Growling Wall

Panthers Lock Up NFC South

2009-07-22T19:54:00.005-05:00

We signed the Duke! Duke Nuke'em! The Duke of Earl! The Duke of Hazard!

from SI.com:

"The Carolina Panthers have signed fifth-round pick Duke Robinson.

The guard from Oklahoma inked a four-year deal Wednesday that includes a signing bonus of about $172,000. He's expected to provide needed depth on the offensive line after Carolina released Jeremy Bridges and lost Geoff Hangartner and Frank Omiyale in free agency.

Robinson is the fourth draft pick to come to terms. The Panthers must still sign second-rounders Everette Brown and Sherrod Martin and third-round choice Corvey Irvin.

Carolina opens training camp Aug. 2."

S Sean Taylor Dead at 24

2007-11-27T22:26:00.000-05:00

Safety Sean Taylor of the Washington Redskins died at approximately 3:30 am this morning of gunshot wounds.

Week 11: No Pocket for Old Men

2007-11-24T17:04:00.000-05:00

Last week, I made two predictions. Panthers 16, Packers 3 was the first. Yale 34, Harvard 20 was the second.

Let’s start with The Game. I thought Yale, as it had all (perfect) season, would ride phenom RB Mike McLeod to victory. In breaking down the game, I’d even said:

“Wide receivers: Who cares?! We have Mike McLeod!”

Apparently, someone at Harvard saw it the same way. The Cantabs stacked the box against the run, forcing Yale to rely on its passing game. QB Matt Polhemus was brilliant, connecting with a variety of receivers, regrettably many of them Harvard defenders. Harvard crushed Yale, 37-6.

My friend Katie emailed me about it later:

“Btw, did you cry when Harvard spanked Yale?”

My response:

“FIRST OF ALL, the game was much closer than the 37-0 score in the third would make it appear. Second of all, you shut up.”

Onto the game. . .

Although the Panthers had Vinny Testaverde steering its high-powered offense, the team was without WR Steve Smith (officially out with a shin injury; unofficially out researching workplace violence best practices). It was like being given Buckingham Palace without any electricity.

Green Bay scored its first touchdown off of a trick play. . .a Carolina trick play. “Leg of God” K John Kasay lined up for a fake FG, then punted it to obtain better field position. Green Bay ran it back 94 yards for a touchdown. Why didn’t it work? Maybe it was because the Packers had seen Carolina do it the previous week against Tennessee. Or maybe because Carolina only had ten men on the field. (Speaking of which, kudos to H Jason Baker. Holders have three responsibilities: call the ready for the snap, hold the ball, and make sure you have 11 men on the field. 2 out of 3 ain’t bad. Enjoy the CFL.)

The Packers went up 28-3 in the third. But talk about Testacular fortitude! Vinny led the Panthers right back into it, connecting with WR Drew Carter, Packers CB Charles Woodson, and TE Christian Fauria to put up two more scores. Ultimately, Packers squeaked by, 31-17.

In light of these disturbing results, I decided to go back and look at some of the other predictions I’ve made this year. Among them:

“If the Yankees should have blown the bank on anyone before the trade deadline, it’s Eric Gagne.”

“Liberals who claim that military autocrats cannot coexist with a fair and democratic society need look no further than Pakistani President Pervez Musharraf.”

“You can’t say enough about the brilliance of the major banks in pooling mortgage-backed securities in a way that virtually eliminates the risk for the average investor! With Moody’s and S&P as watchdogs, the system’s built-in safeguards are foolproof!”

“Once Congress and the American public become aware of the fact that we torture people in our custody, there will be riots in the streets. Performers who may be on tour at the time, such as Miley Cyrus, will be lucky to generate any sort of interest."

“David Chase has had nine years to think about an ending for The Sopranos, so you know it’s going to be phenomenal!”

“Every network that passed on the opportunity to run a surefire hit like ‘Cavemen’ will be kicking themselves come sweeps week.”

“If we want to bring our troops out of Iraq soon, we need a third party like moveon.org to begin a public education campaign.”

