponzi scheme to buy an ice sculpture of himself at a lavish party in St. Lucia.

Midway through the reception I spilled beer on myself and everyone saw my nipples. The whole experience sucked.

The shirt and pants were consistently creased. Annoying to iron and spent three years in my closet before I finally gave them to Goodwill.

F*** those pants. F*** that shirt and f*** any quarterback who thinks it’s a good idea to gift either to his players.