Week 11: The Big O

Last Saturday, I took a train to Philly. I had deliberately taken an early afternoon one so it wouldn’t be crowded. And it paid off. Not only did I get a pair of seats to myself, but I got one of the choice rows at the front of a car, with no seats in front of it, so that I could stretch my legs out for the duration of the trip. As the train lurched into motion, everything was going perfectly, until, with a pneumatic hiss, a middle-aged Asian man in a suit came breathlessly into my car, looking very confused.

He leaned his rollerbag against the wall of the car, looked at me, and kind of grunted at it. I nodded my assent for him to leave it there. He smiled and promptly sat down next to me.

I looked behind me at the sea of empty rows. I did it a second time, with an even more exaggerated turn of my neck, as if rehearsing for “Exorcist: The Musical.” He was staring at his ticket, and my neck was starting to hurt. Slumping back into my seat, I screwed my ear buds in tightly and closed my eyes. The rhythmic rolling of the train would normally have lulled me to sleep, but my companion’s proximity was unnerving. I opened one eye a slit and saw him still staring intensely at his ticket.

He leaned in close to my face and jabbed at his ticket. “This seat?”

I gave up the charade and sat up. “It’s open seating. As long as you have a ticket, you can sit anywhere.”

He looked back at his ticket.

“Which is my seat?”

“Any. Dude, you’re fine.”

He sat pensively, processing this information. I could almost see the gears turning in his brain as he decided I was full of shit.

I pulled a rolled-up Entertainment Weekly out of my bag, and was halfway through the demise of Matt LeBlanc’s career when he started up again.

“Train – go very fast?”

I was starting to feel as though I had stumbled across a really easy crossword puzzle in the back of a magazine. He was making me feel smart. “Yeah. We’ll be in Philadelphia in about two hours.”

Silence.

“What about bus?”

And I’m thinking, dude, were you cryogenically frozen before the industrial age? In what time period is a bus ever faster than a train?

“It’s going to be slower than the train.”

“How long is bus?”

“About three hours.”

He seemed oddly disquieted by the answer. I began to wonder whether he was in a race around the world.

I went back to reading about this year’s Oscar hopefuls, but was secretly hoping he’d throw me another softball. I think some part of me believed there would be a prize at the end. Instead, about twenty minutes into our journey together, he figured out how to walk into the next car, and took his luggage and his leave.

On the plus side, I got my seat back.

Onto the game.

Most bi-curious comment by John Madden: “. . .and when the Chargers put on those powder blue uniforms, oh! That’s it!”

Like Wile E. Coyote, who keeps running without realizing that the cliff has ended, the St. Louis Rams rocketed out of this season with a 4-1 record before remembering, “Hey, we actually suck,” and plummeting straight into the canyon, losing their next four. To salvage their playoff hopes, they needed a fast reversal of fortunes. Unfortunately for them, their next stop was Bank of America Stadium, home of the Tar Heel Terror Squad, America’s Team, your CAROLINA PANTHERS!

And the Big Cat D was sack-tacular! QB Marc Bulger was sacked five times in the first half. Not to be outdone, the Rams defense did its part to get off the field as quickly as possible. Against WR Steve Smith, hands-down the best receiver in all of football, the Rams matched up. . .rookie Tye Hill. In single coverage.

(No team in the past two seasons has been able to stop Steve Smith with single coverage. Not one. The Rams coaching staff, relying largely upon game footage found on YouTube, appears to have missed that.)

69-yd catch by Smith to end the second half! Touchdown, Steve Smith! Panthers up 10-0!

Meanwhile, on the other side of the playsheet, the Panthers re-established the running game. The tandem of DeShaun Foster and DeAngelo “Brown Sugar” Williams left the Rams D DeStroyed, DeBilitated, and DeFeated, rushing for 244 yards!

(My new favorite asinine observation from football commentators, after a dropped pass: “You have to catch that ball.” As though the receiver had mulled his options during the milliseconds prior and made the wrong choice. I would love to see a commentator make the complementary point, for example, when a receiver makes a catch up by two touchdowns with fewer than two minutes to play. “Nice grab, but really no need to catch that one.”)

The Rams were never in it, their twelve possessions resulting in 9 punts, 1 interception, 3 french hens, 1 fumble, and 1 safety. Shut out! Shut out! Panthers blank the Rams, 15-0!

Next week: The Panthers visit a fading Redskins team starting Jason Campbell at QB. Idiotic Boomer Esiason comment on the Cowboys’ loss to the Redskins a few weeks ago, on Parcells’ call to go for two after a first-half TD. “It was a stupid call. Romo’s completion rate on two-point conversions is just a little over 50 percent, you have to go for the field goal.” Umm, actually Boomer, mathematically speaking, if your conversion rate is anything over 50%, it always makes sense to go for two (unless you’re on the final drive of the game, down by 7). Assuming you’re one of those morons who’s always trying to score more points than the other team.

Prediction: Panthers 59, Redskins 17

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRR!