"Hell may have no fury like a woman scorned but heaven hath no sweetness like a sports fan vindicated." - Samcat

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Touchdown Robots

(Photo from Boston.com)

I'm sorry, but can you just look at Junior Seau's arms in that picture? That's ri-goddamn-diculous.

Anyway, Wes Welker has evidently decided he's going to help out my fantasy team since no one else is going to, New Orleans. But honestly, I couldn't possibly care less about that. I want to win the real games. And I'm not gonna lie to you, it was touch and go for a while there today.

I ventured out to the Sports Depot to watch the game with Greta as her Ravens were on at the same time and we managed to get a prime spot right between two TVs showing both the Pats and the Ravens. Now, those of you who have never watched a Patriots game with me don't really understand what a big step this was for me. But I am not, shall we say, usually fit for public consumption on Sundays during football season. It's part nerves, part insane, irrational fear and part the fact that I just get really, really mean and usually can't stop myself from saying something uncalled for regarding Peyton Manning's lineage or the hygiene of Steelers fans. I can't help it. It's football. Something happens to me. I totally lose my appetite and start looking for things to destroy. And today, before the Pats decided to play defense, things weren't pretty. Greta actually had to remove all sharp objects from the table and I was reduced to picking at my Cobb salad with a drinking straw.

I mean, I can't even keep alcohol down when football things aren't going my way. It's bad.

Thankfully, things turned around and Tom Brady, in and amongst dink and dunk passes to the likes of Welker and Gaffney, seemingly remembered "Oh, right, Randy Moss is on my team now. Awesome," and started throwing bombs his way. Which, I mean, ridiculous. I called my brother during the first quarter and demanded that someone return my football team. And then I called him during the fourth quarter and he just answered the phone with a, "Duuuuuuuude. Come on. Randy Moss? Tom Brady? Come on." And you know what? He's right.

My friend Chris and I were discussing Brady's obvious delight in having Moss to throw to this year and Chris commented that one of Brady's touchdown passes to Moss was "Manning-esque." He was under the impression that I was going to eviscerate him for that comment but I calmly explained that I have never argued that Peyton Manning is not an outstanding quarterback. I've just said that, in my opinion, Brady had done more with less. But this season, he's got a freakin' Madden '08 lineup out there. It's gonna be fun. Please don't think that I am claiming that Tom Brady is underrated. That would be nonsense. But I actually did have a Colts fan tell me that he believed that the Colts have operated "under the radar" for the previous few seasons. I think he was serious. Evidently, this gentleman does not live in the world where Peyton Manning is in every commercial either throwing touchdown passes to himself, acting out John Mellencamp's godforsaken "This is our Peyton" music video or trying to sell me a cable TV package. That must be a nice world. I'd like to visit some day.

But this is not about Peyton Manning. This is about the Patriots. I don't know what happened about halfway through the second quarter when suddenly, something clicked and the Pats started playing like Super Bowl favorites, but I was certainly glad for it. Despite the fact that all the TV talking heads tried their absolute best to jinx the Pats before the game by talking about them possibly going 16-0 this season, the Pats continue to not believe the hype. One hopes.

And yes, I still believe the Patriots can be jinxed. I've been a Red Sox fan my whole life.

Speaking of the Red Sox: playoffs, yay. It's not that I'm not happy about that. I obviously am. But I don't want to back into this. I want the division. We've had it all season and I would like to keep it. I did, however, see my future at the Sports Depot today. At the table next to us, two 60ish-year-old women, clearly best friends, kept checking the Red Sox score while reporting back to Greta and I. We discussed our usual love for the Tampa Bay bullpen among other things and I was just struck by how awesome these women are. I figure, if I make it to my mid-sixties (without being arrested for doing something untoward to a Jets fan at a sports bar) and I spend my fall Sundays watching Sox and Pats games with my friends, things could be a lot worse.

Now, if you'll excuse me, Greta and I have to go plan the Bon Jovi/Snoop Dogg Bill Belichick Freedom Concert.