(the following transpired during a single conversation the night of September 10, 2007)
Mom: “I want you to write a letter to the U.S. Open people for me.”
Me: “Okay. About?”
Mom: “You know how much Federer made for winning the U.S. Open? $2.4 million.”
I braced for her usual tirade about how much athletes are paid relative to doctors.
Me: “Okay.”
Mom: “You know what the second person gets? A plate.”
Me: “Are you sure? I thought they got some money.”
Mom: “No money. Just a plate. That’s not fair. How can they give the winner all of these millions and then the number two person a plate? That’s not fair.”
Me: “No, it’s really not—”
Mom: “Because they work just as hard to get there. The other fellow, Novak, he played very well.”
Novak Djokovic, though falling in straight sets, had, in fact, taken the first two to tiebreakers.
Mom: “But he had bad behavior.” Fickle, thy name is woman. “He was so angry, yelling in his language, opening a water bottle so hard that it spilled everywhere. Not like that Federer. Federer is always so cool. So many athletes today yell and scream and celebrate when they win, but Federer is always calm.”
Me: “Okay.”
Mom: “So write them and tell them your mama said they should give the second place people more than just a plate.”
***
Mom: “You know that Oprah raised $3 million for Obama?”
Me: “That’s nothing for her.”
Mom: “They say she’s going to start managing his campaign.”
Me: “I don’t know that she’ll actually manage—”
Mom: “So many millions of people watch Oprah’s show every day—”
Dad: “Nine million.”
Mom: “—I came home early one day and watched it to see what it was about. It was junk.”
Dad: “It’s been on for over twenty years.”
Mom: “I don’t understand why anyone would watch that show.”
Dad: “Jerry Stringer is another one—”
Mom: “That Stringer fellow is also worthless. What does he do that’s so great? He just brings people onto stage, and they yell and kick each other, and the crowd goes ‘Wah wah wah.’ These shows are for uneducated people.”
Me: “Well, yeah. Who else is free at four o’clock in the afternoon?”
***
Dad: “What’s the news in Washington?”
Me: “Well, everyone’s talking about Fred Thompson, and what effect his entry will have on the GOP primaries. Although they’re saying Giuliani is still the front runner.”
Mom: “That Gooliani—”
Dad: “Not ‘Gooliani.’ Giuliani.”
Mom: “I don’t like that Giuliani.”
Me: “Why not?” True, the ex-mayor’s views on abortion and immigration have put him squarely on the outs with many conservative voters.
Mom: “He’s been divorced three times. And he has a rat face. Not like that Matromney.”
Me: “Mitt. Romney. Two words.”
Mom: “Whatever his name is. He’s so handsome, and has such a nice family, and good work background. . .”
Funny, right?
Until you realize that the four percent of voters who decide next year’s election will be using reasoning like this.
On to the game. . .
Still giddy from the gallant dissection of St. Louis last week, buoyed by the relentless optimism that rebuilds beach houses between hurricanes, the Carolina faithful streamed into Bank of America Stadium to celebrate America’s Team, YOUR CAROLINA PANTHERS in a home-opening thrashing of the lowly Houston Texans. Last week’s clockwork decimation had sparked lofty talk of playoff berths; forgotten was Carolina’s streak of three consecutive home opener losses, its anemic ground attack last year, or its overreliance upon Steve Smith. In its place was jargon-heavy pablum about the promise of offensive coordinator Jeff Davidson’s new offense: new schemes to open up lanes for the RBs and new emphasis on spreading the ball to different receivers.
For the first quarter, the Lions of the Queen City were indomitable. QB Jake Delhomme connected with the Nureyev of the Slant Route, WR Steve Smith on a sublime 7-yarder in which Smith batted the ball back to himself before running it into the end zone. Touchdown, Panthers! Minutes later, off of a CB Ken Lucas fumble recovery, Delhomme found. . ., well, Smith again, in the end zone. 14-0, Panthers!
That’s when Bank of America turned into Dresden.
In the words of Coleridge: “and now the Storm Blast came, and he/was tyrannous and strong/he struck with his o’ertaking wings/and chased us south along.” Matt Schaub proceeded to lead Houston to 34 consecutive unanswered points. Schaub to Johnson, Schaub to Johnson, two FGs, a run-in by Green, a kickoff fumble recovery in the end zone – Schaub methodically victimized Carolina’s depleted safety unit all afternoon. Meanwhile, the man he replaced, David Carr, stood characteristically immobile on the Carolina sidelines, the David Carr, who, as QB of the Texans, made Stonehenge look hyperactive.
(As the water boys moved in to take his drink, I was hoping to see a look of panic cross his face, then see him take two steps out of three-step drop, freeze, and collapse to the ground clutching the Gatorade to his chest as they converged over him.)
Nor was Blue Crush aided by a torpid running game that moved with the urgency of incense, or dropped passes by WRs Drew Carter and Keary Colbert. Offensive drives stalled more quickly than the Shinzo Abe regime, until Bank of America surprised me with something I’d never witnessed before:
Booing. Really loud booing.
Booery in the House that Love Built? Unheard of!
But consecutive 3-and-outs tested the limits of southern hospitality. Here’s a clue as to what’s wrong with the Carolina offense -- guess which one of these is true:
In an effort to revive cellar-dwelling ratings for “Prisonbreak,” the show has placed the main character in another prison in another country, from which his brother will try to help him escape.
On his next album, Snoop Dogg will actually rap about. . .something. Besides Snoop Dogg.
The Panthers have found a complementary receiver for Steve Smith.
Sadly (in all respects), the answer is “A.” Rookie WR Dwayne Jarrett was a healthy scratch for a second straight game, another waste of a Panthers draft pick, infuriating those fans who believe that the pick could have been used on any number of players not currently Dwayne Jarrett.
Whatever the fans had been smoking before, by the fourth quarter they looked as if they were drinking the bong water. What few were left; with fifteen minutes still left in the home opener, nearly half of the stadium had emptied. Fear not the storm, but the calm that precedes it, for, deep into the fourth, Delhomme to Smith! Swarmed by nearly half of the Texans defense on what should have been a stop, the pugnacious pygmy spun, shimmied, and shook, breaking five tackles into a 74-yard TD run to bring it to 34-21, with four and a half minutes to go! What élan! What verve! The Panthers are never out, just trailing!
Until Carolina putzed an onside kick, and Houston was able to run out the clock. Then they were out. Houston over Carolina, 34-21.
Next week:
With Joey Harrington leading Georgians to question their commitment to animal rights, an angry and humbled Panthers squad comes to Atlanta seeking redemption.
Prediction: Panthers 35, Falcons 4.
Quotes:
Jenna Fischer (Pam on “The Office”), in the September 2006 Esquire:
“You know what’s really gay? Football. Instead of watching it, just have sex with another dude once a year. Get it all out of your system at once.”
For a random picture of Dan Sepulveda of the Steelers practicing punts, go here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/anantraut/1393997893/
Until next time.
RROWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
Labels: 81, abe, Carolina, coleridge, Delhomme, dogg, fischer, football, jenna, league, national, NFL, Panthers, schaub, shinzo, smith, snoop, steve, texans