Random quote:

“Late in the third quarter, Testaverde threw a 2-yd pass to TE Christian Fauria, who launched into an enthusiastic end-zone celebration with his team trailing by three scores.”

- AP coverage of the Packers-Panthers game

Next week: America’s Team meets a struggling Saints team. Winner stays in the race with the Bucs for a playoff spot, loser starts looking ahead to next season.

Prediction: Pan – Actually. Just to be safe, New Orleans 24, Carolina 17.

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Week 10: Eyes on the Prize

2007-11-24T16:53:00.000-05:00

In thumbing his nose at the Constitution and the Supreme Court and attacking the lawyers defending them, the president cited as justification Abraham Lincoln's (unlawful) suspension of habeas corpus during the Civil War. I am speaking of course about Pervez Musharraf, the president of Pakistan who recently incurred universal condemnation (well, but for a few key allies) for his suspension of democratic institutions and the imposition of martial law in Pakistan.

Lawyers across Pakistan had taken to the streets, enduring beatings and incarceration for demanding the reinstatement of the Constitution and the Supreme Court. In a show of support for our Pakistani colleagues, the ABA organized a protest march for lawyers in D.C. from 11:30 to 12:00 last Wednesday. "Support" apparently means exactly 0.5 billable hours.

The march was scheduled to start at 11:30, and by the time I got off of the Metro, I was afraid I'd missed the start. But when I arrived at the James Madison Building of the Library of Congress, the lawyers were still congregating about, preening for the reporters hemming them in on all sides.

'How's the protest rally going?' emailed my colleague Ferdose.

'Terribly,' I wrote back. 'Perhaps I shouldn't have worn my Musharraf '08 shirt.'

We were an unending sea of black and charcoal, a sign of visual support for our similarly-attired Pakistani colleagues. By the time I was able to pick out Amanda and a few of my other Guantanamo colleagues, the speeches had begun.

". . .We, the lawyers of America, stand shoulder to shoulder with the brave lawyers and citizens of Pakistan as you strive to preserve the rule of law in your nation. . ."

"Excuse me," came a whisper at my shoulder. The source was an ABA rep holding a clipboard. "Would you like to sign this petition in support of the Pakistani lawyers?"

"Absolutely," I said, taking the clipboard from her hand.

". . .An independent judicial system and a just constitution are cornerstones of all lawful societies. The arrests of Pakistani's Supreme Court justices, and of thousand of lawyers, judges, and civil leaders, are a profound breach of the rule of law. . ."

I crossed my 't's with a flourish. "Absolutely," I said again, as I handed the clipboard back to her.

"Thanks," she said brightly. "And here's a pin to wear during the march to show your support." I took the green ribbon and began twirling it between my thumb and forefinger.

". . .We call upon President Pervez Musharraf to free those lawyers and civil leaders who have been wrongly jailed. . ."

"Aren't you going to pin it on?" whispered Amanda.

I shook my head, holding a lapel out for her inspection. "The fabric's Italian. . ."

D.C. being a small city, and there only being so much room at the Capitol, other protest groups wandered in and out of ours. A diminutive Chinese lady circumambulated the crowd, trying to distribute flyers about the Falun Gong. More intriguingly, several individuals dressed in blue velvet whale costumes passed by on the sidewalk, waved to us, and kept walking. I would love to tell you that they were protesting the endangerment of whales, but I honestly didn't see a sign.

After the speeches, it was time for the march. The plan was for us to march vigorously from the Madison Building all the way to the Supreme Court. For those of you not familiar with D.C. geography, that's approximately 1 city block. Some might say, doesn't the Supreme Court of the United States have zero influence on this issue, and wouldn't it make more sense to march on the Pakistani embassy? To which I would politely respond, yes, but the Pakistani embassy isn't on the Blue and Orange lines, now is it?

No one had thought to come up with any slogans to sing out, so the "march" ended up being a bunch of people in dark suits walking in orderly fashion down the street. We looked like lobbyists popping out for a spot of lunch. It was probably one of the most orderly protests the nearby cops had ever seen, what with all of the participants fully cognizant of the extent of their First Amendment rights.

