Here we go again...

Ramblings Post #363
Sometimes life is. I mean, there is not much you can do about it other than live it. Sure there are things you can control, things you can influence, things you can change. But then there are those things you can't. Like the weather. And Chick-fil-et being closed on Sundays. And that I look better in black. I do, really.

When I first moved to Atlanta many many moons ago, one of the first real parties I went to was a SuperBowl party. Much like all those other people not from here, I too was seduced by one good weekend. That year somebody played somebody else, it was relatively warm out and that brother's house looked like a video shoot there were so many attractive women there. I still remember going down into the basement and being surrounded by like fifteen model types all very happy to see me. Full disclosure: I did not get one single number, did hook up with not a soul, got no we'll hang you later, no nothing. But let's just say it gave me hope.

Shortly after that they actually had the game in Atlanta. The Superbowl, if you're unaware, really is more of a week-long experience leading up to the game. Parties, events, just stuff, all centered around a football game that happens at the end of the week. I'm certain that ancient civilizations had something similar when I think about it. Ours involves a pigskin, theirs would have involved a sacrifice of some sort or at least a witch burning. Basically the same thing except for the ad revenue. But last time the city hosted the game, nature decided to put a damper on things with a massive ice storm that shutdown the city. It was out of left field, all black ice and businesses closed. But that leads to a story.

Because the game was in town an old partner of mine came through as well, it was the SuperBowl and we were young and did shit like that. Just go to events we couldn't go to and hang out. And we ended up hanging out with some guys he knew. This is back when house flipping was the move, so one of the guys who juggled houses for living had this supremely nice house in Alpharetta he was staying in and selling. A mansion really. Super nice. We hung out there a couple days, hit the few in-town functions when we could (if they were still being held) and had a pretty okay week. The guy with the really nice house is having a huge party on gameday, so of course we are down to roll.

That Sunday morning I get a phone call. It was a from a friend of mine who just happened to be on the Superbowl committee. She may or may not have actually been on the committee, I'm not sure now but I do distinctly remember she asked me one of those questions that you dream about: Do you want to go to Superbowl? Apparently due to the weather (remember, ice storm?) somebody somewhere who had a ticket had not made it and so she was offering it to me. To me. For the grand price of just show your ass up.

And I said no.

There a few times in life where I look back and wonder exactly what the hell was going on in my head when I said X, or did Y, or ate Z. Why didn't I get into the Ferrari? Why didn't I just take the job and fake it until I figured it out? Why didn't I just take the damn shoes? There is a show on Stars called Counterpart that I like, and it explores in part (as part of the backdrop of it's inter-dimensional espionage) the different paths in life we could be on but for small differences.

When I tell the story now, I swear it was a skybox seat because she was the kind of woman who would have an extra skybox seat, but honestly I don't remember. I do remember telling her I already had commitments and, instead of abandoning my friend, I declined the opportunity. Looking back at now though, he was resourceful guy. He could have found his way to Alpharetta. Why, me not leaving him to fend for himself is almost an insult to his very manhood! Okay, not really, we had great time at that party.

I say all that because this week's impromptu threat of snow on the week of the game reminds me those couple of days. The city was half encased in ice and yet drinks were being served here, people were out and about there, and I think that was the first time I ate at Boston Market. Now we're only supposed to get an inch or two, but considering the ill designed traffic flows and the dearth of foul weather driving skills amongst my fellow citizens, we are most definitely in for it. Atlanta though, will find a way. People will find an open bar, a hot buffet, some shoe models showing off the latest styles. Because it's what we do.

This time however, I have no house-guest, and plenty of groceries. My social wanderlust is currently in remission. The ranch gave us the day off but I brought my um, my "horse" home with me so it's not like I won't have things to do.

Barkeep, if you know someone who might have a spare ticket. What? Let's just say I've learned...

World Cup, France, what a game.

Ramblings Post #352
Sport brings people together. We've known that in the South for years. It's place where a black male can have free reign to do pretty much whatever the hell he wants...provided he wins on Saturday (or Friday if you live in small enough town.) And it's nice to see that sport binds us all worldwide, it is interesting to find out that the same self mental trickery is just as constant. 

I think this was the first time I ever actually watched the World Cup. You know, the rest of the world's version of the Superbowl. Only bigger.

