The Mayor of Man Town is a Chick???


Where did I go?

Nowhere, fast, that’s where. I apologize for the absence of new material. After one year and 136 true Blogs (those measly little Asides don’t count) I figured I was due for a little R n’ R. That and some pesky work projects conspired to drain the glass of its sand, leaving me with precious little time to log on and regale you all with the sordid details of my so-called life.

Since I’ve been gone there have been some happenings that deserve comment. I have a string of Blog entries coming up – hopefully the start of a rejuvenated Ed Zone – but some of these little ditties don’t warrant exclusive playtime, so I figured I’d run ‘em through shuffle and lay down a few fat beats here. Actually, there’s only one main event that I feel the need to apply comment to.

This past Sunday evening I settled down on the couch alongside Andi to watch the New England Patriots battle Peyton Manning and the Colts in the AFC Championship Game. When the Pats quickly jumped out to a 20 – 3 lead, I thought things were in the bag and we were headed to our 4th Super Bowl appearance in 6 years. As it turns, while the game was a classic battle, this game would be no Snow Bowl. Nope – we’ve got to actually win it for that comparison to be made. So that warm and fuzzy feeling was fleeting as I spied a dark omen moments before half-time. More on that in a moment.

As the clock approached eight-o’clock, we paused the game and turned our attention to Colin and Aria and the normal bedtime routine. With approximately 3 & ½ minutes of game time remaining, I figured we could get the kids in bed, read a couple of stories and return at the start of halftime where we could use the twenty minutes of downtime to get back to the future. Once the kids were snug in bed with visions of the patented Manning face dancing in their heads (you know, that incredulous “How’d a dumb hick like me get here?” look that both Peyton and Dubya have perfected) – we returned to our couch-side vigil and commenced the catch up phase.

Again, the score was 20-3. I decided that I would use the magic of DVR and fast-forward through all the commentary to get to the actual plays. Imagine my surprise when I burned through three minutes of game time in approximately twenty-five seconds as Manning and company marched down the field at will. The Pats defense was sucking wind and we weren’t even at the half. Fortunately they pulled off a deep field stand that resulted in the Colts kicking a field goal – leading us into halftime up 21-6. Not a bad lead but still, there was something about the Pats sudden lifelessness that didn’t bode well – and the Colts were set to begin the 2nd half with the ball.

All this is prelude to the revelation of a traitor in my midst. Flashing forward, with approximately six minutes left to go in the game and the Pats huge lead completely evaporated (the lead having changed hands several times) and both teams knotted up 31-31 (and run-on sentences suddenly back en vogue with a vengeance), Andi looked at me and said:

Andi:   “I think I’m rooting for the Colt’s now.”

Me:     “Wha, wha, WHAT????” 

Andi:   “Well, think of the Red Sox and the Yankees. For years, the Yankees dominated the Red Sox and kept them out of the World Series. We’re kinda’ like the Yankees to the Colts. We’ve already won three times this decade… don’t you think it’s time we share.” 

Me:      “There’s no sharing in football. There are no hugs and kisses. This is Prime Time Smash Mouth Football, lady!!! A team is down 21 – 3, ya’ curb stomp em. A camera man gets in your way – ya’ deck him.”

A week prior I was watching the game in front of a 46” LCD HDTV with my buds and some brews. This week I’m being urged to buy the world a Coke and a smile so we can all just get along.

Of course, I kid my wife Andi. I’m fortunate to be married to a girl who is interested in sitting down and watching the game and for the most part, one who will usually root, root, root for the home team. Maybe I’m just cranky. Maybe it’s just the grim specter of that game’s freakish finale that haunts me.

Maybe I just really want that 46” LCD HDTV.

Comments now closed (8)

  • While I don’t like Manning (in that way you tend not to like people who are talented and aren’t at all humble about it, and also get over-hyped and are willing to shill any product in existence so they’re constantly in your face), I’m actually happy for the people of Indianapolis. I mean, Boston has reveled in four major sports championships since February 2002, while Indianapolis has arguably felt the pain of pre-2004 Red Sox fans more than once in the same time frame. Obviously I would have preferred a Pats win, but, eh, this just doesn’t hurt as much as it might have.

    And let’s face it—the Pats were not playing with a full deck. As my dad said today, he or I could have caught that pass Caldwell dropped when no one was anywhere near him. That’s the difference having a WR like Marvin Harrison (or even Terrell Owens) makes. I know Caldwell did really well this season, but I can’t help but wonder how the game might have gone if we’d had a Harrison or a Chad Johnson. Or, y’know, Dieon Branch.

    I think in the end, the Pats and Colts were two very evenly matched teams, but the player match-ups gave the Colts an edge that even Belichick and Brady’s strategery couldn’t overcome.

  • @ Jason: My own hyperbole embedded in the Blog aside, I agree with you that it is nice to see the people of Indianapolis – and Payton, Tony Dungee, et al enjoy a sip from the glorious fountain we have been priviledged to chug from over the past half-decade or so. Having won 3 in this decade – I didn’t feel the sting like I used to (say ’97 against the Pack). Even the last few Red Sox Playoff busts haven’t hurt that much – as I have the memories of 2004 still replaying themselves in vibrant HD inside mi cabeza.

    Also agree with the Caldwell dis. I have this little rule – a professional football player should never play football the way I do (i.e. balls through the hands, balls off the head, balls off the groin, etc.) Replay only hurts it more. The ball goes straight through his hands both times. Whether he took his eyes off the ball – who knows – but one thing’s for sure, his eyes were bugging out of his head after both miscues.

    In the end, I got to enjoy as many Patriots games as possible in a season (minus one) and I’ll still be watching that one – so I got full mileage out of the football season. And I got some damn fine exciting playoff games to watch. Not a bad haul.

  • Honestly, given the condition of the Pats this season, I think they should be commended for getting as far as they did. How many teams get to the AFC championship game in an honest-to-goodness rebuilding year?

  • I started writing a way-too-long comment, so I think I’ll take a page out of Jason’s book and put it up as a post on my also lagging blog…

    Oh, I will say that 46″ was available for the viewing again this past week, but with the game on a school night, I understand why you’d not want to make that trip. I don’t think that gives Mook an excuse, but as you related to me, he can’t tell any difference between 1080p and 480p, so who cares…

  • raisanhead! where is the pats fan we all knew, the
    fan who was not ashamed to parade in front of drunken fans shouting obscenitys to him. The fan
    who laughed when peppered by peanuts or puked upon
    by drunkards. Now the onetime “legend” is pausing
    a live telecast of the AFC championship, so he can
    put the children to bed(womans work not HEROES).No
    this is not your fathers raisanhead!

  • Raisinhead is a myth. He’s a riddle wrapped in an enigma double-dipped in a mystery and drizzled with chocolate sauce.

    The Raisinhead you knew?

    The Raisinhead the world feared?

    That Raisinhead died when his Uncles stopped supplying him with tix to the games.

  • Just caught up on the Zone, I had given you up for Lost ( meaning a 2 month hiatus!) and assumed you would be back in Feb.!
    2 comments on the game
    …the collective scream you heard in Patriot Nation was 1/2 honest anguish and disbelief…and 1/2 from the men who cut the deal ” Okay,dear, if they win, you can buy the 52″ LCD HDTV for the Super Bowl”

    And maybe this is Peyton’s chance to prove he can’t win the REALLY BIG GAME!