At least another protest group, the Pink Ladies, had joined ours and was engaging curious passers-by. "The brave lawyers of Pakistan are risking life and limb to defend the principles of law and justice. They have been kicked, yelled at, beaten, and arrested. . ."

"Did you bring any sunscreen?" I whispered to Amanda.

"No."

". . .We're showing our support for the courageous men and women of Pakistan, who, led by their legal community, remind citizens of all nations that justice and the rule of law and both precious and fragile. . ."

"My neck itches," I complained.

("Sorry," Amanda told me later, as we took the Metro to Chinatown. "I don't even carry sunglasses in this season." "Season?" I repeated. "What 'season' are we in exactly? Solar eclipse season?")

Collectively, we ground to a stop in front of the Supreme Court. We were supposed to walk around it once, but since we’d gotten off to a late start, most people just walked back to the Metro. Amanda and I walked up the steps of the Supreme Court, stood at the top and pumped our fists in the air in defiance. This had the sole effect of startling some clerks who were returning from lunch.

Then, in a final show of support to the fearless spirit of our Muslim brethren, we sat down for some sliders and pepperoni pizza.

Onto the game. . .

Steve Smith Homicide Watch: Charlotte Observer columnist Tom Sorensen

After the Panthers' 20-13 loss to Atlanta last weekend, the snarky newspaper columnist asked Smith (5-for-61) whether this was the most frustrated he's been as a Panther. "Who said I was frustrated?" asked Smith. Sorensen said that he sensed as much.

Smith's response: "You're not going to get me to say that I'm unhappy here and all that stuff. . . .I mean, you didn't play sports so you wouldn't understand anyway, Sorensen."

How did the Panthers perform on Sunday? A strong showing by the Big Cat D. After Atlanta's opening touchdown drive, the game devolved into a field goal battle, with Carolina's lone touchdown the result of a defensive fumble recovery. Another year, another trip to the IR for LB Dan Morgan, which amounts to $750K in cap space keeping the bench warm. However his replacement, rookie Jon Beason, was phenomenal, notching 11 tackles, and helping to hold the game at 13-all with less than two minutes to play.

But the offense was anemic, even behind the indefatigable arm of Vinny Testaverde. The Panthers were ultimately undone on special teams. With shades of K John Kasay's infamous short punt at the end of Super Bowl XXXVIII, a 23-yard punt return allowed the Falcons to start their final drive at the 50-yard line with less than two minutes to play. Broken tackles by safeties Chris Harris and Quinton Teal allowed TE Alge Crumpler into the end zone for the game-deciding score.

I could dwell on the Panthers' woes on offense, their quarterback carousel, the inability of any second receiver to take the pressure off of Steve Smith, and a running game about as committed as Fred Thompson's presidential bid.

I could dwell on that, but I want to instead turn to a certain other team that the country is talking about, on the verge of making history by going undefeated behind one of the most impressive offenses seen in decades. I'm talking of course about the phenomenal Yale football team, currently 9-0, 6-0 Ivy, setting up a showdown with Harvard this weekend (7-2, 6-0) between two teams that are undefeated intraconference, to determine the '07 Ivy League crown!

How does this Yale team stack up to that other undefeated team?

Quarterback: QB Tom Brady dates Gisele Bundchen. QB Matt Polhemus '08 dates the "Gisele Bundchen" of the Molecular Biophysics & Biochemistry department.

Coach: Jack Siedlecki dresses in clothes from Barrie Ltd. Booters. Bill Belichik dresses like a cornerman.

RB: Lawrence Maroney is averaging 4.7 yards per carry and Sammy Morris is out for the season. Mike McLeod '09 has already set Yale records for rushing yards in a game, touchdowns in a career, consecutive games scoring touchdowns (besting Calvin Hill '69's record), points in a career, touchdowns in a season, carries in a season, and consecutive 100-yard rushing games (besting Buffalo Bills coach Dick Jauron '73's record).

Wide receivers: Who cares?! We have Mike McLeod!

