Matt Cassel’s Mom told you he could do it

(Photo from Yahoo! Sports)

Okay, so I’m now less concerned with Matt Cassel’s ability to lead a football team and more concerned about his potential dehydration as the poor boy was a veritable faucet of perspiration in his postgame.

“Tommy never sweats,” I said lovingly.

“No,” Amy replied, “he glistens.”

I mean, I love ya, Matty, I do, but maybe you should look into having your press conferences sponsored by Gatorade and Right Guard.

Okay, I only kid those I love. But you gotta learn that people aren’t going to be scared of you if you keep apologizing for sweating. It’s unavoidable probably but instead of apologizing for it, you have to revel in it. Start press conferences by saying, “What? This ain’t sweat. This the glisten of a winner, baby. This pure awesome comin’ out.”

Because I don’t know about you guys but the persona of Matt Cassel’s mom that we’ve all invented in our heads is maybe my new favorite thing about football season.

“I’ll bet she sent him a care package,” Amy said.

“Or, after he took that first sack, she probably sent him a picture message with that kitten hanging from a tree branch that said ‘Hang in there, baby.'” I said.

“I think Momma Cassel is big on Successories posters,” Kim added.

“Courage! Fortitude!”

“You guys?” Chrissy said, “I kind of love Matt Cassel’s mom.”

And, I mean, right? Don’t you? SportsDesk on Friday told me that after last Sunday’s game against Kansas City, Cassel got over a hundred text messages. Normally he just gets one: from his mom. Probably saying something like, “You looked so nice and clean on the sidelines there, Matty. Good job! Tell Tom I said hi.”

So basically, Matt Cassel is exactly who we think he is. And if anyone has evidence to the contrary, I don’t want to hear it.

He also appears to be quite a little football player. It seems the national media is obsessed with talking about how he didn’t fuck anything up but the bottom line is that not only didn’t he fuck things up, but with the help of Wes Welker and LaMont Jordan (whose iTunes mojo is now Montell Jordan’s “This is How We Do It” obviously), he made some things happen and outplayed Brett Favre. And because of it, the Pats are 2-0. And LAT (Life After Tom) is going along as well as can be expected. There was a tense moment there wherein Cassel banged up his knee a bit but he apparently heard Chrissy’s entreaties to “rub some dirt on it” and shook it off and went back to work.

“Just like Brady would do,” Steve DeOssie observed.

And can I just say something about Tom Brady and The Injury? People, he’s not dead. Seriously. Perhaps aside from Randy Moss, no one is taking the injury harder than I am (as evidenced by the irresponsible amount of drinking I’ve done over the course of the past week), but the fact of the matter is that it’s a leg injury. He’s going to be okay. He’s going to come back to us. There really is no need for everyone in the league to play the season with a black armband or for us all to sit shiva and light some candles in Tommy’s memory. I repeat, he is not dead. Sure, I’d love to see him on the sidelines too, possibly with his baby in a Baby Bjorn strapped to his front and learning firsthand about the NFL offense, but reports about him being in good spirits and calling Cassel and Moss to give them pointers are enough for me right now. I care a great deal – possibly too much – about the mental state of someone I’ve never met but if he’s okay, I’ll be okay. Promise.

Now, as for the Red Sox, they made things rather interesting themselves in the 9th inning there. I wonder if perhaps Jonathan Papelbon is feeling a little ignored what with New England being up in arms over this Tom Brady thing so he’s acting out. Getting all riled up and feeling ignored and a near blown save is his little version of an attention-getting tantrum. Stop it, Jonathan. Mommy loves you all the same.

Regardless, the magic number for making the playoffs is down to 8 thanks to – gulp – the Yankees and the Orioles sacking up and playing like men. It’s getting down to it.

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