I played futbol (soccer) up through my formative years if you can believe it. Back before I discovered beer and cheez doodles I used to play center half, a position that could run up to six miles during a game. Ah, where the did the time go. Soccer really is a beautiful game...to play. To watch it is pretty much crap. Even for some one like me, who knows the game - and still plays it with Football Manager 13', 14' and 15' (the last couple seasons have just been window dressing honestly). So to sit down and actually watch it was different. I work with people who save up and go - and I think one guy at the ranch actually flew over to see a game live. Maybe. 

In any case it wasn't bad. Like a regular game it was fast at times, slow at times. I hated the ref. I screamed at the screen. I watched a good portion of it. Up until Kylian Mbappé scored France's fourth goal. At that point anyone expecting a Croatian comeback was looking for a repeat of the Patriots-Falcons fiasco. Twice in one lifetime? Probably not.

So congrats France. With your whole team full of immigrants. And Muslims. Who you supposedly don't want in your country.

No seriously. Congrats.

And then the Atlanta Falcons...

Ramblings Post #331
Let me say first that my team had a good run. And hopefully, the Cowboys will take this as a sign that great things are possible with that team. I blame the end of the Green Bay game on the coaching staff, who called for Dak to spike the ball on that last drive with about 40 seconds left when they should have run a play (possibly a nice sweep? Out of bounds and advance the ball). Now we just need to get through the off-season and free agency - pray for the secondary - and maybe I'll get a return of the 'Boys to Superbowl when it's in Atlanta. Whooo! 

I'm not a Falcon fan. I've lived in Atlanta for a while, but I'm not a fan. It's called loyalty to my actual team. But this year the Falcons are going to the Superbowl. The big game. Going for the whole enchilada. The city will be...well, I'll get to that, but in the end I'm still not even going to even pretend to be a Falcon fan. So I'm giving away my seat on the bandwagon. It's seat 30,486A. I don't know who is in 30,486B, sorry.

Outsiders don't know this, but some of the great annual parties of the year in Atlanta (in any circuit you travel) are in conjunction with the most watched sporting event in the America. In my youth I've attended as many as five different functions on game day alone, my youth in this case being my early-thirties. In fact, one of the first great parties I attended in Atlanta was for the game, and it was that party, in an unfinished basement holding a red solo cup that I knew I'd moved to the right town. Sigh. Since then I've been to parties for the game in spaces that probably weren't a thousand square feet, in halls and showrooms, and yet others at mansions with 100-inch projections screens on the lower level and 60 inches upstairs. Some games I've run into people I haven't seen in a decade and at others made new hang-out buddies. It's a feast, a party and good time.   

Now, generally we folks down here in the ATL find out who won on Sportscenter sometime around eleven (if the TV is still on) or later when you finally make it home. A typical party for the game includes a DJ during commercials, food that is gone by halftime, a full donation bar, lively conversations and catching up, and a brief pause for the halftime show if it's somebody good. There is dancing afterwards if you push the furniture back, and maybe even a little after game entertainment depending on the host. There may even be five or ten fans of one of the teams playing in attendance, Atlanta is a city of transplants after all, but the vast majority of the crowd usually turns out of the festivities, not the game itself.

Don't believe for a moment that they aren't serious.

This year however, people will actually be watching the game. As in paying attention to the play calling, down and distance, yelling at the screen, and cursing the refs. I'm going to get commentary about whose open, formations and shrieks of terror or joy depending on the action. People will be caring about who wins. People will be actual FANS. I am filled with dismay.

Even worse, the really cool folks are headed to Houston. Damn if they're gonna miss this. Ticket or no ticket, they just want to be close. I'm not sure if the NFL is ready for all that. This means the parties for those of use left behind might be half empty. Ugh.

I'm sorry my fellow good time revelers, the light-hearted bootleg holiday that is the Superbowl isn't coming this year.  At least not in Atlanta.

Houston bound.

Somewhere on February 5th, the game will be in the third quarter and people will not even notice. They'll might be enjoying a drink with friends, telling a ribald tale and sharing a laugh, or perhaps sneaking a glance to see if that attractive person they noticed earlier is looking their way. Wings and blue cheese, chips and dip, possibly a brawt or two will be consumed leisurely. Alas, I will not be there. Alas.

Bartender, something in a cup. With a lid. That seals. And make it strong.   