Prediction: Yale 34, Harvard 20

Next week, the Panthers travel to Green Bay to take on the 8-1 Packers and the overhyped Brett Favre. A blowout, most expect, a showcase for the Pack. Honestly, do you really expect the Pack to go 15-1? Do you? Or do you think this will be the week that the Panthers expose the fraudulence on the tundra, and leave the cheese-heads looking like Chris Hansen just walked into their kitchen?

Prediction: Panthers 16, Packers 3

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Week 9: Carolina Gangsters

2007-11-24T16:37:00.000-05:00

One of the tax partners, Karl, was in my office on Friday giving me advice on speakers. Asking an audiophile like Karl advice on sound systems is like asking my advice on cameras -- if you're just looking for something basic, our relative expertise is wasted.

Having talked me into considering a pair of Martin Logans, his work in my office was done. On his way out, he extolled in passing the virtues of building a system piecemeal with very nice components, like the "ten thousand dollar CD player" owned by fellow tax partner and audiophile Carol.

"Wait, what?"

Karl stopped halfway through my doorway.

"A ten thousand dollar CD player?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes. Ten thousand dollars."

"C'mon."

"No, really. It's an SACD."

"Okay," I said, "I can understand there's a difference between a nice CD player and, say, a Discman. But what does a ten thousand dollar CD player do that a five hundred dollar Harmon Karmon 5-disc changer doesn't?"

"By the same token, what does my Porsche do that your Mercedes doesn't?"

"Compensate?"

Onto the game. . .

This week, we introduce a new feature: the Steve Smith Homicide Watch. This feature will keep track of all the warning signs up to and including the moment the Panthers wide receiver murders one of his teammates.

Consider:

With QB Jake Delhomme as the starter for the first two games, Smith went 7-for-118 and 8-for-153 (but yelled at Delhomme during the Houston loss for throwing to aWR Keary Colbert instead of him, resulting in a 3-and-out (dropped pass)). During the Arizona game, in which QB Vinny Testaverde played a complete game, Smith went 10-for-136.

Enter QB David Carr. During the Atlanta game, in which Carr came in for an injured Delhomme, Smith went 1-for-10; Tampa Bay, 5-for-32 (and was seen screaming into the phone at the offensive coaches in the press box); New Orleans, 4-for-47; Indy, and 2-for-18 (and was seen screaming at David Carr on the sidelines during the fourth quarter).

A few days after the Indy loss, two reporters were talking to second-round bust WR Dwayne "The Phantom" Jarrett in the locker room, when Smith came up behind them. "Instead of talking to the media, why don't you go watch some game film?" said Smith, in the presence of the reporters. Jarrett smiled and tried to laugh it off. "Seriously," said Smith, before walking away.

By Week 12, expect him to go Rae Carruth on the next fantasy owner that comes up to him and tells him how much he's killing his team.

How was last week's performance against the Titans? Closer than it looked (20-7), but still dreadful. The Panthers managed fewer than 80 yards on the ground on 21 carries. David Carr, displaying all of the athleticism of Terry Schiavo was sacked seven times, threw an interception, and lost a fumble. It was so bad that Titans DT Albert Haynesworth found Carr's performance praiseworthy. "You've got to credit David Carr too because he held the ball," he said after the game. "That allowed me to get there a little bit." The 320-pound Haynesworth kept busting through the Growling Wall at will like some kind of Bizarro Kool-Aid Man. My favorite part, though, was that throughout all of this, Carr kept checking the play codes on his wristband. What kind of plays do you suppose are on there? "Drop back, hold ball, wait." "Move to hole in O-line, look increasingly terrified, make peace with God.")

And Smith was held to 3-for-15 (screaming as he walked off the field about not getting enough throws).

One of the few bright spots for YOUR CAROLINA PANTHERS was that earlier this week, Testaverde was practicing with the first team offense. Good news for Carolina fans. Good news for people within sighting distance of Steve Smith.

Random quote:

"We knew Carr would feel the rush, because he's always worried about us. We knew he might be kind of extra scared or worried about our defense."

