We have some catching up to do. Didn’t have a chance to post much last week since every one else’s New Year’s resolution appears to have been making me either do more work or making my current job more difficult. Work would be great if there weren’t other people involved.
Anyway, here are some random thoughts from the week that was.
- Happy now, Colts? Are you? Rolling over against the Jets while sporting a 14 – 0 record? Playing for your home crowd and just giving up when perfection is still an option? Are you fucking happy now? You play all out in that game and your next opponent probably doesn’t even make the playoffs. Now? Oh, well, now you get to play a team that KNOWS they can win at your arena, is over flowing with confidence and just beat the snot out of a team that bears a striking resemblance to yours.
Unwittingly you have set a chain of events into effect that has ended in my openly rooting for a New York team.
You read that right. I am going to be rooting for the Jets to beat the Colts. You had your chance Indy. You had a chance at history and decided to shrug your shoulders at destiny. ‘Whatever,’ you said, ‘we’ve clinched what we’ve needed, done what we can and now we want to stay healthy. Who cares what the other teams do?’
I can say for certainty the Chargers care. And you’ll be caring when Manning gets hit for the 10th time this weekend. I don’t care how good your team should be, you let the Jets in. You gave them confidence. You are responsible for them still playing. Confuckulations, Colts. You are now responsible for the monster you created.
Perfection is a distant memory; now you’ll be lucky to make it past next weekend.
- Now that I’ve got that out of my system, the Chargers let the Jets off the hook. Like all Norv Turner teams, they were undisciplined, sloppy and missed too many opportunities to count. First was the personal foul head butt that gave the Jets 15 yards, then came Vincent Jackson’s inexplicable kicking of the challenge flag which brought a great catch back 15 yards at the most critical point in the game (and deflated a home crowd and team that was finally rolling).
But worse was Nate Kaeding who self destructed in the most horrific playoff performance since last year’s Jake Delhomme implosion. It was painful to watch. Frankly, if you’re a Chargers fan, do you want Kaeding back on this team? Isn’t it better for both parties to just move on?
What’s frustrating is this Chargers team was once again enormously talented. But, like other editions of the San Diego franchise, they’ll be viewed as under achievers who unravel during pressure moments. Perhaps that’s appropriate.
- I’ll say this about the Jets: Defensively they are the best tackling team I’ve seen in a long time. After watching the Patriots unable to wrap up Ray Rice or Joe Flacco or any of the Raven’s cheerleaders, it was quite the contrast to witness every single Jet hit hard and take down their man on the first try. It really is the fundamentals that make the difference.
- As for the Cowboys, what the holy hell was going on in their secondary? Three touchdown passes to Rice and on two of them it looked like the man covering him never even knew where the ball was. On the first the guy was looking to the other side of the field as if he thought the pass was to someone else. On the last the defender just sat on the field with his arms in the air as if to say ‘What can I do?’
Once again Romo looked horrible during his final game of the season and now we have another week of having to listen to Brett Favre stories. Fucking great.
- By the way, Vikings, throwing for a fourth touchdown in the final minutes rather than simply killing the clock was sore winning. I know. I witnessed an entire year of it with the 2007 Patriots. Shit like that catches up to you. Call it karma. Call it the football entities watching down. Call it whatever you want, but you will be paid back with interest for that one. You’ll see.
Anyone else get the feeling that was a Favre audible? Might as well get another touchdown pass to pad the stats.
- Spent the weekend in Connecticut visiting my brother in law and his wife. Their three daughters and my two boys get along famously, so we went down, the kids disappeared for two straight days and BIL and I spent the weekend watching football. Good times.
The reason I bring it up is because I got to spend time with a real dog. It didn’t bark, it didn’t whine, it didn’t try to steal food from the table, it didn’t jump up and down incessantly in an attempt to drive me into a homicidal rage. It was simply acted like a normal dog. It did sit and stare at you while you ate and would go to the door when it needed to…you know…piss and shit, but it never did anything out of the ordinary.
Wifey, who loved the dog, came home and decided to make an attempt to turn our dog normal. She took it for a walk, gave it treats, then brought it into the living room to play with it. As usual the stupid thing wouldn’t sit still, kept jumping all over her in a frothing frenzy of insanity, then puked all over the rug. Welcome home!
