Why did Michael Wilbon say the Patriots should forfeit their spot in the Super Bowl?

Probably NSFW?....

drawn by me

An ESPN executive stands in front of a seated crowd of over the hill athletes, beautiful women and pompous journalists.

ESPN executive: "The Super Bowl is approaching, I think you all know what this means. We need controversy."

The crowd nods in unison.

Executive: "Deflate-gate. Who here volunteers to say something ridiculous on air so we can milk that for content the next two weeks? Our SuperBowl game coverage depends on how we spin this story!"

The crowd of sell out hacks murmurs, each considering their personal dignity, but Michael Wilbon's voice rises above all.

"Me! Me! Me! I'll do it," Wilbon squeals, raising his hand. "Please! Pick me!"

Next, Wilbon is escorted out of the room and into a studio filled with flashing lights and innane graphics about Tim Tebow and Johnny Manziel. The ESPN exectutive leads him to stand before a camera. Standing next to Wilbon is the corporate overlord, Satan himself.

"We've done this song and dance before, Michael," Satan whispers into his ear. "You know what to do..."

Wilbon does. He is unsure of the laziest, most superficial things he can say about the New England Patriots and so he goes straight to the source. Wilbon gets on his knees, swallowing Satan's penis in hopes of inspiration. In between slurps of Satan's dong, he utters the words as compelled.

“The Patriots franchise is on probation as far as I’m concerned, [SLLLLLLLUUUURRRRRRRPPPPP] from Spygate,” Wilbon said on Monday’s show [Pardon the Interruption], according to NESN.com. “If you’re a cheater, and you’re a multiple time cheater, [SLLLLLLLUUUURRRRRRRPPPPP] I would say to the New England Patriots, [SLLLLLLLUUUURRRRRRRPPPPP] ‘You know what we’re going to do? If this is found to be true, like today, tomorrow, the next 72 hours, the next three days, [SLLLLLLLUUUURRRRRRRPPPPP] you know what? [SLLLLLLLUUUURRRRRRRPPPPP] You’re forfeiting your spot in the Super Bowl. [SLLLLLLLUUUURRRRRRRPPPPP] [SLLLLLLLUUUURRRRRRRPPPPP] We’re vacating it. Get out! You’re a cheater, [SLLLLLLLUUUURRRRRRRPPPPP] [SLLLLLLLUUUURRRRRRRPPPPP] you’re a lying franchise.’"

Suddenly a neverending cascade of $100 dollar bills erupt from Satan's cock, covering Wilbon and the ESPN executive present.

"It's working!" exclaims the executive, "Quick! We need to publish at least two columns, 50 tweets and five TV segments debating what he just said! Today!"

Wilbon reverts to his natural state as a corporate shill, getting down on the ground, on all fours, picking up as much cash as he can carry.

"Ha ha ha!!" Satan smiles, his eyes bright with hell fire, shining through a dense fog of falling Ben Franklins. "Soon enough, no one will even realize a game is going to be played in two weeks!"