I am happy for Tony Dungy, after all he's been through. I am (gulp) even grudgingly happy for Adam Vinatieri. I feel terribly for Lovie Smith and Brian Urlacher. I think Rex Grossman is probably out of a job. I am thinking also of Brian, who must be totally devastated.
Peyton Manning has been named the MVP, and so now we can say officially that there is no God. Good night.
Marvin Harrison is hurt and the Bears just ripped off a great run, now that I've returned from pouting. Then the Bears get pulled back to a 1st and 20 because of a stupid holding penalty.
"Bears can't do anything right," grumbles my dad. Urgh. The fact that they're only down five points is both amazing and maddening. It means I'm still hoping against hope.
An amazing catch by Muhsin Muhammed, and now... Rex Grossman throws an interception.
Which is run back by the Colts for a touchdown.
Seriously? That was the worst thing I've ever seen in my life. I mean ever.
Peyton Manning jumps off the bench, stadium jacket flying, huge grin on his face, celebrating. No team in Super Bowl history has ever come back from larger than a ten-point deficit; the Bears are now down by 12. I hate this. I truly hate this.
I don't know what it is...I had a much calmer attitude when the Colts beat the Pats than I do now. Maybe I was in denial or shock or something, but I am seething at this point. I think it's because I know that the last six years (not to mention his college career) of choking notwithstanding, if Peyton wins this game, there are any number of national football commentators who cannot wait to anoint him the greatest quarterback of all time, cannot wait to claim that this single victory after repeated failures erases all the doubts. If Peyton wins this game, nothing else will be taken into consideration--not Rex Grossman's sheer ineptitude on the other side of the ball, not Manning's own overall postseason record. Someone, whether the league or the networks, desperately wants Peyton Manning to be the best quarterback ever, and a win here would give them that much more fodder with which to fabricate that legend.
By the way, in the time it took me to type this, Rex Grossman has thrown another interception. I really don't know which quarterback I despise more right now. It's hard to even root for Rex, despite the fact that he is the lesser of two evils.
Peyton sacked. That's more like it.
Bears, after the next play, pushing and shoving. That's not a good sign.
Colts will punt. Stadium sounds all but silent. "Why the hell not. Grossman sucks, why not just let him run the clock out?" is my dad's comment.
If anybody--I mean anybody--attempts to compare this game on Peyton's part to any of Tom Brady's Super Bowls, I will...well, I'll feel like screaming, at least. But the bitch of it is I know they will, and I probably won't actually scream. You know, out loud.
So far, BTW, careerbuilder gets my vote for best commercials. The performance-review-as-torture-in-the-jungle spot is a goodun also.
Theoretically, the Bears are still in this thing. Six minutes to go, on the 45, down 12 points.
However, four backup defensive linemen are in for the Colts and still Grossman is throwing wild and the Bears' receivers are getting stuffed. Finally, this Bears possession mercifully concludes with the Colts taking over on downs.
I had a dream once that I had to suit up and play in an NFL football game. Not that I was suddenly someone with NFL abilities, but that I, Beth, person off the street, was given some shoulder pads and a jersey and told to play in a real pro football game. It was a terrifying nightmare--I basically just tried to stay physically alive. I'm wondering if that's how Rex Grossman has been feeling tonight.
Phil Simms mentions he just had the "honor" of voting for the game's MVP. Gee, I wonder who he might have cast his vote for.
My dad was just incredulously insisting that Dominic Rhodes or Joseph Addai are by rights the MVP at this point when I suggest that Peyton is almost certainly going to be the one elected. So I bet him ten bucks it would be Peyton. He wouldn't take the bet.
22 seconds left with the Bears on the field and the Colts are dumping the Gatorade over Dungy. Klassy!
Didn't realize the numbers were so bad for the Bears--95 total yards of offense in the first half!? Amazing they're only two points behind, although until I saw that laid out on a CBS graphic the game from play-to-play hadn't even seemed like that.
Come on Bears. Get it together.
Manning falls. Clark picks up a yard. Thank God that play didn't go any further, or we'd be seeing / hearing about Peyton's heroic throw from a forty-five degree angle for the next six goddamn months.