"Did I do that?": or Modern NFL Playcalling

Ramblings Post #283
There is no try, you either do or you do not. Otherwise you are comedy relief, much like the red-hot Seahawks, who like raised their arms in triumph before they broke the tape and took the win. It was football history, in all the bad ways imaginable. All I can say is, thank god it wasn't my Cowboys.  

I read a column called Tuesday Morning Quarterback on ESPN because the author is a fun read, between his statistics, suggestions for improvement political commentary and observations. I started when it was on Slate and it is a regular Tuesday afternoon read. One of the things he closes out with, along with the “obscure collegiate school scores”, is a little feature called the dumbest play of the season so far. Now, I’m not the authority here, but I think you know my nominee for THE hands down dumbest playcall of the year. 

What would be a reasonable rationale for not running Marshawn Lynch from the ONE-yard line to win?

I’m fairly certain that somewhere in a press conference after the game every reporter in the room shook their heads in disbelief as Carroll broke down the rationale used to justify that playcall. If they didn’t all look skeptical at the explanation then they should have. At least one guy should have yelled out “Bullsh*t” from the back of the room no matter what was said. This all may have happened, as I went to a Superbowl party and pretty much the second that play was over we all stopped watching. After we all stopped cursing.  My god what a bad call. 

There is an old football axiom, “When you pass the ball, three things can happen and two of them bad.” In this case four or five things could have gone bad. Run the ball and you reduce the bad. Carroll figured it for a throwaway play. Throwaway play? They might have been on the one but the game wasn't won yet! They were still down. 

Maybe “The Furry Phenom” Wilson has a clause in contract that he has to be the hero, ala Tony Romo? Or maybe Carroll was scared that Lynch would dance around the endzone holding himself in an inappropriate manner during his celebration on national TV and inducing every manner of fine imaginable? Maybe they started celebrating early? Who knows, but under the circumstances, the Patriots didn’t really win as much as the Seahawks gave the game away.

Lynch was averaging almost four and half yards per carry. And you throw.

You had almost 30 seconds and a timeout. And you throw. 

You needed ONE yard. And you throw. 

What’s really going on? Because I know people who don’t even follow sports, who only watched the one game per year because all their friends do and that’s where the food is, and even they know you run the ball in that situation. If you had a Calvin Johnson or a Dez Bryant maybe, just maybe, you try a fade route. Maybe. But everyone else knows to run it. Run it. 

Barkeep. Something strong because now I gotta listen to Pats fans until next season. Yeesh.

Let Me Catch Up Right Quick...

Ramblings Post #252
I been busy, trying to get done what I shoulda had oughta been finished. But that's not important right now. Or rather it is MOST important, because it has pretty much consumed me for the past few days. But I'm not made of stone, so let's do a quick update...

BBB

I'm getting a little long in the tooth to be going out. I know this because I went to a friend's birthday party on Friday night at this little spot in Buckhead and got the odd looks from the doorman. Maybe it's the grey hair. For some reason our party sat under the speaker, so conversation was dicey. And the service was less than stellar, as at one point I opined that the waitress must have had to go to Lenox Mall to get our drinks. And although attractive, at times, the crowd was a little 'young.' And once the bottle hit our table people just started showing up...but since I didn't buy the bottle I was just curious as to random folks dropping by and helping themselves. And the spot didn't start jumping until around 12:30pm...half an hour before I left.

Superbowl...

Although at the house party I had the pleasure to attend my icebreaker was "Have you accepted Peyton Manning as your football savior?", I happen to actually own a very old Seattle Seahawks T-shirt, so I guess that was my team. That and the very vocal Seahawks fan I was sitting next to kept breaking down every play for me, so I was kinda sucked in. Although I didn't see most of the second half because after the kickoff return I decided it was time to just socialize. It was nice little outing if I must say so. And since it will be my last one until the end of the month I need to savor it.

PS3

No, I haven't got the PS4 yet, and wouldn't matter because I don't have the time to play. Okay, I don't have the money right now either, but that's not the point. I turned the PS3 off the other day because I just realized it's been on for almost a month now and I haven't used it. I did check to see what the PS+ crew had up for grabs this month and got a game before they started charging for it again. As far as it bang for your buck you can't beat that PlayStation Plus. But it really doesn't help me now because I already have three games from before I had only barely started before my "project" took over, and we're not starting anything new until this is ova. So, maybe next month little PS. Next month I swear.

