Colin Kaepernick’s agent Jeff Nalley has fired back at Warren Sapp for claiming that his Raiders workout was a disaster! Jeff isn’t okay with Warren over that claims and he had to fire back!
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Hall of Fame defensive tackle Warren Sapp caused quite the stir when he recently dropped some inside information on quarterback Colin Kaepernick.
Said Sapp of the Kaepernick’s Raiders workout, “I heard it was a disaster. I heard one of the worst workouts ever.”
Kaepernick’s agent, Jeff Nalley, has now fired back at his claims.
“I guess Warren didn’t talk to the General Manager or the head coach,” Nalley told PFT via text message. “I spoke to the G.M. [Dave Zieger] several times and he said they all thought Kap was in great shape and threw the ball really well and encouraged any team to call him about the workout and he would tell them the same. I’m surprised Warren would say that, because it’s not true and you would think he would want Kap on a team.”
Kaepernick worked out with the Raiders last month, and it appeared an NFL comeback was imminent. The Raiders were reportedly impressed with Kaepernick’s arm strength and conditioning, and the team considered the workout a “positive” sign.
The Raiders likely aren’t signing Kaepernick but it looks like Sapp as usual was just talking out of his a**.
Sapp predicts that he won’t last beyond midnight—but then at halftime, around 10 p.m., he announces we’re relocating.
“We need to get some a– in your face,” he says.
Sapp orders a vodka soda, gets me a gin and tonic, and surveys the scene. Twenty bucks for a dance, he informs me—but for $150, he says, there’s more to be had.
Sapp seems happy to have a reporter around, a platform to voice his opinions again. Earlier, in his car, he waxed poetic on current events, from the U.S. President (“You wake up now and ask, ‘Is this motherf—– going to start a war?’ ”) to VP Mike Pence (“His bible must burn up when he puts his hand on it at night”) to Colin Kaepernick (“Any time the s— you bring [exceeds] your talent, you’re out of here”).
Our drinks arrive, and Sapp calls a girl over, offering her $100 to dance for me. He’s trying to play host, maybe curry favor. (Full disclosure: I do buy a dance, but I use my own money.) Later on I notice he hasn’t gotten a dance himself. “They’ve got hidden cameras [in the back room], I swear,” he explains. His eyes widen. “They’ll blackmail you if you’re the right person.”
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