- If you’ve never been to Connecticut there is a wrinkle in the laws down there that make most weekends an adventure in scheduling. See, all liquor stores close at 8pm. Every. Single. Night. This means you have to know what you’re in the mood to drink (BEER!) by dinner time or you’re gonna be one sorry mofo when you realize at 9pm on a Friday night that you only had three beers or half a bottle of wine left.
If you're wondering (and I was) the reason this law exists is due to some armed robberies that took place back in either the 50s or 60s. People were killed, money was stolen, and Connecticut over reacted like most states do and decided catching the killers wasn't simple enough and decided to just shut everything down as a preventative measure.
I asked the owner of the place we stopped how much business he thinks he loses by having to shut down at 8 and he said 'Hell if I know. I just enjoy getting to see my family at a reasonable hour'.
- Boy, Tim Hightower’s opening 70 something yard run sure looked familiar didn’t it, Pats fans? The difference between the Saints and the Patriots was startling. Where the Patriots went into nuclear meltdown, New Orleans straightened up, brushed the dirt off, went to work, and corrected the mistakes they made the first time. In short, they looked and acted like a championship team.
- If Kurt Warner does retire this offseason, it’s going to be difficult to think that bone and teeth rattling hit he took didn’t have something to do with his decision. At least a little bit, right? Hell, if that was me I would have retired on the stretcher they carried me out on.
- If you’re not from New England, be thankful you’re missing the final weeks of the Martha Coakley – Scott Brown run for Ted Kennedy’s Senate seat. I am not exaggerating when I tell you every other ad on television is one of them saying something about the other. Or one defending themselves. Or one showing how great a family person they are. Or one showing what kind of truck he drives (not kidding!).
It’s become so bad that I now wish physical harm on both of them and will not vote for either. I don’t care if a third candidate believes he’s a conduit for an alien life force from Alf’s home planet. He or she has my vote.
- Apparently Mother Nature has an ironic sense of humor. We got three inches of the heaviest goddamn snow I’ve ever had the misfortune to shovel from Sunday night into Monday afternoon. Thus everything turned white on Martin Luther King day. Well done, Mother Nature. Well done.
- If you’re concerned about any karmic retribution about the above remark, I should point out that I was struck with that thought after I threw my back out shoveling my driveway.
- My back troubles started in my early thirties when I was – ironically, I suppose – in the best shape of my life. I pulled a muscle in my lower back moving a weight lifting bench. Not lifting weights, mind you, but moving a 15 pound bench out of my way. It was the worst pain I’ve ever felt.
As I’ve since learned, when you pull a muscle in that area or strain something, the muscle gets inflamed and grabs onto every other muscle in the surrounding area and takes them all on a lovely joy ride to Excruciating Painville by way of Please Just Paralyze Me And Get It Over With Avenue. Simply wiping my own ass became a problem. You can thank me for that visual later.
What made matters worse was my mistreating my own body. I always thought heat would ease back troubles, but when things are inflamed and spasming to the rhythm of a subway ride you should actually ice down the trouble spot. Once I got the hang of things, I’ve been doing much better.
I now always stretch before working out. I am always careful how I pick things up after I aggravated it picking up a laundry basket. An empty laundry basket. But some things just aren’t good for your lower back. Like shoveling a ton of snow. That’s very bad. Or sneezing while tying your shoes. Or turning back to look at a beautiful woman that has just passed you by and not noticing the curb you’re stepping off. Or trying to prove to your nine year old you can still lift him over your head in an attempt to add a dose of humility to his inflated ego after he beat your ass in Wii Sports.
These days I spot the warning signs. Things get tight and sore, but if I tend to it and be careful I can avoid the crippling, full blown effects that leave me wondering what death is like and trying not to cry like a little girl.
Know what else helps? Alcohol. So if you’ll excuse me it’s time for another gin and tonic. This time I’ll add a lime in order to get my daily vitamin C.
Today’s distraction: Apparently there is a new ‘beer heaven’ in Lovell, Maine. It’s approximately 155 miles from Boston, is super tiny and has officially dipped below a 5% chance of me ever getting up there. On the left side bar is a ‘Where To Stay’ if you wanted to try this place out. The address is listed as ‘Dirt Road off Rt 5’.