My Eating...

Once I was a dedicated follower, indulging sparingly in the sweets. An age passed, and I veered back and forth between what I knew as good and the fried tasty. Then I became a homebody and so eating out became my reason to leave the house...which leads us to today and that sweater that was way too tight. I baked the chicken, cut back the red meat and caught the shrimp on sale. Wheat bread, skim milk.  I have grapes, oranges and watermelon, and just two snacks in the house. And them frozen pizzas. And the bacon in the freezer. I want some ice cream, is that wrong?

TV

My shows are back! House of Lies, Episodes, and Shameless. And Archer has moved to Mondays so I don't forget it. And I just realized I don't watch a whole lot of television after that. Wow.  

And now, back to the salt mines. And just you know, If it don't stop messing with me, I'm gonna take this reality by the reins and impose my order it. So if everything suddenly starts coming with a side of bacon, you'll know why.

Barkeep. A tall coffee. Extra black. I'm not supposed to enjoy it.

The Football Wrap-up

Ramblings Post #212
This does not concern college football, something I usually only watch because it's the hosts alma mater (or favorite team) and the drinks are free. And just so you know, for the next two weeks "Alabama jokes" are on a moratorium. Now, my team did not make the playoffs. So for me, the NFL season is on hiatus. Combined with the fact that the proximity of the Superbowl to the Georgia Bar Exam means I might not watch it all and that any excitement the event might generate will have to boxed up for St. Paddy's Day. Priorities mate, priorities.

I'm going to comment on teams that are NOT the Cowboys first. Do not be alarmed.

Arr - Gee - Three

I don't even like the Redskins, me being a Cowboy fan and all, but what the hell was Shanahan doing? RG3 thought he could play? The player always thinks they can play! Who in the hell cares! I was worried about a few of my friends who are Redskin fans who I think saw the future of the franchise limp off the field in the fourth quarter, but I think I'm more worried about a promising young player ...he's playing for the wrong team, but still... whose career may have been cut short for no good reason at all.

It's not like the Redskins are bereft a backup of some quality, I think Cousins could actually start for a team or two. Now I understand Griffin has torn ligaments, for the second time. I know he's young and invincible, we all were once, but he's about to find out that odds are he's more like Bo Jackson (hip) than Adrian Peterson (knee). They won the division his first season, brought excitement back to DC football, secured Shanahan at least another year, wasn't that enough?

Post his surgery, they're optimistic that he can rehab in six to eight months. Optimistic. For a repair of a repair. Walking is more important than football. And even repaired, they're going to have "adjust" the offense to take this into account. Which makes the novelty of what Griffin can do less effective. Which makes what makes him good...less. That said, here's to hoping to RG3 has a long career. And here's to hoping the 'skin's trade him....Hey, man can dream!

The ground now counts as a player.

And what is this new follow through to the ground rule? If the player has the ball in hand, two feet on the ground, how is that not a catch? I can understand the control issue, but now it seems like one of the basic rules of football since  the push-around matches of Pop-Warner that "the ground can't cause a fumble" has been changed. Which is a fundamental change in football. 

More Games

The NFL, which already has a sixteen game schedule, is considering adding even more games, pushing the total to eighteen. I'm not sure if they intend to eliminate a couple of pre-season games or slide a few more in in the middle, but I'm fairly certain they can't push the Superbowl back any further. Or shouldn't anyway.

And I realize it's all part of the push to give the client "more product" but have they looked at the game? Players get injured, and adding more games means the players are more likely to get injured. Which dilutes the product they're trying to sell. Maybe the coaches will have to strategize like baseball and keep key players on the bench (or not even suit up) for some games...but wait that will only water down the product. No, wait, maybe they could make it illegal to tackle? Think about it... high scoring and no injuries! No, wait, that too would water down the product.

But then, are the owners really worried about watering down the product?

Now onto the Cowboys.

The Cowboys need to address primarily the offensive line and shore up the corners a little bit more. They've got two decent receivers, a good set of defenders if they can all stay healthy, and a quarterback that actually isn't half bad...despite the detractors who swear he's the worse thing throwing since JaMarcus Russell. My brother thinks I am being a little too much of a fanboy...but the only reason they even got to where they were is Romo. On his good days.

