Fourth Mavs Quarter

Alright, there's 2 minutes left in this game and based on my own unprofessional opinion and the texts I am getting from the Mavs fans I know (all two of them that have been texting me), this game is boring. And not very promising. Based on the number of empty seats I am seeing at the AAC, I would guess that the crowd agreed with me as well. Maybe it's the Little Caesar's/warm Diet Rite-esque appeal of a season opener against the Washington Wizards? Maybe it's just rustiness?

I think I picked the wrong game to live-blog. Sorry if this one seems mailed-in. It's about as mailed-in as the Mavs performance tonight.

Third Mavs Quarter

I had to take a phone call which ended up lasting the entire third quarter. I was told by someone that was watching that the only thing that happened was "Dirk hit some shots and a three. Not much."

And I also promised to mention the phrase "man-pris" in the third quarter wrap-up. Go Mavs?

Second Mavs Quarter

I know you guys said that Gooden was going to be no-Gooden but I have to disagree. What was awful was the same thing that has been awful with the Mavs since the continents of the Earth first began to break off and shift and form the current 7 continents. Those stupid, brick layups that never go. Those meh shots. Those "terrified of the paint" shots that dominated the entire first half of the second quarter. Oh Mavs, I missed you so much I even missed that stupid stuff.

Also awesome was watching Barea, for completely inexplicable reasons, fall to his knees mid-dribble in the paint. I still have no idea what happened. Sudden burst of Catholicism? Flashback to pre-basketball rent boy days? I have no idea. But it was awesomely awkward and funny.

The Mavs started finally showing and little hustle and (gasp!) defense in the last three minutes of the quarter only to have their hearts ripped out and showed to them, Temple of Doom-style, in the final second when a steal was stolen from them by Washington and sunk at the buzzer. KALI-MA!

First Quarter of the Opening Night of Mavs Season

(all apologies to the wonderful and potentially batshit crazy Anita Ekberg)

The first quarter ends tied up 21-21. Mavs shooting 38%. I'm already impressed with the applause that Barea got when he was sent in. Mavs were 9-9 on free throws. But more disturbing to me was the endless pimping of Twitters and Facebooks. Bob's Twitter. Mark's Facebook. Bob and Mark's broadcast team's Facebook. Skin's Twitter for his Facebook profile. The Twitter group to discuss the Facebook profile for the messageboard for the chat forum for people who like to IM during the game. Seriously guys, social networking has a stopping point. Like when you see those old ladies who leave the house with tattooed on eyeliner, lipliner, diesel fuel for perfume, 18 different pieces of costume jewelry, five pairs of reader glasses in her hair and a shirt with some sort of jungle cat on it? That's what your social networking overkill is becoming. Alternately, if I become that woman, please just leave me be. I'm probably totally aware of it and enjoying it.

I…Uhhh..These Cowboys…What They Need…To…Do….(sigh)/LET’S GO MAV-ERICKS, LET’S GO!

I have reached critical mass of apathy with the Cowboys. There’s nothing to say about them that anyone hasn’t said already. Wade….should…fired….year and a half ago. Tony Romo…shaky….inconsistent…at best. Five off-sides calls is…gah. Marion Barber and Felix Jones…hurt…always. Roy Williams underperforming and….Jason Witten not getting the kind of….last year…celebrating an overtime win against the winless Kansas…..dog-piling in the end zone…….zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

This is a very odd feeling. Usually, I have poorly-thought-out opinions to share when a team is doing well. And I have even more of them when a team is doing poorly. But Jerry Jones has shown everyone in Dallas that his priorities are, in this order: the new stadium, making money at the new stadium, selling jerseys, selling Party Passes, selling suites, selling Papa John’s pizza, selling Ford trucks, keeping his face taut and perhaps a little bit of football.

So, for the first time in a long while, I have become detached from the whole thing. I’m no fair-weather fan by any means. I will still watch every game. If the Cowboys can, miracle of all miracles, pull a better-than-.500 record out of the charred remains of this season, I will be happy for them. But this team, my team, doesn’t deserve my rapt attention. Before this season started, I made all kinds of plans to attend any home games I could on a Party Pass and maybe even shell out the big bucks for whatever home game fell closest to my birthday. But in a real kick to the junk of Jerry Jones, I’ve come to the decision that this team doesn’t deserve any of my meager paycheck. I relish in the idea of the Cowboys getting so bad that the Terrordome sits half-empty on Sundays, as it’s the only thing that Jerry cares about or would make him take any notice. I’ve never been a jersey-wearing gal but at this point, I’d make my own bootleg Bobby Carpenter jersey to not only take money out of the G-string of Jerry’s mistress but to celebrate the figurehead of mediocrity on this most mediocre of teams.

