a) Feeling like I'm writing for an audience, when, in all reality, I'm delusionally drooling into blank space;
b) Having my friends (who read my other blog) sigh to themselves after reading yet another "you're losing, why didn't you onside kick?" rant.
And why "Second and One?"
...That's what you get when you go the whole nine yards.
***
So as everyone is talking about the NFL playoffs, I guess it would only be fitting for me to leap into the pot of analysis and prognostication. And for Saturday of the Divisional Round, it appears Bird is the Word!
Knocking on the End Zone's Door? Quoth the Ravens, "Nevermore!": Some people I've talked to don't know what to think about yesterday's contest between the Titans and the Ravens beyond "that was a really weird game." Between the punts, the slop, the gazillion yards of penalties, and the fact that Tennessee was able to nickel-and-dime the ball up and down the field (much to the chagrin of us who picked the Ravens' D for our Fantasy Playoff teams) but still have all drives that should have ended in points end in turnovers, I had no clue what I was watching after a while. I will say this though: I admire Baltimore's fortitude. They couldn't have gotten the Titans off the field with a stampede of bulls, yet they refused to roll over and die defensively, grabbing two picks and recovering a fumble. Offensively, they were naught to write home about, but still managed to grind it out.
Before Big Game Sunday, I usually call my dad, where he'll ask me "Ok. Team X vs. Team Y. Who ya got?" And I'll offer my picks for the week, usually based on Evidence Which May Or May Not Turn Out To be Total Crap. Examples of this would include:
a) It's raining in Location X; the Ys do poorly in bad weather;
b) The turf at X's field is slippery, and Y has a run-heavy offense;
c) Coach Z couldn't coach a baby to stop crying in the Pacific Time Zone;
d) The Xs never win when Mars is in the Fifth House and Uranus is Retrograde;
Yet something on Friday night convinced me to pick Baltimore. I'm not sure why. Sure, they were second in the league in takeaways and came into the postseason pretty hot. Sure, the Titans were on a bye week with their fingers up their noses whilst the Ravens slaved away down in the Miami heat. And sure, Joe Flacco often has days where he hogs all of the Rookie of the Year thunder (take that, Matt Ryan!), but more often than not, the Ravens' offense is low-scoring, inconsistent, and generally mediocre. So why Baltimore, then?
I guess I thought they had better uniforms. That coat-of-arms business is classy.
***
I also couldn't help but notice that the announcing in the Titans/Ravens game was awful. I generally like announcers to call a game, and occasionally interject interesting trivia, stats, educational bits from So-and-So's playbook- because in addition to being entertained, sometimes I like to learn something about the teams I'm watching and the tactics they use. All I learned yesterday:
1. Ed Reed has speed.
2. LenDale White needs more speed.
I don't have a Superbowl ring, but I can do better than this!
1. Ed Reed has speed. He's a safety; he should.
2. LenDale White needs speed to run (if the Titans are to get anything started on the ground sans Johnson.)
3. Kerry Collins is probably on speed.
***
I will say it wasn't as bad as the announcing for the BCS Championship. You know it's really bad when the announcers slide into nothing but Tim Tebow fanboy-ism and senseless existential claptrap for two whole quarters. It makes you actually wish that Brent Musburger were calling the game, whereupon you're promptly forced you to hate yourself for thinking that.
Another Bye Bites The Dust, also known as "What did Jake Delhomme get for his birthday? Creamed!": I like to call the Saturday night game the "Battle of The Inappropriate Location-Species Combinations" because there are very few Cardinals in Arizona, and depending on what you interpret a "panther" as, I can guarantee that the sleek black thing that's their mascot doesn't live in Charlotte. But thenagain, there aren't and were never any Bengals in Cincinnati, so I suppose it's a moot point.*
Ok. I'll be frank. Nobody saw the Cardinals coming. Absolutely nobody. Not John Madden, or Michael Strahan, or my dad, or the guy who picks up my trash. And today, the sounds of the vast morass of NFL analysts whacking their foreheads into their desks in unison actually drowns out the hubris over the 'Cards themselves.
Now, I'm a firm believer in this business about how teams are inconsistent and anyone can beat anyone on any given day. I believe in underdogs, upsets, and the improbable, Cinderella stories, and giant Moebius strips of loss-by-proxy, but I did not think the Cardinals had any chance. I didn't think they stood a chance because you can't win with a 9-7 pass-wacky offense lead by an aging quarterback and no Anquan Boldin, and a nonexistent run game lead by an aging running back against Carolina, in Carolina, in the rain. Oh, and their coach has a funny name. And you never see the coaches with funny names in the Championship games! Whisenhunt. Ha Ha. After the Panthers fired the warning shot across the bow in the first four minutes, I (and most everyone else) went "well, that's over" and opened my computer to mess around on the internet, only to look up 40 minutes later and go "Wait, when did it become 30-7?!"
I suppose the answer is simple: whereas Tennessee collapsed, Carolina imploded. Jake Delhomme threw 17/34 for 205 yards, fumbled once, and then threw five picks, and on his birthday to boot. I had nothing invested in this game, but I go back and forth between feeling incredibly bad for the undefeated-at-home Panthers, to wanting to ridicule them endlessly. So I'll let the reader be the judge. Imagine you were one of the Panthers on yon bench, witnessing this horrible spectacle, watching your postseason hopes get mercilessly flushed down the drain as your increasingly frustrated QB causes your offense to fold like a lawn chair, while an 9-7 team that has been violated in every way imaginable on the road proceeds to play pitch n' catch all night. And on National TV, to boot! Oh, the humanity!
Now, on the other end of the spectrum, imagine making a video montage of all of the ways the Panthers screwed up last night (complete with Delhomme going ballistic), speeding it up to 200%, and dubbing Yakety Sax over it.
Case rested?
If you go to a bakery and order half a dozen turnovers, is it called the Carolina Special? Honestly. I lost track of whom Delhomme was even trying to throw to after about the third foible. Some character named "Steve Smith" was supposed to be in the picture somewhere. I still don't know who that is.
I suppose it could be worse, though. I followed the Bears through the 2006 season as Rex Grossman learned the hard way that Lovie Smith, the Gatorade bucket, the Chain Gang, and his left guard weren't eligible receivers.
***
Non-Playoff News: I heard yesterday that the Chicago Bears hired Rod Marinelli as a D-line coach. Am I the one who thinks this is a totally moronic undertaking? Chicago's problem for years has not been their defensive line; it's their inconsistent offense and poor decision-making by the brass. I won't belabor this point now. I think Marinelli's a decent guy, despite this Mark of the Beast business after choking away an entire season, but to quote a friend of mine, hiring Marinelli is sort of like hiring the captain of the Titanic.
Without Further Ado, My Picks For Today:
Steelers over Chargers: Expect less Darren Sproles against the Steel Curtain. Barring tactical errors by Roethlisberger and special teams, it could very well be power out for San Diego.
Giants over Eagles: Actually, I'm saying Giants (60%): Eagles (40%). I don't think these two teams match up very well, but that home-field advantage thing may mean something here. Flip a coin, really: heads, the Giants' secondary stands McNabb on his head every other play; tails, Eli Manning is Eli Manning.
That's all for now. Remember kids: We may not know the answer to the important questions in life, but there's still something mesmerizing about watching guys in spandex pasting each other.
*Although Detroit is pretty rough. There may be lions wandering the streets at night.
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