If I were an NFL analyst, I would call this something twee like my “Quick Hits” column.
Brett Favre…is still playing football…why? I suppose I understand not wanting to give up the dream. I mean, some people can only do one thing really well and in the case of professional athletes, it’s often hard, if not impossible to step away. But Favre has already won his Super Bowl. He’s already had the transcendent performance (the Monday Night Football game shortly after his father died), and he’s already been deified by many. So why, when he’s quite honestly hurting his team more than helping it, is he still playing? He can’t honestly think he’s going to win another Super Bowl at this rate, can he? Has he never heard that it’s better to burn out than fade away? Like Ray Bourque. That guy did it the right way. Play for twenty years, win a Stanley Cup, thank you and goodnight. Favre is 37-years-old, not old by any stretch of the imagination in nearly any venue outside of professional sports. (Unless you’re Julio Franco but that’s just freakish), but have you seen him lately? He looks like ten different kinds of hell. He’s graying and tired-looking and the poor guy just looks like he’d be way more comfortable playing golf somewhere and yelling at those darn kids to get off his lawn. I’m just saying, there’s a big difference between this Brett Favre and this one. He’s not an unattractive man and clearly, I’ve got nothing against a little graying on my sports boyfriends, but Favre is approaching Old Man River territory and I’m starting to worry that he might start singing hymns in the huddle. Please, Brett, enough. For everyone’s sake.
Some days, when it seems like things are going completely to hell – like maybe the T refuses to run on time or the coffee shop is out of iced hazelnut and I come in to a pile of work threatening to eclipse the sun – it helps to take a deep breath and remember that no matter what’s going on, things could be worse. I could be Ricky Williams.
Remember how a few weeks ago Sports Illustrated picked the Dolphins to win the AFC East and make it to the Super Bowl? Well, said Dolphins are currently residing in the AFC East basement with a less-than-stellar record of 1-3. Now, now, now, before you get all, “OH MY GOD, YOU’VE JINXED THEM AND NOW THEY WILL BEAT THE PATRIOTS THIS WEEK AND WIN ALL THE GAMES EVER AND TAKE OVER THE WORLD AHHHHHHHHHH!” I know that things can change. My point is merely that I like it when Sports Illustrated looks stupid. And right now, picking the Dolphins to make it to the Super Bowl looks pretty damn stupid. They lost to the Texans for fuck’s sake. The Texans who, I’m pretty sure, haven’t won a game in their entire franchise history without busing in the cast of “Friday Night Lights” to play a set of downs or something. I guess David Carr can finally cut his hair now. May I recommend “the Plummer?” It’s a fetching look.
Not that the former Houston team is doing any better. The Titans, (formerly Houston Oilers) are standing, uh, strong at 0-4. Brand new Vince Young isn’t really helping there, is he? I hear tell that Jeff Fisher (owner of one of the best porn-staches in the NFL now that Dave Wannstadt is coaching college ball) “expects to win with Young.” Yeah, that’s um, that’s quite a task you’ve set for yourself there, coach. Probably doesn’t help when members of your team are tearing other people’s faces off with their cleats though, does it?
Seriously, have you heard about this? If you ignore for a second that it doesn’t directly involve Terrell Owens and therefore, wasn’t broadcast to all corners of the globe using a complicated system of radar, hamster wheels and the Hubble space telescope, you might have heard that Titans defensive tackle Albert Haynesworth kicked off Cowboy’s center Andre Gurode’s helmet and stepped on his face with his cleat. What is this? Fucking Nip/Tuck? Who does that? A crazy person, that’s who. The league suspended Haynesworth five games without pay and he says he won’t appeal. I should freakin’ hope not. Dumbass. I want to know what makes this that much different than the vicious Marty McSorley/Donald Brashear hockey incident of a few years ago. Look, I know that football is a violent game. But dude, you don’t kick someone’s helmet off and step on their face. I’m pretty sure even Ray Lewis is more subtle than that.
Ray Lewis is also, coincidentally, I’m sure, playing for the undefeated Ravens. Yeah, those words don’t really make sense to me either. They wear purple, and, as far as I can tell, still employ Kyle Boller in some capacity (even if it’s merely as McNair’s backup). How can they possibly be undefeated in the NFL? Of course, this coming Monday, the Ravens face off against the Broncos at Mile High. Ahhh, Monday Night Football games in Denver. I remember it clearly. Lonnie Paxton snapped the intentional safety, executing one of the smartest coaching moves I’ve ever seen and the Patriots went on the win just as the clock struck midnight on November 4th and I turned 23. That was a good birthday present. Thanks again, boys. Anyway, Ravens? I have two words for you: Intentional. Safety.
Dear Bill Cowher:
For the love of all that is good and holy, STOP FUCKING YELLING AT ME! Your spittle is short-circuiting my TV. Enough.
So…is it Sunday yet?