Many people find Latrobe, Pennsylvania's finest export disgusting. Not me, and certainly not Rob Ryan.
And do you want to fuck with Rob Ryan? Didn't think so. So quit badmouthing Rolling Rock. It's delicious. The New York Times today had a feature on Ryan, who has completely overhauled the New Orleans Saints' defense, becoming a folk legend in the process. After each home game, Ryan heads to a popular watering hole, Mae's, and gets the same order. It's now my favorite bar order.
Ryan had his usuals, [The bar's managing partner said] “Two Rolling Rocks and a bag of chips — Zapp’s — and I think he sneaks in a shot of Irish whiskey, too.”
Who eats chips at a bar? Granted, Zapp's are a tasty chip, but still. Is that not the weirdest thing you've ever heard? That is a workin' man's meal. Two Rolling Rocks. Rob Ryan would have fit right in in coal country, that's for sure. But he also said he's at home in the Big Easy.
“I love New Orleans; it’s an awesome city,” Ryan said after a recent practice. “I think this town appreciates normal, hardworking people, so maybe I am a good guy.”