Colts just keep getting first downs. Utecht pays the Urlacher toll, though, catching a pass from Manning. Why hasn't Urlacher hit Manning directly yet is what I want to know. Looks like Peyton can't claim "problems with protection." You know, again.
Addai gets another first down. He has to be close to a hundred yards. I'm also wondering if he rubbed himself down wiith bacon grease at halftime, the way the Bears are (not) tackling him.
"Good ol' Edgerrin James is just kicking himself down Arizona," says my dad from the recliner.
Urlacher hucked Hinja's helmet after the Colts offensive lineman lost it on the play. "Don't be stinky, Brian," my dad admonishes. I personally think Brian needs to be a little stinkier if I want to avoid a weeklong bout with Colts-championship-induced agita.
Bears laying back now, Manning picking them apart. Perhaps they had the right idea with everyone up front after all.
Addai again. He practically has 100 yards on this drive alone. "Almost time for Rhodes to come in and score the touchdown," says my dad.
Hold the phone. Clark makes a difficult completion just inside the first down marker but short of the first down. Peyton flaps his arms, Peyton Manning Faces and is clearly mouthing, "Come on, Dallas, make the first down!" What an asshole. I hope Vinatieri misses another one, just to make him even more pissed off. Colts now challenging the fact that they failed to make the play whether or not there were too many Bears on the field.
God, I hate the Colts. I hate the fact that they are ahead. I want them to lose. Lose lose lose.
Vinatieri lining up. If you'd told me a year ago I'd be sitting here watching Adam Vinatieri kicking a field goal in the Super Bowl for the Colts, I might have just bit down on my cyanide capsule and had done with it. But oddly, now that it's here, I'm strangely numb.
E-Trade commercial decent but not great. Coke again, this time with a CGI spectacular showing Coke being made in a fanciful, magical world of faeries and sprites inside a vending machine. Dumb.
Halfway through the quarter and Rexy's about to take the field for the first time. Here's hoping this is the end of that trend.
You know, I've never been a huge Sheryl Crow fan, but this Revlon commercial--a sponsored six-week tour intended to show her hair color out of a box didn't fade featuring weak attempts at humorous frustration from her "colorist" with, you know, some music happening in there I guess--just makes me depressed. I've never been a huge Sheryl Crow fan, but I had respected her more than that.
Bears get a first down. For once.
Booger sacks Rex. Wierdest sentence in the history of the NFL. Rex also tripped while running away from Booger. Fuck. Rex then drops the ball and lays down for another sack.
"Rex, you thinking about your after-Super-Bowl party here or what?" My dad demands of the screen. "What's his rating, minus-2?"
This is truly pathetic. "Tough to maintain a drive when you can't manage the quarterback-center exchange." We are bitter in this household. Truly bitter.
Office warriors commercial for careerbuilder--delivery guy wielding bags of Chinese food like nunchukas--pretty delightful. The rest of this commercial break pretty sub par. I'm about ready to delcare Super Bowl commercials officially overrated. Or just over. Take your pick.
Rhodes runs about 45 yards. Facemask penalty, personal foul, half the distance to the goal for good measure. Eventually it comes to a field goal, 22-14 Colts.
I am just now beginning to prepare myself for the painful fact that Peyton Manning may very well win the Super Bowl. After having beaten the Patriots to get there. Based at least in part on field goals by Adam Vinatieri. And they trailed through part of the first half, meaning this will be framed as another incredible comeback, seven-point favorites or no seven-point favorites.
I'm going to need a moment.
P.S. No one wants Marvin Harrison to have been out of bounds more than me with that catch on a Colts 2nd and 13 with 30 seconds left to go in the quarter. But he wasn't.
Question: Why isn't Prince doing any of his own songs?
My mother commented that Prince doesn't look as sopping wet as he should be in the driving rain. "That's because he's impervious to rain," Steve says.
"Set..." I say to Steve in the Dave Chappelle as Prince Voice. "Match."
"See all those little honeys and chickies out there jumping around? The field's going to be totally fucked up now," my dad says.
Ah, now he's doing "Purple Rain."
"Is this almost over or what here?" dad moans.
Wooo hoo hoo hoo...Woo hoo hoo hoo...