Then they fired Rex. Why? He only had middle linebackers and defensive tackles disappear from the roster like the team played in the Bermuda Triangle which is not his fault. Considering what he had to work with injury-wise, the man did a fairly decent job. I liked that he didn't dial up a blitz option every other snap, which must have confounded a play caller or three. Rex just ran out of healthy players. Let's be honest, the only reason Jason Garrett still has a job after a season of single minded play calling is that's he's Jerry Jones handpicked guy. And Jerry's been stewing about making it work HIS way since everyone watching believed reality and gave the credit to Jimmy Johnson instead of the boss. Which would have been how it worked in corporate America, but not in football.

The 'Boys for the past few seasons have a made it a business to make the simple look difficult, and the difficult to look easy. And a large part of it is the coaching. And maybe if they hired an actual general manager, although Jerry has been playing at one so long he may now actually considered to be experienced at the task. Terrible, but experienced. Whatever happened to that petition to the White House to get Jerry separated from the team?

Sigh.

Go Cowboys. It's not like I'm gonna stop being a fan. Through thick and thin.

Barkeep. Ice Tea. I'm studying for the bar....and sitting at it. Oh, I made a pun.

I understand they played a game...

Ramblings Post #170
It is one those American Unofficial Holidays. A day when people gather to watch grown men play game. It is moment of joy to millions, frustration to millions, and a few great commercials to the vast majority of us. Who was I rooting for? Well let's just say, to have the Steelers win on my field would have hurt more than you know.

Last year, around kickoff of the Superbowl, I got a call from a friend with bad news. The game was really more of an afterthought at that point.

Well, technically, the game is usually an afterthought, as I attend most Superbowl parties for the party part of the festivities - the people, the drinks, etc. And since I started school, I haven't been getting out much due to maturity, responsibility and studying. So this year, when my RP hit me up and gave me directions to a little function around the corner from my house, I was ready to go.

You ever go someplace, a little confused and lost, then upon arrival you see a few familiar faces and everything is okay? That's how it was. The directions looked funny, but when I walked in it turned out I knew these guys, they had just moved. And upgraded.

I often thought what I have is a big TV. Well, I walked down stairs to the main party room, and these guys have what is at least a 100 inch HD projection screen TV. It took up the whole wall. The picture was crisp, the players on the field bigger than life sized. That said, I didn't know until today that the Steeler QB threw three interceptions, or that somebody missed a field goal, or that somebody fumbled. It apparently was a very good game.

Now that's a big TV
(Faces blurred because I don't where they claimed they was)

I did meet the bartender's mother. Very nice lady, from Ohio, worked with the Department of Defense. I ran into Slim, who I hadn't seen in a minute and who now wants me to go swimming with her to tone out my thinner frame. I met a lady who drives the pink Cadillac that the good folks at Mary Kay gave her. I got mistaken for the owner of the house (a common party occurrence). I ran into about twenty people that I hadn't seen in ages, including three or four I had to greet with a "hey!" because I don't ever remember getting their name the first time I met them years ago.

Then, as the third quarter came to close...at least I think it was the third quarter, I remembered that had I promised Spanky that I would ride by her Superbowl party for a hot minute.

Spanky's party
(Faces not blurred, because some people might need alibis)

A few minutes later, I pulled at Spanky's little....house. There are a number of adjectives I could use here, but I'm going to say house. The difference between it and house I'd just left was roughly the difference between a private jet and a bi-plane. A very nice bi-plane - hardwoods, Ikea'd out, cozy, good bones - but still a bi-plane. Or at least that's how it felt. I saw a few more folks I hadn't seen in a while, and did get to see the end of the game.

Apparently there is a video of them playing the Micheal Jackson Experience on the Wii at halftime that a lot of hush money is going around to keep out of the public eye. If anyone out there can get their hands on it, I can reward you with $4, a copy of CD it think I got out of gift bag some years ago, and two old copies of Creative Loafing if I haven't thrown them all out.

Two sides of the coin. One party lavish, one homey. My folks at both. You could say I am, and by extension my people, are a little hard to pin down. And you'd be right.

After Spanky turned MJ back on as soon as the clock on the field hit zero and the coach got hit with the orange stuff, I wisely slipped out the back and made my way home. I knew I had work in the morning, partially because I'm dedicated like that...and partially because Hugo claimed he just happened to be having "something" delivered on Monday and wouldn't be in.