- Titans DT Albert Haynesworth, giving credit where credit is due

Next week: the Panthers, still just one game out of the division lead (Tampa Bay) host intra-conference rival Atlanta. The Falcons are 2-6, but the Panthers are winless at home.

You know those commercials they'll run for movies, the ones that consist of fake "testimonials" from actors posing as moviegoers, talking about how much they loved the movie and how everyone should see it? These are hilarious on a number of levels. First, they NEVER run these ads for a movie that's doing well. So, multiple executives have bought into the idea that if a movie's doing poorly, I will see watch commercial and think, "You know, that Asian guy in that ethnicity- and gender-balanced group looks a lot like me. I think I will see 'Because I Said So.'"

With the Panthers still winless at home and struggling on both sides of the ball, Jerry Richardson may need to borrow this strategy to fill seats. Here's how the commercial might sound:

"We saw David Carr, and my son ran over to him to get his picture taken, and Carr immediately took a knee!"

"It was so awesome, I got to shake Dan Morgan's hand! But I think now he might need Tommy John surgery."

"We grabbed Julius Peppers' hat as a prank, and he tried to put pressure on us from the left side, but got single-blocked by the Gatorade cooler."

"I couldn't believe how easy it was to get Dwayne Jarrett's autograph! There was no line or nuthin'!"

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Week 8: Vinny in Real Life

2007-11-03T17:55:00.000-05:00

I had a physical two Fridays ago. It was with a new doctor. I change my doctor every year. Not that I ever have a problem with the doctors I get, I can just never remember whom I went to the previous time. So I use Mapquest to figure out the closest one and designate myself a new primary care provider.

I really should write things down more.

In some sense, though, I have to believe that for a doctor who does this day in and day out, giving me a physical must be kind of a treat. Like the special ed teacher who gets an honor student for tutoring.

“Do you have any allergies?” I was sitting on that loud crinkling paper like the last brownie on the tray as the new doc (“Brickie”) took my patient history. I was wearing some sort of tunic made out of hamburger wrappers.

“No.”

“Fatigue, shortness of breath?”

“Nope.”

“Depression, anxiety?”

“No.”

This was going swimmingly, I thought. I wished more women asked these types of questions on dates. So that it wasn't just me talking about it.

“Do you smoke?”

“Never.”

“Drink?”

“Socially.”

“Control your portion size?”

“Lady, I weigh a buck forty-nine!”

“Sorry,” she said, looking up. “It’s on the form.”

I don’t know the last time any of you had a checkup, but what’s amusing these days is how sensitive doctors are to a patient’s sense of privacy. I was lying back on the table as she checked my breathing. “Now I’m going to remove the gown from your arm,” she said reassuringly as she slid off the armhole, careful not to expose any more of my shoulder than necessary. No doubt these precautions were the fallout from the good ol’ days when doctors used to violently sodomize their patients. (Perhaps I should have told her I wore half as much most mornings anyway.)

Then she asked my permission to perform a testicular exam.

I’ll spare the female readership the details of what makes it so comical, but you can surmise for yourself by imagining if she took the same approach to cooking me dinner.

“I’m about to take your wine glass in my hand, is that okay?”

“Fine.”

“What I’m doing now is checking to see if it’s empty. Now, with my other hand, I’m going to lightly grip the wine bottle.”

“Sure, whatever.” I look straight ahead, strenuously avoiding any sort of eye contact.

“I’m going to now move the wine bottle closer to the glass and – ”

“Yes. Glass. Wine. Refill. Understood.”

Protracted silence until she’s finished with the wine glass.

“Now, in a second, I’m going to have you turn around so that I can examine your napkin holder. . .”

“Okay,” she said. She had finished, and was at the sink, washing her hands.

Okay what? “That’s it?” I asked. Immediately, I regretted it. I sounded like a perv.

“Is there anything else?” she asked.

“Well, one thing.” ‘1 in 5 people have herpes’ screamed the STD poster, ‘Flu season is approaching!’ screamed the wellness poster, ‘Can you spot the hidden picture?’ screamed the 2004 Highlights magazine. Doctors have a curious approach to decorating. Concerned antagonism. “You know, I’ve been thinking of going onto either Propecia or Rogaine.”