First commercial of the second quarter is a Coke takeoff on Grand Theft Auto Vice City showing the main character helping old ladies, etc. Meh.
Benson now questionable--Knee. Yikes.
You know what I liked? I liked on the pregame show when Dan Marino asked Peyton, "If you win, would it even be possible for you to do any more commercials?" A rare departure from Colts homerism on Dan's part. But I guess all bets are off now that his modern likeness might go further than he ever did.
Phew, just polished off a second helping of my dad's Cocktail Meatballs. Urrgh. Food coma coming on.
Vinatieri lines up for a field goal attempt. Shockingly, no Patriots reference.
Fake-Dalmation Budweiser commercial just so-so. Map-monster commercial follows. Not even sure what to say about that one.
My personal vote for the best commercial is the one where the guys all strip down and start washing the Chevy with the girls in it. "Tell me when it's over." Brilliant--turning the typical bikini-car-wash ad on its head.
Colts now at the 40. Another bazillion-yard play to Harrison. Bears blitz, Clark catches it over the middle at the 20 for 17 yards, touches off spooge-fest in the booth about Peyton's impeccable footwork in the pocket. Colts run attempt stuffed. "Urlacher got him," notes my dad.
Urlacher again, this time keeping Dallas Clark from a first down. "URLACHER," notes my dad.
Rhodes' second effort on the next play gets the first down. Rain has not even let up once this game. Rhodes to the one yard line all but untouched. Same trap play that won the game for the Colts over New England. Colts touchdown on the next play. Bears now a point behind. Peyton now indicating he wants to go for two in order to makeup for the earlier botched extra point. Reason #1341 to hate that petty little pantywaist.
Bud Light commercial with guys slapping each other in the face...no comprendo.
Troy Palamalu, as shown on the United Way commercial, has some beautiful, beautiful hair.
Colts have now scored in every quarter this postseason. I kind of hate life right now.
GM commercial mocking suicide. Great. Coke commercial with historical bottles ok, but what's with dropping the corporate-citizenship angle with all the subtlety of an Acme anvil?
Rexy now behind the eight ball. Colts starting to swagger. Rain an absolute downpour. Benson now reported out for the rest of the game. Bears a yard short of the first down. Tackle made by a man called "Booger." Oy vey.
Colts ball. Please for the love of God do not let them score.
Two minute warning: Addai, first down. My mom has said the Colts should give it to him on any play. "She can handicap a game, eh?" my dad says.
Reggie Wayne, incomplete. Clock ticking. Fumble, Bears recover. Can they even remotely begin to capitalize here?
REX GROSSMAN FUMBLES.
REX GROSSMAN FUMBLES.
REX GROSSMAN FUCKING FUMBLES.
I'd say something about the "Who's winning? We all are" commercial but OMG I STILL CANNOT GET OVER THAT FUMBLE.
Ticking down to 30 seconds, Colts on 25 yard line, Colts stuffed. "WHO WAS IT? URLAACHERRRRR." Guess who said that.
"He's your boyfriend, huh," my mom says bemusedly.
The old-guy Coke commercial tain't bad. Timeout by the Bears with 2 seconds--even Lovie Smith laughs about the idea of icing Vinatieri.
VINATIERI MISSED THE KICK.
VINATIERI MISSED THE KICK.
VINATIERI MISSED THE FUCKING KICK.
Halftime.
Why must we as football fans be subjected to the entire Manning family home-movie archive? Did we have to watch Tom Brady play baseball in high school before any of his Super Bowls? Then why are we watching 13-year-old Peyton's tango lessons?
Pregame performance note: it's appropriate, I think, that Cirque de Soleil and Prince are playing Peyton Manning's Super Bowl. That is all.
My dad has a man-crush on Brian Urlacher. It's funny. He gets all giddy when Urlacher's on the screen and says things repeatedly like: "He's a freakin' animal." or "Urlacher doesn't care, he just wants to go drink beer and bash heads with his buddies." and "Urlacher, what a moose he is." He loves Brian Urlacher. Not that I can blame him--Urlacher is impressive.
Devin Hester just ran back the first-ever opening kickoff return for a touchdown. And gloriously, the first full-on Peyton Manning Face of the postseason is in full bloom on the sideline. However, shades of Ohio State-Florida are dancing in my head. Still quite a substantial bit of football left to play.
