Monday, January 25, 2010

The Morning After: Then There Were Two


The best thing about NFL Championship Sunday was the foreseeable blunder of Brett Favre when the game was on the line. While Mr. Favre's career numbers with Green Bay, New York and Minnesota may be enviable, his propensity to fail those teams in big spots is not.


Consider the interceptions karmic punishment from the sports gods, dear readers. Punishment for holding teams hostage in the previous years as Brett pondered retirement. Punishment for feeding his ego by creating a media frenzy following every indecisive day. Punishment for biding his time with the Jets so he could be signed by the Vikings to exact revenge on the Packers for his dishonorable discharge. His habitual miscues are a clear message from the sports gods' that one man's need to repair his ego is not bigger than the game.

I hope Brett is listening this off-season.

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Quick Thinking
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-- J-E-T-S...suck, Suck, SUCK!

-- Scheduling Note: The Pro-Bowl will be played on Sunday, January 31st at 7:30 pm.

-- Ignore accordingly.

-- PC Basketball seems to have taken a big step back after last year's promising season.

-- With apologies to all the folks who would've loved to reciprocate an elbow, push or flagrant foul that wasn't whistled, the pain in my titanium-laced joints has finally forced me into basketball retirement.

-- That groan you just heard was from Big Nick because he knows he'll have to do all the dirty work now.

-- Am I the only one that feels a sense of accomplishment after clogging a toilet?

-- The NFL's two best teams are in the Super Bowl.

-- Brett Favre won't retire this time for the same reason he couldn't retire all those other times: He doesn't want his last play from scrimmage to be an interception that led to an NFC Championship loss.

-- You know what they say, Brett - once is an accident, twice is a coincidence and three times is a trend. Your capacity for choking when the stakes are at their highest is a trend.

-- And not the kind that people want to copy.

-- Oh, and as me and my boy Mac were texting following your recent choke Sunday, we hope Desmond Howard and Drew Bledsoe are still on your Christmas card list for that Super Bowl XXXI victory.

-- Simple As... is another head bobbin' jam from Kid Cudi.

-- But not in a gay way.


-- Glen Davis would like to shed the "Big Baby" moniker in place of being called "Uno Uno."

-- I know, right?


-- Seeing old friends is the best way to remember how easy life used to be.

-- While seeing old friends' pictures of you is the best way to remember the name of the barber you no longer go to.


-- It makes me a little sad that because of Jersey Shore the disparity between New Jersey douche bags and Rhode Island douche bags no longer exists.

-- Each character on that show exceed all acceptable levels of douchebagery.

-- Wouldn't you agree, Erik?


-- And those who watch it are a special kind of "wannabe" douche bags.

-- That's right, I said it.

-- Painful Reality Check of the Week: It appears Tom Brady's work ethic & Peyton Manning's whining have switched places.

-- When The Game Was Ours by Larry Bird & Magic Johnson, with help from Jackie McMullen, is an insightful look into the basketball landscape of the late 70's, 80's and early 90's.


-- Quote of the Week is credited to Larry Bird, from page 47 of said book, in response to how he felt about his Indiana State teammates being jealous of all the attention he received in college, "Hell, I'm jealous of them too. I'm jealous because I never got to play with a Larry Bird."

-- Tough to argue with that.

-- The book also tells the story of how the foundation for the basketball world we know today was created.

-- Thanks Magic.

-- Thanks Larry.

-- Despite this creepy commercial.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I hope you are the only one who feels such toilet-clogging pride. Yuck.

Anonymous said...

Dear Anonymous,

A victory over modern plumbing engineering isn't something to be grossed out by. In fact, I believe the act deserves a small celebration.

Perhaps the pride stems from my own potty training difficulties. I've been told the only place I would "do a number 2" during childhood was at my aunt Kathy's house. Apparently, I needed a dinner tray, a coloring book with crayons and a parade of banging pots and pans when I finished the deed.

True story.

It's certainly not something I would put on my resume or list as a hobby but, even though we're talking about poop, the bottom line is simple -- size matters in a man's world.

Even the toilet clogging kind.