The paper towel stopped halfway along her hand, and she looked at me skeptically, the way one examines a piece of badly-dented furniture after being quoted an obscene price at a flea market.

“Are you noticing any hair loss?”

“Not really.”

She didn’t say anything. The beautiful ones are always dumb, she thought to herself.

“My understanding,” I said quickly, to fill in the silence, “is that these products are good for preventing hair loss, and that it’s best to start taking them before you actually start losing your hair.” I didn’t include that the sole source of this information was ‘The Big Idea with Donny Deutsch.’ I thought that might undercut my scientific credibility.

She wrote me a prescription with great reluctance. So I thought I should open it up to general discussion. Does anyone have an opinion about whether and when to take hair loss products?

Your answers will, of course, be weighted according to your level of actual hair loss. And/or insecurity.

Onto the game. . .

70,000 plus were rocking Bank of America last Sunday, some, institutional investors, bemoaning BoA’s exposure to mortgage-backed securities, but most there for the second chapter in The Greatest Football Story Ever Told, the resurrection of Vinny Testaverde! One of the most dominant teams in NFL history, America’s Team, YOUR CAROLINA PANTHERS were playing host to Peyton Manning and the Colts in what was widely regarded as a Super Bowl preview.

Tapped by Coach Fox to start ahead of backup QB David Carr, the King of Kings led the Panthers on the greatest opening drive in Carolina history! 18 plays spanning 11 minutes! WWVTD? Seven run plays, eleven pass plays, and the Lamb of Jerry Richardson put the Panthers up 7-0!

On the other side of the ball, Peyton Manning’s offense proved about as substantive as a FEMA press conference. The first half was a tale of domination, printed on parchment of pain. The Panthers controlled the ball for more than 22 minutes of the first half. The Colts, stumbling worse than Hilary Clinton on immigration issues, managed just 3 points in their first five drives. Manning failed to convert a third down in the first half, and completed fewer than 50 percent of his passes all game.

Having had his way with the Colts, what did Coach Fox do in the second half? There was protracted debate last week as to whether the Pats ran up the score on the Redskins. Personally, I don’t think that just because a team’s offense and defense are hopelessly ineffective that the opposing coach is obligated to throw out his entire pass playbook, signal to the other team to stack 8 men in the box, play Marty-ball for more than a quarter and give the lesser team more chances to get back in the game.

But that’s why John Fox is an NFL coach and I’m just a handsome Internet journalist and bounty hunter. Why tip more of your playbook and risk your key players to a team you may end up defeating in the Super Bowl? Fox wisely pulled Testaverde early in the third (right around the time that he reaggravated an Achilles injury for our sins). Fox then had to decide between going with the stalagmitic David Carr or undrafted rookie Matt Moore, which is akin to being trapped on a desert island with a choice of Joel Osteen or Tony Little as your sole companion.

But consider Fox’s genius. Looking ahead to this weekend’s matchup with the Patriots, Fox knew that sending a demoralized Colts team to next week’s matchup would almost certainly result in a New England victory. On the other hand, sending in a team feeling good about themselves might result in a squad he knew how to beat facing the Panthers in the Super Bowl. Thanks to Fox’s brilliance, the Colts were handed a meaningless victory against the Panthers’ B team in garbage time, final score 31-7.

Random quote

Just when Favrelove couldn’t become any more insipid, along comes booth-chemistry-murdering Emmitt Smith with this insightful commentary after the Packers’ MNF overtime win over the Broncos:

“That’s why Brett Favre (dramatically pausing on each word, ESPN-commentator-style) is the_best_quarterback_in_football_today. Sure, Brady and Manning may have all of the statistics and numbers. . .”

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Week 7: Bye

2007-11-03T17:54:00.000-05:00

Week 6: We Own the Night

2007-10-20T15:48:00.000-05:00

Onto the game. . .

Google = Skynet. I’ve been saying that for years. As soon as you hear about Google getting into robotics, start stocking up on canned goods.