This is also crucial for the underdog Bears: they absolutely must not wind up playing from behind. Also crucial for the Bears: the rain that has begun driving down in earnest. This is the first Super Bowl in recent memory that's been a "weather game" of any kind. Advantage: Bears.
Following two false-start penalties for the Colts (nervous?), Peyton throws his first interception of the game. Let's hope it's not his last.
First commercials are both very violent, for beer of some kind and Doritos, and kind of eh. The Blockbuster commercial with clicking and dragging the (literal) mouse is the first to get guffaws in our house.
Three and out for Rex and Co. Not good.
Jim Gaffigan commercial for Sierra Mist a dud. "This means of course that we will be watching it incessantly for the next three months," my mom says. Second commercial slightly better. But not much. "That's five million two for two dogs," quoth my dad. They are already remeniscing about the Blockbuster commercial.
Addai has ripped off some good runs. Urlacher stands him up, though, on his second attempt this series. "Urrrrlacher," my dad growls.
This is also the first Super Bowl in recent memory I won't spend the end of in the bathroom. Which is really too bad.
Colts marching. Closeup of Peyton's thumb. Replay of footage of when Peyton injured his thumb. From multiple angles. In slow motion. First down to Dallas Clark. I need a stiff drink.
Reggie Wayne wide open at the 15, six points. It's gonna be a long night.
Hunter the Punter dropped the extra point snap. A silver lining. Whoever's got 7 and 7 in their Super Bowl squares is tearing their hair out right about now.
Toyota commercial: computer animated or no? "No way any stunt man has those kind of nads," is my father's assessment. FedEx is judged to have wasted $2.6 million. Auctioneer wedding, very good. We need to hire this guy for our wedding.
"Blockbuster's still got it," my mom says, meaning her vote.
Loose ball on the kickoff--Colts recover. I'm going to grab some more Super Bowl Snacks. At least some part of this game should be enjoyable.
Great. No sooner do I get up than Peyton makes an error and compounds it by being a little bitch, according to my dad's description of what happened. Peyton fumbled, then ran away rather than diving into the pile. "He ran like a sonofabitch," my dad says. Bears now second and goal at the Colts four. No freakin' gain. Now Rexy has to throw.
Muhsin Muhammad scores. Peyton Manning Peyton Manning Faces on the sideline. In the rain. I hope the whole game isn't this much of a bipolar experience.
Snickers commercial homophobic and unfunny. Schick commercial misogynistic and not even new. Film preview for Pride--didn't they already make this movie, only with basketball? Chevy commercial sucks. Mencia commercial excellent. Bud Light...Bood Light. Bud Light...Bood Light.
Bears BUSTING right across the line. TV cuts to replay of the Reggie Wayne touchdown shortly after Addai gets his ass kicked. Nope, no bias at all. Bears stack the box and bring the house. Ball right through the hands of intended receiver Moorehead, who has eyes like Reche Caldwell's. Bears ball.
NICE catch by Berrian--referees ACTUALLY DEBATING whether or not he was forced out. Replays show even the debate to be ridiculous. Phil Simms: "Tough for me to say." Nope. Noooo bias at all.
Bears' turn to fumble. "You could hear that hit, Jim, what contact!" Simms, why don't you go put on your blue foam finger and let an actual unbiased expert call color for this game? Although, the Manning apologists never relented even when the Pats were beating them every time--Bears of course don't have a prayer of balanced coverage. That much was established even leading up to this game. So we move on.
Bears have everybody up front still. If Marvin Harrison hadn't dropped the ball just now (3rd and 9 play) it would've been a 20-yard gain for the Colts. This might not be the best strategy here...though Colts have gone three and out again, so what do I know.
Neutral-zone infraction on the Bears. Textbook punt to the 5. My father declares Sanders' form tackle to cause Benson's fumble the best hit of the game so far.
Bears' first play from scrimmage with just over a minute to go in the first quarter and there's two Bears down. Benson rolled over Tait and got his bell rung. Helmet-to-helmet, late hit. That's the kind of shit that should be a penalty, and maybe we'd have fewer Ted Johnson stories.
