|Step away from the mic, please|
Look, I get that you're really not good with being de facto fired for what was, really, probably the first time in your life, and for no good reason at all.
But dude? This probably isn't going to be the last time this kind of thing happens. Very few people get through this world without running into a terrible manager or six. (Or, eventually, becoming one themselves. It's kind of like how badly parented kids become bad parents.)
When this happens to you, as hard as this road is to take... you need to go high road with it. For a bunch of good reasons, really, and not just because always doing the opposite of what Stephen A. Smith says has never been a bad idea for how to live your life.
Besides, every time you open up with the butthurt? It just becomes one more line in the entry in the Hard To Work With File, and that isn't a file you want to feed, especially when you are looking to supplement your lifetime earnings with those final years that are more or less only ever offered to Good Soldier types. (See the final years of Emmitt Smith in Arizona, which probably didn't do much for his brain, but added to the career numbers and bank account.)
More importantly... your own personal brand and ability to keep selling to folks in Philly is at risk if you go all Bitterly Dumped on your old fans. Nero isn't running off good black players; he's running off all good players who were here before he was, and if you don't believe that, hit up Evan Mathis sometime. Or anyone who is good enough to do just one thing, or command the market rate for his position.
Nero is probably doing this because (a) your clubs haven't won a playoff game during the Obama Administration, and (b) he thinks he can only win games that matter with guys he saw or played in college, because he's of those Clever Marks that have paid the bills of con artists since the Earth began. But that's neither here nor there. When you are freed from a Bad Manager, talking about the Bad Manager is just time spent looking in the rear view mirror, and there's never any money there. It might feel good to rip them a new one, and there will be any number of journos who are happy to fill their word hole with your butthurt... but none of it is helping you.
You are en route to a bust in Canton. Said bust will likely say Philadelphia on half or more of the lines. The people who show up to cheer you in Canton aren't all coming from Pittsburgh from your college career, and in ten to fifteen years, when whoever has the team after Jeffrey Lurie ends his reign of environmentally correct mediocrity, you're going to want to consent to a jersey retirement ceremony. There's no need to make things even more awkward on that day with Fletcher Cox, Jason Peters, and whoever else manages to have a career during the upcoming disaster.
Oh, and a word for soon to froth Eagle Fan, who is likely using every word of this to fuel an upcoming boo-fest for McCoy's visit to town with Buffalo in December? Like DeSean Jackson before him, there's a chance he might not be wrong on the merits. DeMarco Murray probably isn't going to be better than Shady was in 2014, especially behind an aging and unsupported offensive line. You don't have to just blindly root for the laundry when the laundry is circling the drain. This isn't clapping harder for Tinkerbell, folks. The club's going to lose whether you root hard for them or not.
So, Shady? Start reciting cliches. Maybe go for some new performance art, a la Marshawn Lynch, aka another guy who wound up being happier at NFL Spot #2. Ignore Nero. He'll be out of the league before you, and living well is the best revenge.