If the Cowboys are gonna “meh” out on this season, expect me to act in a similar fashion. Other than some quotes from Keith Brooking, Martellus Bennett and Miles Austin, no one on this team gives a flying dog turd about how they’re underperforming this year. In fact, Tony Romo had some quote after the Chiefs game along the lines of, “If we keep getting it done like that, I have a good feeling about our chances this season.” Really? Really? Your chances for what exactly? Normally, a quote like that would infuriate me to the point of drawing dongs and mouth sores and blacked out teeth on a picture of Tony Romo for this blog entry. But I just don’t care anymore. Be happy wallowing in false positivity and I’ll be happy knowing that I can devote my full time and attention to the Mavs by Christmas.

Part 2: Come Back to What You Know/LET’S GO MAV-ERICKS, LET’S GO!

I cannot wait for Mavericks season to start. Seeing Shawn Marion and Dirk score more than 20 each in a preseason game? My tiny basketball heart is fluttering at the mere thought. And lucky for me, that money that I had been thinking about using to make the total ass-beating of a trip to Arlington to see the Cowboys will now be used instead to walk from work to the AAC to attend as many Mavericks home games as I can this season. I can’t remember the last time I was this excited about a Mavs season. And I don’t have much reason to be so excited, other than the addition of Marion and Gooden, the improvement of Barea and the continued work ethic of Dirk.

It’s weird because, even as much as I get frustrated with them (sample You Go Live in Utah blog post from the first-round playoff series with Golden State two years ago: “Fucking Mavs!”), I really really love the Mavs. And I’m not going to deny the fact that part of my Mavs enthusiasm stems from my Rangers boredom and my Cowboys anger. But here’s what I would like to remind everyone:

This summer, when at absolute best, the Rangers were neck and neck with Boston for the wild card…everyone was talking about the Rangers like they were Christopher Reeve doing a gymnastics floor routine at the Olympics. That’s not a diss on the Rangers or their fans. I understand the misery and desperate search for hope in the heart of every Rangers fan. But before too long, the Rangers did what they always do. They fell apart like a Forever XXI dress in a washing machine on the gentle cycle. And no one was too angry. “Hey, they were really on fire there for a little while! They are showing so much improvement! This is what we expected because come 2011, this team is going to be a monster.” All of this about a team whose owner is essentially digging his own gold fillings out with needle-nose pliers outside of a Cash America at this very second.

I really am not picking on the Rangers. I respect their fans. Now again, my Cowboys anger might be clouding my perspective on this right now. But let’s put it this way, if your child was born the last time the Mavs made it to the Finals, you would have a healthy, walking and talking and getting ready for preschool-aged toddler. If your child was born the last time the Cowboys made it to the Super Bowl, you would have a surly, acne-riddled, grunts-as-answers teenager. And if your child was born the last time the Rangers made it to the World Series, you would only have the glint in the traffic cop’s eye before he got an urgent call and let you off with a warning. So why aren’t people more proud of the Mavs? Yes, they took a record books season of 67 wins and fed it into the wood-chipper in the first round to the Golden State Warriors. Yes, the next year they went out in the first round again to the New Orleans Hornets.

But let me re-type that. In the past 4 seasons, they have made it to the FINALS once and to the PLAYOFFS every year. Last year, they made it to the second round of the playoffs. Imagine the size of the Cowboys logo that would be burned with lasers on the surface of the moon if the Cowboys could claim that in the past four years, they have made it to the playoffs each year AND even made it to the Super Bowl once! Try to wrap your head around the kind of frenzy, tears and pandemonium that would radiate from Arlington outwards if the Rangers could make that kind of claim. Is that a sad testament to the low standards we have set for our franchises in town? Quite possibly. Am I still more than happy to watch 82 games on the chance that the team might make it past the first round of the playoffs? ABSOLUTELY.

I want Dallas to remember what we have rooted for since I moved here as a wee baby. The reason we sit in leather-tanning heat in August to watch the Rangers. The reason we are willing to let Jerry Jones rape our wallets and embarrass our city and football legacy. The reason we will get behind a washed-up Dennis Rodman if it just means one more defensive rebound. It’s so we can ultimately have one team make it to the title game and win the big prize and we can bring the big prize home and all take the day off work and go to a parade and allow a modicum of martial law to prevent us from rioting, looting and then burning the entire city down in a fit of sports ecstasy. I’m putting my money on the Mavs and will decorate my riot gear accordingly.