Bears try to go downtown but Grossman cautious, throws outside and the play's out of bounds. Heads up on him. Bears try to run and fail.
David Spade in da house.
End of first quarter. Who's got 4 and 6?
I've never been a fan of Ron "Wrong" Borges. Ever since it appeared whatever chip he has on his shoulder about Belichick made him look quite the fool throughout the three Super Bowl championship years, I've written him off. Whatever the reason for it, as a fan of the local team, I am not interested in reading the local paper for a bashing and second-guessing of that team, especially when said team is winning three Super Bowls in four years.
Meanwhile, as a blogger, I'm always interested in the "indie" news sites and blogs on my teams, and as such I have a subscription to Cold Hard Football Facts' newsletter (along with the Football Outsiders, which pretty much comprises the shortlist of the best football sites on the 'Net). The site, written in flippant style and staffed by pigskin enthusiasts who refer to themselves proudly as "trolls", has good football analysis and a fun edge in the tone.
So this just came in my inbox this morning:
File under: Hmmm, very interesting
The Cold, Hard Football Facts are known for original, entertaining, and deadly accurate gridiron analysis, and for a vast command of pigskin history.
Some folks in the sports media are not.
Ron Borges of the Boston Globe, for example, is known for a very loose interpretation of journalistic standards. So it might not surprise some people to find that he recently wrote a story that had numerous similarities to a story the Cold, Hard Football Facts published two years earlier.
We don’t know if Borges culled his story from the pages of Cold, Hard Football Facts.com.
But we do know this: he wrote an article about the 1940s-50s Cleveland Browns for The Boston Globe in January that had numerous similarities to an article we published about the 1940s-50s Cleveland Browns in December 2004. We also know (and can prove) that he routinely peruses the pages of the Cold, Hard Football Facts.
Here’s our story from December 2004.
Here’s his story from January 2007.
Here’s the story behind the story, with links to both articles and a little background on our original piece from two years ago and the numerous reports on the Cleveland Browns dynasty we've published over the years.
Essentially, no publication in America has spent more time than the Cold, Hard Football Facts discussing the Cleveland Browns dynasty of the 1940s-50s. Then, suddenly, a story on the topic appears under the Borges byline, in a newspaper in a part of the country in which you think readers would have little interest in a 55-year-old team from Cleveland.
Even the time frame referenced in the two articles (1946 to 1955) is exactly the same. The set up and the payoff in each piece aren't too much different, either.
Did Borges plagiarize the CHFF? We don't know, and we wouldn't make that kind of accusation. But you look at the stories and decide for yourself.
At the very least we (and now you) know this: if you want great historical analysis and context you'll find it in Cold, Hard Football Facts.com long before you'll find it in the pages of the mainstream sports media.
That conclusion is irrefutable. That conclusion, in other words, is a Cold, Hard Football Fact.
So I read both pieces carefully, side by side. And it's easy to tell why CHFF had to shy away from a blatant accusation of plagiarism--if you define plagiarism as the lifting of entire sections of text, word for word, then Borges is not guilty of that. There isn't anything between the two articles that I could find where Borges' piece uses the same exact language as the CHFF piece.
Then there's the definition of plagiarism as a kind of idealogical dishonesty--the act of a lazy or unoriginal thinker who must base his or her work entirely on the ideas of others. This is a bit of a grey area, and difficult to prove as well. There is quite a long time between the CHFF piece and Borges' piece. One question that stood out in my mind, despite the CHFF claims that Borges is a regular peruser of their site, is why he would have waited so long to use it? The Patriots had another playoff game in 2005 for which Borges could have cooked up the same angle. Also, in both cases the facts used are readily available--there isn't any original interview in either of these two specific pieces.
So then what it comes down to is, did Borges plagiarize the idea--the comparison between the Browns' dynasty and the Patriots'? Does that fit the definition of plagiarism or ripoff, either? After all, we are all informed by what we read or experience on a daily basis. If I read a lot of Roger Angell and then frequently attempt to write in lyrical language about baseball, is that plagiarism? If I read Baseball and Philosophy and then begin analyzing games in combination with Kierkegaard in this blog, is that a ripoff?
