Week 13 Overreactions
Ahhh Thanksgiving; a time for booze gluttony and football. We had all four of our teams competing this weekend (and Monday) in three different games. We saw one team dominate a potential playoff team, one team trip over their own feet en route to a gut wrenching loss and two teams whose games vs one and other are normally classified as pillow fights, but calling this particular tilt by that name would be an insult to sororities everywhere.
As always, it’s worst to first so here we go.
I went to bed at halftime on Monday night thinking that those lovable losers (ok, maybe not loveable…) the New York Jets would not be occupying this spot. But the Jets are in fact the Jets and they are pretty terrible at football so they lost. The Jets came out like gang busters in the first half, running at will and doing the one thing that can prevent Geno Smith from singlehandedly losing the game for you. But at some point the other team figures out that you are running the ball on every play and you are eventually forced to throw the ball. And that’s when the Jets lose. Sorry Jets fans, your team blows. But hey, think of the positives; in just a few short months you’ll get to be super pissed off at the invalid that Woody’s next idiot GM decides to draft. Personally, I’m hoping they go whole hog and trade the farm for RGMe but I feel like my wings will melt if we fly so high.
Now we move onto the team that went into the weekend riding high, considered prohibitive Super Bowl favorites. Even I had forgotten how horrible Devon McCourty is at taking adequate angles, or how much of a freaking stupid, stubborn son of a bitch, jerk faced loser that Josh McDaniels is. Well those two things came busting through the wall like Andy Reid headed to a pool party that is in need of refreshment. The Pats opened the game very much like they have all season long, by failing to do anything with their opening drive. Then not much later, Tom Brady was seen with his hands on his hips with a look of utter distain for his entire team on his face. And last but not least, once the Pats finally were able to move the ball a little bit, they were forced with a fourth down and short (I’d say less than 2) from right about midfield. Like cowards, they punted. And that was that. If you play like team of unics, you generally don’t win in the NFL.
Now that we’ve put that ugliness behind us, we have a whole new kind of ugliness to show you; The Miami Dolphins. The Dolphins are proof that you can bedazzle that old jean jacket from 1985 all you want, it’s still a smelly old rag that will fall apart as soon as it rains. The Fins like to show up and look tough against some of the better teams in the league (although never really beat any of them), but when you put them in a dirty game against a rancid opponent, they show you who they really are. That same, ratty, old team that will never regain the old glory that most of their fans were not alive to see. The Fins were wretched on Monday night and had they not been playing the most incompetent group of football players this side of the Mississippi, they surely would have lost badly. The Fins won, but any fans that were content with that game are….well Dolphin fans.
So in a place that is very new to them this time of year, I present to you; the Buffalo Bills. The Bills beat a team that was headed for a division title before they ran into the rampaging herd from Buffalo. The Bills defense is no doubt legit, and they were rewarded for their stellar play this season by being the first team in the NFL to have the opportunity to beat the snot out of John Football. The Bills thrashed the Browns, even though they took the first half off in an effort to spot the Cleveland Steamers a few points (which the Browns were too inept to accomplish) and in spite of their completely inept offense. The Bills are playing some great football ever since “Snow-mageddon” galvanized the hearts and minds of the South Buffalo region. This is a team on a mission and if they can find a way to sneak into the playoffs; one to fear as well.
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