I Could Do (insert anything) Better Than That Guy!

So Mark Cuban made some comments about how he thinks this year’s Mavs team is the best in at least five years. He also says that this team is better than the Finals team of a few years ago. He’s seen more of them than I have so I can’t argue. Yet. On the website on which I read this interview, there were a few supportive and optimistic comments. They talked about the additions of Marion, Gooden and Beaubois being positive things. Then the grand tidal wave of negativity was unleashed. “They will be lucky to win half their games!”* “They should have gotten Kobe when they had the chance!”** “Mark Cuban is a businessman!”***

*We’ll see. But pray tell where you came up with this mathematical formula?
**NO THEY SHOULDN’T HAVE GOTTEN KOBE. And no, Kobe did not want to come to Dallas. He wanted to get out of LA. Big difference.
***Yes, Mark Cuban is a businessman.

Then the comparisons to the Stars, the Rangers and the Cowboys began. Which seems, at best, unfair. At worst, it seems delusional. They are four different teams playing four different sports in four different leagues. I get it that everyone (myself included) is Cowboys angry right now. And some people have only recently made the bumpy and frustrating transition from Rangers angry to Cowboys angry. If I knew any hockey fans, I could tell you whether or not they are angry. When I meet one, I will let you know.

And don’t try to bring the fans into it and question their loyalty or support. I have lived in other cities where a large swath of people didn’t even know that their home team was playing on a given day. I have lived in places where, if you walked into a bar and asked them politely to turn a TV over to a regular season basketball game being played by the local team, they would look at you like you were from Mars. In fact, the average Metroplex sports fan shows an overwhelming amount of support for teams who, collectively, have not given them anything to show for it in a very long time.

Then comes the venom directed at Mark Cuban. I am, apart from a few bumps in the road here and there, a Mark Cuban fan to the point of being an apologist. I don’t hide it. I said I thought it was dumb when he did Dancing With the Stars but I thought it was dumb when Emmitt did it too. Does that negate my love for Emmitt “Seranate the Stadium” Smith in the least? Nope. The lesson that I am learning as the Cowboys season heads toward the iceberg is this: nobody wants to be an armchair QB as much as they want to be the armchair team owner.

Trust me, I get it. I would love to have the keys to Dallas Cowboys Big Ass TV Stadium or the AAC. But I wouldn’t profess to know how to run the team better than the current team owner. It’s fun to call into a sports radio station (I guess) and give the owner of _______ sports franchise some pointers in how to do their jobs better. But the fact that the same argument is being used against Jerry Jones and Mark Cuban is baffling.

People hate Jerry Jones because he refuses to fire a coach who is obviously not suited to do his job. People hate Jerry Jones because he built a new stadium which he cares about more than how his team plays on the field. People hate Jerry Jones because no one can afford to go see a Cowboys game without refinancing their house. People hate Jerry Jones because he did nothing during the draft, nor did he make any worthwhile trades. People hate Jerry Jones because he built the stadium for the Dallas Cowboys in Arlington.

Yet with the same logic, those people hate Mark Cuban, who DID fire a coach who was obviously not suited to do his job. People hate Mark Cuban, who actively tries to make discounted tickets available for every game. People hate Mark Cuban, who lets fans in for free each game simply because they are willing to bypass their shame switch for a few hours and don body paint and ridiculous costumes to support the Mavs. People hate Mark Cuban despite the fact that he brought in Drew Gooden and Shawn Marion. People hate Mark Cuban but probably dig the idea that they can take the DART to the games or walk to a game from their offices in Downtown Dallas.

I will admit that I am not a very big Jerry Jones fan. I didn’t like him firing Landry, even if Jimmy was a great coach in the end. I don’t like the fact that he sees football as pure entertainment like a Vegas show or a Styx concert on a cruise ship. I don’t like the fact that he doesn’t seem to care a bit about the team as long as the brand continues to sell. Though I do grudgingly respect the fact that he makes practically no bones about that.

It just seems to me that being the team owner is a lose-lose proposition. Build the arena inside the city limits in the heart of downtown and they hate you. Build it out in the suburbs and they still hate you. Blow your money like a stripper on a tour of meth labs on big names, trades and drafts and they hate you. Save it up and try to develop what you have and they hate you. Try your hardest to be an everyman, one-of-the-little-people owner who sits amongst the fans, they still hate you. Build yourself a skybox suite and look down on your team like the Dark Lord, they hate you then too.

