Bill Clinton vs. The Dallas Cowboys

This is a political post. Kinda.

I remember a cartoon from a long time ago, Regan's second inauguration if you will. By happenstance, the inauguration fell on Super Bowl Sunday. I kid you not. And the cartoon suggested that Regan take is second oath of office at halftime, that way we could be sure someone noticed. I didn't think it was that far fetched an idea. Because sometimes, you have set the silliness aside and focus on the important things in life, like football. Okay, that time I was kidding.

Really? Whose brilliant idea was it to hold the Democratic National Convention at the start of football season? I mean come on. That was patently unfair to those of interested in the future of country as a whole...AND in what Bill Clinton had to say. Yes, that is correct, I equate the success or failure of my favorite football team with the success of the country. I'm only almost partially kidding. I clicked over the convention (because I was watching the game!) and they were telling Bain horror stories, nothing I didn't already know so I figured I'd check back later.

I missed almost all of Elizabeth Warren watching the Cowboys offense give'em the peppa! As much as I know I can get the text someplace or run through the clips later, you should want to hear it live if possible. But the Cowboys were leading at the half 7-3! As a long time Cowboy fan, do you know how fleeting that is as of late. The way we were handing out points in the second half last year, we Cowboy fans have to savor those precious moments that we're up while we can.

Then then sent out ole' Slick Willie. And then I was truly torn. Because this year the 'Boys have actual cover corners, guys who might be able to stop a pass every now and then.  But Bill Clinton knows how to turn a phrase, and although we want Obama back....let's just say the President should be happy ole Billy Boy can't run again.  So I clicked back and forth between the game and convention. I missed the second touchdown, but caught the part about us being better off.  I missed the Giants field goal as the former President waxed on about math being the key to the economy.  With just a seven point lead I was now pressed. Would Coach Garrett make Tony Romo throw the ball all over the field for no reason, increasing the possibility he'd throw a game wrecking second pick? I was sorely tempted to go make myself a drink.  Instead I clicked back over to Clinton breaking down what the Republican budget plan means in real terms.

I listened to Clinton toss out zinger after zinger, doing the dirty work, something he knows the President won't be able to do in his own speech.  Then I watched Miles Austin make a leaping catch on first and thirty, then scamper into the end zone to make it a two touchdown game. It is at this point I wish I could say I relaxed a bit. But then the Cowboys gave up three games last year where they were up by 12 or more fourth quarter, including one to the Giants.  I continued bouncing back and forth, but they were cheering so hard I could barely hear Clinton speaking. And when the Giants closed the gap, I feared that the 'Boys would somehow figure a new way to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.

I don't really sound like a fan do I?

Let's just say I've been disgusted with the way Jerry has done my team as of late, all ego and bluster amounting to much disappointment. But through thick and thin, you stay with your team. I wish I could say I did the responsible thing and watched Clinton. What I watched was the Cowboys RUN for a game winning first down as the Giants were out of timeouts, only to get it called back for holding. I really needed that drink about then. Then Romo didn't choke and threw for a first down! And then Romo didn't fumble the ball on the kneel down! Then the Cowboys won the game!

Well damn.

And Clinton gave a great speech as well. At least the parts I heard. Thank God for the internet.

Barkeep, a tall glass of ice tea and chicken sandwich. I got some reading to do.  

Bar Chatter

Bar Chatter #25
Sometimes it just ain't enough to make a post, but it's still needs to go out....it's just bar chatter.


Since Football Season ended a while back, and I go to school, I almost forgot there was a game on. Yeah, Super what? Whatever. Oh, and I had a sincere distaste for both teams playing. And the team I actually had a higher distaste for ended up winning.

It's an NFC East thing, you wouldn't understand.

So this will count as the entirety of my Superbowl post.

And then the Football Gods said no

One of my favorite columnists, Gregg Easterbrook, writes a weekly sports column for ESPN in which he regals in how the Football Gods reward or punish teams for the folly and hubris. My favorite is when he comments on how a team is punished when the cheerleaders fail to show professionalism. The man has a good eye, that's all I can say. I've appropriated his term for this update to describe my opinion of what happened in the oddly named University of Phoenix Stadium where the Rasputin-like Giants faced the unstoppable Patriots in their quest for football immortality.

A few days before the game in DC, a Senator (an Eagles fan) asked the question I've been asking all season. "Hey Goodell, what was on the damn tapes? And if you stonewall me, I might take away your anti-trust exemption." To me, this was the first crack in the wall that the NFL had whitewashed after the boys from Foxboro got caught. And cracks tend to spread, even onto the field.

"The champ is groggy. The champ is down."

I enjoyed the Superbowl at an acquaintence's party in Buckhead, chock full of women looking all sexy and guys being guys, with a fresh cup of Sprite in one hand and a girl on lap for most of the second half. I had another party in mind, but found out the brother was charging $30 a head (dudes) to get in. Now it was supposed to pay for catering, but for $30 I would have expected free drinks as well. And I'm not even drinking right now. So, I didn't attend.

At the party I did run up to, a three story town house, the crowd was mixed, although the girls I was sitting next to complained that there weren't enough men there. Enough tall men, who looked rich. I wish I was joking, but that's how she preferenced it. The women though, were off the chain. (And for the record, the girl in the yellow jersey and black stretch pants was reee-diculously fine. I didn't get her on my lap though.)

Enough of the ambiance..onto the game. The thing that impressed me most was how often the Giants got to Brady. At one point I think he had 17 dropbacks and was either hurried or knocked down on 10 of them, and was 5 for 11. What the NY has that a lot of teams don't is a strength coach from the 1950s and four legit speed rushers, and getting to Brady is the key to stopping the Pats. That and shutting down that way to obvious straight forward pass lane that nobody in 18 games seems to realize is there.

The wings by the way, were slamming. Old girl in the black top that she was bursting out of was even better. Sorry, the game.

Then, with his brother looking like someone's accountant, Eli Manning grew a pair. With two minutes to play I watched as he channeled Favre, Montana, and in a scramble that saw him dance out of the arms a defender and toss the long ball, Tarkenton. (Yes, I'm a Cowboy fan and I could have said Staubauch or Romo, but they're still the Giants, geez). But even as he floated out the go ahead touchdown pass, I looked at the clock and wondered if they'd struck too soon. As the room around me erupted in jubliation that the Pats weren't going to go undefeated (You'd be surprised how many folks hate the Pats now) I realized that they'd left Brady and Moss with 35 seconds and three timeouts. That's like 4 minutes in real time. And by NFL rules, the defensive coach would play prevent. Okay it's not a rule, but it they way they stick the mantra it may as well be.

So held my breath and waited for the English Miracle. Or Brady's March. Or whatever nickname they'd give it when Moss made a circus catch in the endzone with zero seconds left on the clock, because in the NFL you trust your DBs to cover and not your linebackers to blitz with the game on the line. Do the Giants know who there DBs are? Send in the linebackers!

Somebody listened, as whooosh!, they hit Brady so hard you could feel the impact in Atlanta. What's that? A coach who sends in the funk with less than minuted to play? Unthinkable!

And somewhere in Miami, the champange bottles popped. The Football Gods had made it right.

Barkeep....shots all around! Make my shot that Voss water though.