But no complicated search strings were needed to find the solution to YOUR CAROLINA PANTHERS’ most dire problem last week. QB Jake Delhomme – out for the season with a bad elbow. Backup QB David Carr – out with a sore back. Panthers don’t make excuses; they make excsolutions.

Enter Vinny Testaverde.

Testaveritas: the year Vinny was born (1963), the 5-digit zip code was implemented by the Post Office (Jul. 1), Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. gave his “I Have a Dream” speech (Aug. 28), CBS Evening News lengthened the standard 15-minute nightly news broadcast to an unprecedented half hour (Sep. 02), and the term “Beatlemania” was coined by the British press (Oct. 14).

Rejecting an offer from Arizona last Monday, signing with Carolina on Tuesday, and appearing in Charlotte for a physical on Wednesday, Testaverde literally ran onto the field in the middle of a play and began taking snaps with the offense. By Sunday, he’d only had three full practices with Carolina, yet still managed to learn more of the offensive playbook than Dwayne “The Phantom” Jarrett has all season.

But if this was going to be the Testaverde show, it’s soundtrack would be the ululations of a beaten desert people. A smothering Big Cat D set the tone in Arizona’s first three possessions, generating two sacks and two recovered fumbles and sending Kurt Warner out of the game with an injury.

Meanwhile, like a modern-day Dorian Gray, Vinny Testaverde continued to swim upstream against the seas of time, his elixir of immortality engineering drive after drive deep into Arizona territory. Capping them off with field goals from the Last of the Original Panthers, K John Kasay (combined age = 80), the Panthers led 9-7 in the third!

Testaveritas: 1989: Vinny wins Heisman. 1989: rookie receiver Dwayne Jarrett is born. (First volitional act after being born? He sucked.)

But playing in front of their home crowd, the Cardinals kept it close. I don't know which is more annoying: Boston sports fans who assume everyone is rooting for the Red Sox during the playoffs because the second-highest payroll in the league is still the perpetual "underdog," or Boston sports fans who assume that the world is rooting against the Patriots because their coach was legitimately caught illegally filming the opposition's playcalling. Certainly none are as inspiring or easy on the eyes as the women of Maricopa County.

Neil Rackers puts them ahead 10-9, followed by a rare miss from Mr. Automatic! John Kasay, who for years has been one of the scariest kickers in the league (scary because of his accuracy, not scary like Cowboys K Nick Folk, who looks like he tortures small animals), goes long on the go-ahead FG, and the Cardinals look to close it out!

Testaveritas: Prior to this year, Vinny had attempted 6,529 passes in the NFL. Number of passes attempted in history of Carolina franchise: 6,379.

But Testarrific wasn’t done. Exemplifying the Japanese philosophy of jinba
ittai (horse and rider as one), the gridiron’s Ponce de Leon threw a rainbow ahead of WR Steve Smith streaking up the sideline past single coverage. Steve Smith’s whistle tips go whoo! whoo! Touchdown, Panthers! Carolina up 15-10 (missed 2-pt conv.)!

CB Ken Lucas intercepted Rattay again, leading to another Kasay FG to put the Panthers up 18-10. Coach Fox finally replaced DeShaun Foster’s bloodhound-like ability to find the closest defenders with the more versatile outside runner DeAngelo Williams, who ran 10-for-121 and a game-closing TD. Jinba Ittai!

Testaverdict: Panthers win! And a win by the Bucs puts these heated rivals tied at 4-2 atop the NFC South!

Random quotes:

“I’m still meeting guys. I’ll probably take a media guide next week, look over our roster and try to figure out who everyone is.”

- Vinny Testaverde, on not knowing the names of most of his teammates

“Hey, where’s Joe?”

- Jimmy Kimmel on the set of “Monday Night Football.” Altogether now, one, two three: screw you, Theismann! Screw you!

Next week: Bye. Week following: Peyton Manning and the Indianapolis Colts. Who will start, Carr or Testaverde?