I enter into every Mavs and Cowboys season with optimism because, well….why else would I want to watch it? To be a masochist? To prove how right I was about how bad my choice in sports teams is? The optimism isn’t paying out huge dividends with the Cowboys so far. But I’m not dousing the season in diesel, lighting a match and getting the engine started on the getaway car just yet. And with only ONE PRESEASON GAME under their belts (and call me crazy here) I’m not quite prepared to predict a 14-car-pileup of a Mavs season. I’m a regular little Pollyanna, I guess.

Tony Romo is a Human Fountain of Suck

I hate blogging after Cowboys losses. Especially when it’s the exact same faults that lead to each loss. I posted a video last week of Tony Romo being affable, funny and downright awesome. The problem was that very little of that had anything to do with him actually being a good quarterback. Hell, Ryan Leaf probably knows more than a few dead baby jokes. But Tony Romo, what is your problem? You seemed to have lost all depth perception on Sunday and were unable to see any open receivers. I am 100% sure that SOMEONE was open. As much as I can rag on Bobby Carpenter being a complete waste of molecules, Roy Williams not being able to hold onto catches and Flozell Adams overcompensating for Carpenter’s lateness with perpetual earliness, it all lies on coaching and Tony Romo as far as I’m concerned. Huzzah to Tashard Choice and Keith Brooking for being rare glimmers of hope on this team.

Now there’s video to prove that Tony Romo MIGHT NOT HAVE EVEN KNOWN WHAT DOWN IT WAS on the final drive in the waning seconds of the game. I’ve heard some people who have gone to games at the new stadium complain that the down and distance is more than a little bit difficult to see, despite a TV screen that is an affront to God himself. However, that doesn’t worry me too much because those people are just there to watch the game. They are not the quarterback who has 4 seconds left in the game on 4th and goal. Between the three fingers he held aloft, the curse word he yelled when he realized that was the last play and the fact that he threw to Sam Hurd who was being covered by Champ Bailey, it seems to be pretty likely that Tony spaced on that one. Then again, even when Tony did try to go ever-so-slightly long to any of his receivers, the ball was a few feet away from any of them. Half of the time, it didn’t even seem as if Romo was actually aiming for any receiver. It was more like he was just lobbing it out to midfield and closing his eyes and hoping there might be a man somewhere in the vicinity.

But it should have never come to that. The calls that Jason Garrett is calling are downright absurd. While I chastised Romo for throwing to Martellus Bennett in the corner of the end zone during the Giants game, I can’t help but wonder if Marty B. had a better chance of catching a last-minute desperation pass than Sam F’ing Hurd. What about Crayton? And imagine the redemption and respect that Roy Williams could have earned by playing through his stinger for one final down and perhaps catching a touchdown.

Our running backs (other than Choice) seem to be made of candy glass. Jason Witten has essentially been relegated to blocking. Demarcus Ware was apparently spayed and/or neutered in the off-season. But all of that seems to be things that can be remedied. However, who will remedy them when the foundation has such visible cracks? Who is going to fear getting their ass handed to them by Wade Phillips? I’m pretty sure Wade lets his Bassett hound just go on the rug for fear of hurting his feelings by correcting or disciplining him. Jason Garrett seems to be living out some Leaving Las Vegas existence now that he’s realized that his once chance to become a head coach might have passed him by. I imagine his playbook being dominated by repeated scrawls of “FML” and NIN lyrics.

Two things dominate my Cowboys mind right now:

1. Watching Brett Favre play last night (particularly on the final Vikings drive of the second quarter), I’m stunned by what a man who could be Tony Romo’s father can do with a 40 year old arm. A lot of Cowboys fans have maintained that Tony Romo’s personal life has caused him too many distractions. As a quick refresher, the distractions and hardships that Romo has had to deal with so far in his professional career: broken pinkie, having a few too many Coronas in Cabo before a playoff game, dating Carrie Underwood, dating Jessica Simpson…uh, well I guess that’s about it. Brett Favre has dealt with alcoholism, pain pill addiction, his wife’s battle with breast cancer, his father’s death, torn tendons in his shoulder and the merciless ridicule of his ever-changing retirement status. I told a friend last night that if Tony Romo had completed ONE of the kind of passes that Favre threw in the second quarter alone, I might not have been angry about losing on Sunday. That’s not completely true. There’s still no good reason to lose that game. But to lose it and to simultaneously realize that Tony Romo has started unraveling in front of our eyes? That hurts.

