The pigskin dream, with its tangerine trees and marmalade skies, with its missed blitz pickups, those orcs that run a 4.4 forty, and that oblate spheroid that's so hard to hold and utterly unpredictable in its movements when encountering a fixed plane, that dream is still alive. That's right. If the playoffs started tomorrow…
Destiny. Sometimes it's fortunate. Sometimes it's tragic. And sometimes Destiny's a stripper.
Games like last night are the kind that will send fans straight through the five stages of grief directly to acceptance.
The New England Patriots of 2022 are not a playoff team.
The NFL.
It's a long, hard slog to Mordor and when it's over, you're lucky to have most of your fingers and toes. I'm just glad I never started chewing my fingernails or I'd constantly be cleaning blood off the keyboard.
That was disappointing.
Hey! I thought Kirk Cousins was supposed to suck in prime time games.
Hmm. Maybe counting on your opponent to suck isn't the best of strategies.
