Thinking Out Loud

The NFL season is, in and of itself, a small data sample. Just sixteen games over seventeen weeks. A key injury in week three can destroy a team’s chances to make the playoffs; a blown call in the 4^th quarter, a pass slips through a receiver’s hands into the waiting arms of a defensive back who takes it in for the winning score, a potential game-winning field goal hits the upright and falls harmlessly to the ground. All of a sudden, 10-6-0 is 7-9-0 and your fans are reenacting Act III of Oedipus Rex. That’s right; a tie is like kissing your sister and finishing out of the playoffs is like having sex with your mother.

Sorry, Bills’ fans.

Grounded

I’m trying my best not to enjoy it. The Patriots still have the Thanksgiving game with the Jets. Even if the NYJ drop a winnable game against the Rams this coming Sunday, I would still expect to see Gang Green’s best efforts at home against their hated divisional rivals. Still, it’s almost too easy. The 3-6-0 record, Mark Sanchez’s on-going struggles, a playoff guarantee followed by a lifeless defeat, followed by rumors of a teary Rex Ryan imploring his unlovable band of misfits to believe, followed by Bart Scott insisting the Jets are family even as some family members are trashing their receiving corps and calling out their second string QB. Seriously? It’s the guy who isn’t playing’s fault?

This is your defense of Mark Sanchez? That he isn’t as horrible as Tim Tebow?

Are you sure about that?

Anhedonia

Apparently, there are worse things than losing. Winning so badly that Jim Nantz thinks you lost for one. Also, not being able to update your status on Foursquare because whatever, you know, what’s up with Foursquare, man?

Adversity Isn't Just a River in Egypt

Work, drink, write. Work, drink. Work, drink. Work, drink. Work, drink. Work, drink, write. Hmm. My work, drink, write balance is seemingly out of balance. I know why I work (money) but I don’t know if I know why I drink (thirsty?) or write (yeah, I got nothing). Perhaps I drink and I write for the same deep dark secret reason. Something that happened in my childhood, something repressed for good reason. Okay, I may be overdramatizing. After all, my idea of adversity is running out of space on my DVR.