Still, I will say this: reading Borges' piece, the entire Browns section reads a bit awkwardly. He discusses other dynasties before getting into the Browns, but then does much more in-depth analysis of the Browns--the headline is also Browns-focused, not about the Pats.
Nearer the end, it grows harder and harder to understand the point Borges is trying to make. He had begun with stiff-sounding praise of the Pats, then delved into the discussion of dynasty, and then spent a majority of the piece's paragraphs discussing the Browns dynasty in a way that seems tangential--on its own, without step-by-step comparisons with the Patriots or any kind of paragraph of sentence which reestablishes the relationship between the facts about the Browns and the occasion he has to write about it, which is the upcoming AFC Championship game.
It isn't until the very end of the piece that he wrenches things back around with the following conclusion:
The beauty of that is the Patriots don't need to be remembered 50 years from now in the same way the Browns of that long-ago era are today. The Patriots don't need anything else to be remembered as the dominant team of their decade, not even another win over Peyton Manning.
Huh?
At the very least, it's not the finest sports column I've ever read. From my admittedly subjective viewpoint, it does read like the Browns discussion is somehow "tacked on" in Borges' article. Whether or not that means Borges lifted the idea or simply wrote a column that needed more thorough editing and revision, however, is entirely open to debate.
The CHFF article, meanwhile, written in the context of a regular-season game between 2004's dominant Patriots and the modern, hapless Cleveland Browns, makes no such claim at all, instead framing it as something Cincinnati fans can take comfort in, despite the fact that the Patriots are going to put the whuppin' to their team. It's a theme in keeping with CHFF's "no mercy" values and the further discussion of the Browns is introduced in a way that makes sense.
So in the end it's difficult if not impossible to say whether or not Ron Borges stole his idea from CHFF, or why he'd wait two and a half years to do it. But I do have to agree with the point CHFF made in their newsletter--that they made the comparison, and the connection, and wrote about it better, in the first place.
That's why I get their newsletter in my inbox every week or so. And I haven't read a Ron Borges column since it was linked by CHFF, because they think he might have ripped them off.
In other words, this blog post is basically a rehash of the CHFF email. I hope that doesn't mean I'm a plagiarist.
An amazing, fraught, barn-burner of a football game. So far this year the playoffs--especially this most recent round--have been inspiring to watch. Amazing, elevated play that makes me think of the Don Cheadle "Playoffs" commericials several years ago.
Ultimately, the Bears beat the Seahawks in overtime, 27-24, thanks to a 49-yard kick (matching his career high) by Robbie Gould to win it. As he lined up to make the kick, my mother (originally from the midwest) gauged the distance as shown by the on-field camera, and said, "Geez, it's like he's got to kick it to Des Moines or something."
I called Brian as the game went into overtime, meaning to be supportive, but got no answer. I guess he was either busy or didn't want to chance the idea that I was calling to taunt. At any rate, I tried him again shortly after Gould's kick and the first time, all I got on the other end was screaming.
What a game. Both in terms of today's contest, and in terms of "The Game" in general. What a redemptive, life-affirming, joyous thing.
P.S. Time now for the Main Event--Pats Chargers. The pundits have near-universally picked the Chargers (aside from Boomer Esiason on CBS--we can always count on him to be a Pats homer). Worth a read if you haven't already: great article in the Globe today by Jackie MacMullan on Tom Brady.
P.P.S. A note on today's All-Alphabet team roster: Ayanbadejo, Brendon; Ogunleye, Adewale; Koutouvides, Niko; Obomanu, Ben; Plackemeier, Ryan; Tatupu, Lofa. I bet Joe Buck had to do some extra warm-up exercises before calling this game today.
P.P.P.S. I wish I could link to / post the State Street SPDRs commercial featuring the wild baseball pitcher and the chicken mascot, but YouTube is a shadow of its former self...
(AP Photo/Alex Brandon)
The Philadelphia Eagles-New Orleans Saints game began tonight with the most brutal hit I can ever recall seeing. Reggie Bush was in the flat and totally exposed, arms up over his head to bring down a high pass from Drew Brees in one of the first plays from scrimmage.