2. So people say, “That’s Tony Romo, he’s streaky. He’ll come back next week and win and throw for no interceptions and over 300 yards.” Yes, he might do that. Against the KANSAS CITY CHIEFS! What an accomplishment. Winning against another 0-4 team? NOT IMPRESSIVE OR REASSURING. Please don’t get me wrong. I would like to win. Because at this point, 8-8 this year sounds lofty. But even if it’s a blowout, I won’t breathe even the smallest sigh of relief. They’ve got a week off after that and maybe coming back from that can be a fresh start. But seriously folks, this team is not that good.

(sits here staring at my laptop and repeatedly mouthing the word 'wow')

To quote Patton Oswalt...

"Sometimes I thought, 'Yeah, I'm sooooo edgy.' Then this guy comes along and it's like, "Man, I'm nowhere near the edge. This guy has a cottage on the edge that he lives in year-round."


Thanks to Deadspin (Jesus, I should make a macro for that) for bringing to my attention this amazing pile of what-the-what brilliance. I would try to give you my slick and ultrahip witticisms on this but...well, uhhh....

Well, I've got absolutely nothing. I give up. Internet, you win again. You live in three-story Tudor bungalow centrally located on the edge (with great schools!) and I have nothing to add to this.

Me trying to say anything about this would be like Matthew Barney trying to explain the Cremaster Cycle but only being able to use the vocabulary of an autistic 5 year old to do so.

I think I need a lie down. And a hug. And a blankie. And perhaps a warm glass of milk. Can someone put Sesame Street on for me? Thanks.

The Internet is Accused of Ruining Something Else Again

I wish that this blog entry could be a Choose Your Own Adventure blog. If you want to read the serious, thought-provoking (errrr, maybe?) blog entry then turn your monitor upside down. If you want to read my somewhat flippant and possibly uninformed opinions about this topic, keep your monitor right side up and continue.

I get tired of debating “new media” vs. (whatever else isn’t “new media”). The transition from publishing ideas on a sheet of pulp paper product or publishing them on a website is NOT a tectonic shift. If there were journalists who were able to write in-depth pieces that were well-researched and well-written in a print product, there will also be people who can do the same in the new medium. I get that the criticism is “hey, anyone can just start a blog (hi!!!) and they don’t have to be well-informed or even a decent writer and they can put stuff out there and people will take it to be truth!” Yes, that’s true. Just like how (and I’m not making this up), the local newspaper in Barnesville, Georgia ran a piece that I cut out and kept that was written by a woman wearing a cat sweater. The basic premise of her article was that the rising price of gasoline was not a big deal because the Lord is sending us signs that the End of Days was nearing and so we really shouldn’t worry about how much gas costs since we won’t have to buy it much longer. So it’s not like print journalism is, across the board, some prestigious bastion of truth, fact and reason.

But clearly, no one was confusing the Barnesville Herald Gazette with the New York Times. Or if they were, they were stupid enough to deserve to believe that they needed to start getting their Rapture plan in place. And so it is on the internet. As many wing-nutty, poorly-spelled, crazy-ass blogs as there are out there, this should not cause anyone to see any and every online new source as just another decibel in the pointless and deafening white noise of the internet. Recently arrested child kidnapper and confirmed fucking lunatic Phillip Garrido has a website that claims “the Creator has given me the ability to speak in the tongue of angels in order to provide a wake-up call that will in time include the salvation of the entire world.” It’s not as if I have afforded the same credibility to Garrido’s voicesrevealed.com that I do to CNN.com.

Let’s get back to the funny stuff here though. The two things that lead me to writing this missive were the fact that Buzz Bissinger is going to be promoting his new book on Deadspin and a comment I read in regards to the recently-launched Dallas-centric ESPN sports site. The Buzz Bissinger thing is hilarious to me on many, tiramsu-like levels. The most obvious being this clip from Costas Now where he goes on a tirade. The theme of this entire blog entry is neatly summed up by the always-better-at-summing-it-up Will Leitch who observes that “the internet is a meritocracy.” As a side note, the video also makes me laugh because it’s always funny to hear someone so caught up in their own vitriol that they start using phrases like “pisses the shit out of me” or incredulously asking if someone is named …”Balls Deep?!?!”

