Sorry for another long absence, readers. To hold you over until this site gets back up and running at full steam, here's a very (very) quick check-in with our friend Randy about the NFL playoffs, and the bitterness inside this New England Sports fan.
Randy: Who do you want in the AFC title game? J - E - T -S, Jets, Jets, Jets!
Blogometrics: I agree. It's funny when your two least favorite teams match up in a title game.
I'm going with the Jets, because I don't mind Rex Ryan - at least he brings personality to the team - and I can't think of any instance within the realm of reality where I would be rooting for Peyton Manning. Even if he was fighting to save mankind, I'd still get a kick out of that little tantrum he throws when, ahem, his team lets him down.
This is really an awful scenario for the New England fan, though. We're so cynical that we've hate Brett "America's Hero" Favre since long before the national backlash set in, we can't be compelled to follow a "feel good" New Orleans team, because those things just don't fly around here - and the Jets and the Colts are 1 and 1A in the rival department. Even watching the Chargers lose last week - which I love to do every January - was less of a thrill when accompanied by "The Mark Sanchez Experience" - which consists of watching Sanchez play about 5% better than JaMarcus Russell, but acting like he's just won an intergalactic power lottery every time he throws a touchdown pass, then give a post game press conference that reminds me that I'll eventually need to find a baby-sitter for my 6 month old.
The New England fan, especially the jerks like me, are looking down the barrel of any one of four pretty grim "Sports Center breakfasts" the day after the Super Bowl. We're either going to get A) "Favre's Super Send off...or is it?" - and repeatedly watch Mr. Gunslinger engage in the phoniest celebration since Kobe Bryant jumped around the Staples Center court like a high school drama actor re-enacting a Black Eyed Peas concert; followed by Favre's teary, blubbering, teary, Vicodin induced, teary, maybe, teary, I don't know, teary post game presser; B) the moment of conception for Rick Reilly's next awful book - "Redemption", where he chronicles how a ravaged city circled the wagons around a QB no one wanted - gasp! - a QB with his own tumultuous past - double gasp!! - and now, miraculously, the bayou levees could hold back a flood of molten lava being spewed by an army of Godzillas, because, well, those New Orlean-ites have been through so much. Compelling, sure, but I don't think New Orleans fans will feel any better than we NE fans felt in 2002 - our local team won the Super Bowl for the first time. Whenever the sports media tries to convey the "this is more than sports" angle, they lose me - kind of like when an audience applauds a motivational speaker's tale of overcoming alcoholism, it's like "Congratulations, I guess. I mean, I'm not wasted, either - yay me." C) The aforementioned Sanchez Experience, and the knowledge that the "Over Exposed Mediocre QB" phenomenon that we most recently witnessed with Eli Manning, will be unleashed upon America like a drunken Rex Ryan being released into a Wendy's kitchen, or D) The sudden mathematical awakening of the Midwestern United States, wherein the more complex theory of the decade actually ending this coming December 31st will be resurrected...along with the traditional Midwestern math approach of '2 is more than 3' - and we'll get to hear about how the Colts are truly the team of the decade. All while watching clips of Peyton Manning grasping the Lombardi trophy like his alternate universe self grasping an 8 pound trout in the Southwestern Tennessee Regional B.A.S.S. Masters amateur tournament. All while just having sat through the latest Peyton Manning commercial, where he dresses up like an astronaut to tell you that if your Sony Bravia won't get reception on the moon, the Space Station gift shop takes Mastercard. He's a hoot.
In any event, any one of the subsequent Sports Illustrated "special subscription offers" should get me drinking again, so at least I'll be able to hit the motivational speaking circuit in a couple of years.