A Philadelphia defensive back hit Bush when the runningback had both feet completely off the ground, slamming a meaty shoulder into the runningback's gut, as a routine screen play became an on-field mugging; the defensman rode Bush to the ground, where he landed, shoulder-to-stomach, with a palpable thud.
Now. You need to rewind a few months ago to a game the Saints played in which Reggie Bush did his signature hurdling move over the head of his defender, cartwheeling into the end zone and leaping immediately back to his feet to spike the ball and pose for the cameras.
"You know," my father reflected, "One of these days now that he's in the big leagues, they're going to figure out he likes to go up in the air like that, and one guy's gonna go up top and another guy's gonna go down low and they're gonna clean his freakin' clock for him."
So the only thing off about my father's prophecy was that only one Eagles defender was involved in this assault, not two. Reggie did undoubtedly get his clock cleaned.
But he tried to "man up" immediately afterward, springing back up again at first, but then as if on delay the hit seemed to aftershock on him and he crumpled to the ground. The cameraman zoomed in and then quickly cut away to a crowd shot just after the first vomit began to tumble out of Bush's mouth.
A savage hit. Beyond brutal.
But now cut forward--it's nearing midnight on the East Coast as the Saints make the final first down while time winds down on the clock. The stadium, whose noise all night suggests there will be tens of thousands of people with no voices left tomorrow in the New Orleans area, cranks itself up again one notch louder, as the camera shows Deuce McAllister staring off into space, on the sideline in the black-and-gold uniform now. McAllister has tears standing in his eyes.
Around him in the Superdome--hell on Earth just over a year ago--a bowed and beaten city rejoices, the vindicated Bush included. It's a story that reminds me in magnitude of the Red Sox World Series three years ago, the sense of deep meaning for an entire region. It has a different feeling, though, not so much the reward for a lifetime of penitence but instead an outpouring of grief and healing like New Orleans funerals have always been, jazzy affairs with oompah-ing brass bands dancing down the street. Where there was unspeakable horror after the devastation of Katrina, in the very same seats where people suffered after the storm, tonight fans are reclaiming some joy without stopping to question it.
You couldn't write this into a screenplay nowadays. People would call bullshit immediately.
I'll tell you, if I didn't have a team already, I would be a Saints fan this season. And maybe, even still, a part of me is.
P.S. Peyton Manning's smug and infuriating mug appeared on the cameras victorious once again today after the Colts trounced the Ravens. I dare not speak what I'm beginning to think might be coming...
In the first game today, the Colts pulverized the Chiefs, 23 to 8. Bah. "Well," was my dad's take when I called him from the bar at Chili's to bitch about it, "The Colts were pretty heavily favored, you know. The Chiefs have had to play out of their minds must to make the playoffs."
Yes, well. Bah.
Anyway, on the NBC broadcast I caught over dinner, they showed a home movie of all three Manning brothers playing football in little uniforms complete with jerseys and helmets in what looks like a back yard. Little Eli goes flailing into Peyton and together they go collapsing into the ground. Peyton comes up clutching at his miniature Cleveland Browns jersey, making the most extreme Peyton Manning Face ever captured on film, and screeching, "He grabbed my neck." Little PM then goes running off crying. The camera swings to follow him as he Nancy-runs away from the whole scene. Closer to the camer, his oldest brother looks back as if to say, "WTF is he even doing?"
Why Peyton would not have sued somebody to keep this footage from airing is beyond me.
Oh, and no I will not be a good sport about all of Peyton's commercials. I know Tommy's are no great shakes either, but come on. The one for Gatorade where Peyton's head edited onto some muscley guy's body hatches out of a football that they always show just before the commercial for Derek Jeter cologne? Give me a break. I only really grudgingly like the one where Eli drops the eggs, and even then I think it's because Eli's in it with him. I'm not a big fan of Eli either, but next to Peyton, whether in the commercial or that home video, he makes things at least funny sometimes.
How weird was it when Herm Edwards and Tony Dungy hugged midfield after the game? Prior to this game I had wondered if the two of them have ever been seen in the same room together. It was almost as weird as seeing Ty Law stalking the sidelines the loser while PM smiled victoriously behind the microphone on the opposite sideline.
Anyway, I can always still speculate about Andy Reid and Mike Holmgren...
