Why They Play the Game

There’s always something on the line.  Like, your job, for one thing.

That's the List

It makes me a little crazy (crazier?) when I hear an announcer say, “The way to beat Tom Brady is…” or “The way to beat Aaron Rodgers is…” when what they are really saying is, “The way to beat any great quarterback is…” because they always come up with the same list.

It Comes Around

It’s become something of a Christmas tradition for me to find a football book under the tree.  “The Education of a Coach” by David Halberstam, “Moving the Chains” by Charles Pierce, Michael Holley’s “Patriot Reign” and this year Holley’s “War Room.”  (If there are books about Rex Ryan and Mark Sanchez I am blissfully unaware of them.)  Light reading compared to something like “Team of Rivals” (another Christmas book) but perfect for that week of downtime between Christmas and New Year’s.

Schot Through the Heart

Perhaps I’m enjoying this too much.  Certainly, I’m enjoying it too early.  Despite the complex scenario required for their post-season survival, until I hold my finger to the neck of the Jets corpse and fail to detect a pulse, stuff garlic in the mouth, cut off the head, salt and burn the body, I will continue to picture J-E-T-S, Jets, Jets, Jets running out the tunnel from the visitors’ locker room at Gillette Stadium for a playoff game with the Patriots.  Having said that, the Jets loss to the Giants in the Battle of New Jersey is almost too delicious not to savor.  I’ll just have another small slice of that pie, please.

The Man Who Lost His Dog and Then Found His Dog

Two days ago, once again careening into Christmas like the #9 car getting a little loose in turn 3, I noted with some anticipation the delivery of the box of meats and cheeses sent by my brother-in-law Scott that had become a holiday tradition.  Yesterday, it arrived.  Summer sausage and assorted cheeses that will be sliced and served up for the Christmas Eve football games, candies and petit fours and slices of fruit cake that will be noshed as an antidote to seasonal anxiety disorder.  Now, it’s a party.

Penultimate

Almost there.  Is it harder playing them one at a time when there’s only two games left?  I bet it is.  The math is simpler, for one thing.  Maybe that’s just me.

Money

Once again, we were reminded that anything can happen in the NFL.  The Packers can lose.  The Colts can win.  Tim Tebow can play well in the 1^st quarter. 

Good vs. Evil

There’s always a little bit of good guys and bad guys to the games.  Divisional games ratchet that up a notch or two.  Witness Tom Brady’s “I hate the Jets” comment.  Some Pigskin Pundits and Bobbleheads tried to run with that because it seemed out of character for Tom Terrific and then they realized, yeah, Patriots + Jets = Hate.  Growing up in Colorado and rooting for the Broncos before the John Elway era, I knew the Raiders were Evil but it was hard to see the Broncos as Good because they weren’t.  It was more like Mediocre vs. Evil than Good vs. Evil. 

Crazy Town

It’s that time again.  That time when 6-7-0 teams are talking playoff scenarios.  You know, the one where they win their remaining three games and everyone else loses all of their games.  It could happen.  But it probably won’t. 

It’s math.  Well, it’s Monte Carlo simulations.  That’s still math.  Fancy math. 

Buzzkills

My fellow citizens of Patriots Nation are serious buzzkills.  So negative.  So pompously whiny.  Are we become everything the pigskin blogosphere say they loathe and despise us for?  Smug entitled self-absorbed assholes?  Wait, don’t answer that. 

The Church of Tim

If the season ended today, Tim Tebow would be the quarterback of the AFC West division champs. 

So it was written.  So it has become.