The second thing from this week that has made this whole topic simmer in the Crock Pot of my mind is this comment, which was left on the Observer’s Sportatorium blog:

Shitty journalists killed journalism says:
I still receive the WSJ daily. Still read the DMN. The issue is profitability. The problem is stupidity.
Journalism/reporting has been capsized by the blog. Blogging is, by and large, ill-informed opinions.
Those who participate in "bloggery" are not Journalists or reporters. They are lazy.
Look at the Huffington Post. All opinions. Same thing on the other side of the political fence.
The same slipshod writing exists under the sports mantle.
It's all shit.

Ending with “It’s all shit” makes me think of a rubbery-faced Walter Matthau typing this out (on the comment forum of a blog, which is extremely confusing to me) with one hand as he shakes his other hand in a fist at the no-good kids who keep stepping on his lawn.

I know I risk pulling some ageist, “get with the times, old man!” card out by saying all of this. And I really do think that print is still the preferred medium for in-depth pieces, photography and non-breaking news stories. But I think that when it comes to instantaneous updates on breaking news and a place for discussion and less-than-reverant (read: funny, clever or slightly entertaining) writing, the internet has print whipped, hands down.

Let’s boil this down to second grader talk. I read because I like to learn stuff and be informed or entertained or both simultaneously, even. Meaning, if I can go to a website that covers, say, sports and know that there will be an article about how dumb Michael Crabtree is acting right now and I know that there will also be witty responses to that article which will cause me to chuckle, guffaw or even Laugh Out Loud, I’m probably going to visit that website a lot. If that website also offers up-to-the-minute breaking sports news, even better. Now, say that website has also recently done things like break the story of Josh Hamilton’s Redi-Whip-Gate or Sean Salisbury’s apparent ungluing following his departure from ESPN radio, beating print, radio and televised media to the story? Well, that sounds like a one-stop shop for me.

So that leads me to wonder why Buzz and Shitty Journalists Killed Journalism, henceforth known as SJKJ, are so upset about blogs. SJKJ says that the Huffington Post is just pure opinion and that’s why the internet is bad. He says that there’s just as many conservative sites that are just as opinion-plagued. So I guess that when the Dallas Morning News runs which candidate they will endorse in their print edition, that’s like them being all internet-y with their dirty, unwanted opinions?

Let me make this clear, I’m not writing this because I think I am a sports journalist because I write about the Cowboys or anything. I feel okay about claiming to be a blogger because, as I type this, I see that “blogspot” is in the URL of this site. So I think that means I am on Team Blogger, right? But I don’t hate non-laptop-based media. I respect the hell out of the journalists and radio guys and all the people who went to school and, as they would say after long pulls off a Camel Filter and a swig of Glenlivet, “paid their dues.” Guys who didn’t just hit “publish” on their self-congratulating rants about the Mavericks prospects this year and sat back and smiled smugly. But I also don’t think that’s what real (read: not me) sports bloggers do.

I started this blog because stats, frankly, give me tiredhead after a few minutes. I can read the box score of a game and see the mathematics of what occurred during the assigned allotments of time in the given sport. And that leaves me kind of cold. Do I care about Romo’s accuracy rating per game? Yes, absolutely. Do I care that, with Marion Barber injured and Felix Jones leaving the game in the third quarter, the Cowboys were still able to have a second 200+ yard game in a row, a feat that hasn’t been achieved since the days of Tony Dorsett? Yes, I care hard. But I don’t listen to sports talk radio shows where caller after caller phones in to break down the statistics on the offensive line’s effectiveness in protecting the quarterback in the pocket when the temperature on the field is anywhere between 62 and 75 degrees. I love football but I guess I don’t love it enough to care about that stuff.

What I do care about? Figuring out what kind of vehicle could be approved for use on commercial highways and residential streets AND be able to transport Leonard Davis without using two lanes or getting a police escort. I care about animated GIFs of Wade Phillips shaking his Cracker Barrel-loving body in a euphoric dance of triumph over something as mundane as the other team missing a field goal in the first quarter. I have a sense of humor, I like football and I have multiple electronic devices which afford me the ability to obtain almost round-the-clock updates on the tragedies, triumphs and paternity lawsuits of professional sports. I’m sorry if some people feel like this has cheapened an entire profession and lowered it to the level of hookers who give mouthlove in abandoned outhouses. But I’m a-ok with being entertained and informed by someone who may or may not be named Balls Deep. I guess it’s just a sign of the times. Maybe the cat sweater lady was right and the Rapture really is coming soon. I just hope the Cowboys can win one goddamn playoff game before it does.