Barkeep. The stadium looked great. The 'boys house looked good. A quick one, I got to get back at them books.

I leave on this photo. Six months ago this guy was locked up. Yesterday, just like the former President, he sat in a box at the Superbowl. What a country.

Superbowl....well, it was a Sunday anyway

Ramblings Post #84
Once year, man and boy find the culmination of the greatest sport a spectacle unto itself. It is glory on the gridiron, and fury on the soul as the athletes clash and realize that this is the championship and reasons for standing on the sidelines and holding one's self in abeyance mean little. As the old saying goes, "Pain heals, chicks dig scars, glory lasts forever."

I didn't watch most of the Superbowl. I'll be honest, my team wasn't in it and I was tired of hearing Saints fans scream "Who dat?" and so it wasn't at the top of my list of great things that had to be done. But I'd studied Friday night (before I fell asleep with the book open) and Saturday - reading for two classes done - and only because I'd left my outlines on the printer at work did I actually have a reason to stop. So, armed with my donation liquor I was ready to go see some people whom I didn't work with or go to class with - which constitutes the current sum total of who I see seven days out of seven.

The first party was across town and my directions were make the left into the subdivision, down about a half mile then a quick right and another say quarter mile and there is the house. Simple, right? So I turn into the subdivision and I see cars parked already. But its a big subdivision and so you figure more than one Superbowl party. Well, there was more than one...but those cars I passed coming in? Yeah, the party I'm going to. They had filled the subdivision with all the cars, to the point where I see women headed back to their cars because its just too crowded.

I stopped doing really crowded crowds a while back.

So I turn back, because I'm not going to either of the two other parties I know of...one I didn't RSVP to and the other I don't want to see the host. I stopped to grab some chicken and my RP calls, the one who had set me onto the first party. Only now it's another party downtown. Cool. But as I leave, the phone rings again and its Shade.

And let's just Death can really ruin an afternoon.

Shade drove down from DC to be there for her girl Scoop and I'm guessing will help her ride out the worst of her own personal storm. Earlier that week, Scoop's husband, a marathoner of a young 37 was struck down by a heart attack, so there was much mystification and surprise. Although there was much prayer, God had other plans. By the time we got on the phone, the worst of it behind them, it was mid-way though the 2nd quarter and Shade just needed a friendly ear. By the time she'd gone through all her emotions, it was nearing the end of the 3rd quarter. Let's just say I wasn't really in the mood for football after that.

I did however, see the Manning intercepti0n that sealed it. And just like the entire rest of the season, the Saints got lucky again. I did like the Onion's head line..."Superbowl win moves New Orleans up to No. 3 power ranking."

So ended up doing my third favorite Superbowl pastime this morning at work: Watching Superbowl commercials. Two commercials, okay three commercials caught my eye...

The non-commercial with Dave, Oprah and Jay. That was unexpected considering how much trash Dave had talked about Jay the last month.

The remake of the "Nothing but net" commercial with Lebron and Dwight Howard. The first commercial was great and basically invented the catch phrase, the second one by making it a dunk contest... should have have stayed on the Ad agency storyboards. The original with Jordan and Bird, you believed they could make the first couple of shots (and they actually did) but from the looks of it, you needed digital artistry to make these two new already ridiculously athletic guys pull off some of the dunks they proposed. The kicker when Bird showed back up and stole their lunch was funny...until neither of the younger athletes was supposed to have recognized him...which was stupid.

And Betty White's snicker commercial was inspired. Betty has always been feisty outside of her Golden Girl persona, and she was hilarious with the retort "that's not what your girlfriend said last night!" That she's the one getting all the attention is interesting though, because compared to the 100 plus year old Abe Vigoda, the ill fated quarterback at the end, she is a veritable spring chicken.

The rest of it was a mess though.

Oh, One more. The Volkswagen commercial where they kept punching each other was confusing, until the quick shot of Stevie Wonder punching Tracy Morgan in the arm and going "Red one", with Tracy belligerently and appropriately mystified as to how he was able to do that. That was cute.

Barkeep...it's the Superbowl. Make it a Bud Light.
(no monies or promises were made for this endorsement, but I am open to offers...)

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.