Look, I’m no Paul Zimmerman. I’m not even Emmitt Smith, whose commentary style can fall disconcertingly between Dusty Rhodes and a gay man. But all I hear is that guys like Testaverde and Garcia are temporary fixes that need to be replaced as quickly as possible, because the commentators are locked into pre-scripted positions that these guys are too old. But if you have an O-line that can buy them a few extra seconds, wouldn’t you prefer to put the ball in the hands of a more accurate thrower than a backup whose release can be out-hustled by condensation dripping off a Popsicle?

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Week 5: The Heartbreak Kid

2007-10-20T15:45:00.000-05:00

The kitchen at work is something of a conversational deathtrap. Small talk
invariably revolves around what food you’re eating, what food you just ate,
what food you plan to eat later, or what kind of food could have possibly
created that smell, and which of our colleagues is most likely the culprit.

I was standing in the kitchen, heating up some lunch, when a paralegal whose
name I actually know (“Loughran,” or “Lough” (pronounced “lock”) for short)
walked in with a bag from Moe’s. Moe’s is to Chipotle what Pepe Lopez is to
Jose Cuervo.

“Hey Lough!” I said. By using his name, I hoped to convey the camaraderie
between attorneys and staff. “What’s for lunch?”

We both looked down at the word “Moe’s” in big letters on his bag before he
looked back up at me. “Moe’s.”

“Ah,” I said wisely. And then, to make it even more profound, nodded my
head slightly.

“You?”

“Oh, just something I made in the crockpot on Sunday.” I saw where this
conversation was going, and felt the stirrings of uneasiness I get when new
people start asking me where I went to school.

“Oh yeah? What?”

“Beef bourguignon.” I didn’t like the way it sounded by itself. I felt
compelled to back away from the bourgeois element. “It’s just beef slowly
simmered in red wine.” And then, stumbling forward, “You should try it
sometime.” I had gone from exchanging recipes to issuing colonial edicts.

Lough, gathering together plastic utensils and napkins, looked over at me.
“Isn’t pretty much everything you make in a crockpot slowly simmered in
something else?”

***

I’d had conversational misfires with him before. I ran into him in the
hallway the week before Christmas. This was shortly after the attorneys had
been notified that we would receive bonuses in excess of fifty thousand
dollars.

“So, Lough,” I said. I weighed slugging him in the arm with fraternal
affection but changed my mind halfway, dodging his arm entirely and bringing
my fist back towards my other shoulder in a bizarrely threatening manner.

He stared, waiting for me to go on. Meanwhile, I looked as though I had
just drawn an invisible cape around my shoulders.

“Heard you guys got some gift certificates?” I couldn’t remember whether
gift certificates were considered tacky, and ended up saying the words too
delicately, as though asking whether he’d received the food stamps I’d left
on his chair.

He nodded. “Two hundred bucks on Amazon.”

I smiled and nodded. He stared at me. I’m not sure what more I was
expecting. Eventually, I realized no heartfelt thanks were forthcoming.

There’s a pressing need in this city to end all casual interactions with a
pithy conversational coda, a humorous yet uplifting observation or
suggestion that allows both parties to bring their light-hearted interaction
to a satisfying close and move on with their lives. We were stuck, standing
in each other’s way in the hallway, waiting for one.

Finally one came to me. “Well,” I said brightly, “at least it’s better than
nothing.”

“Is it really?” he asked.

Onto the game. . .

Like FEMA relief, the Saints came to New Orleans loaded with resources,
bringing the beleaguered city and its residents hope and the promise of
revitalization. Instead, as time wore on, they failed to live up to
expectations, profoundly disappointing Orleaners with their failure to make
any noticeable progress

At 0-4, they were looking for redemption. Standing in their way: YOUR
CAROLINA PANTHERS!

The Big Cat D demoralized the Saints. Rookie sensation LB Jon Beason,
starting in place of the ubiquitously-injured Dan Morgan, squashed Reggie
Bush’s inside lanes. The bruising 0-0 tie was broken in the first quarter
when a pass from Brees was intercepted by CB Richard Marshall! In a game
that favors youth, some things only get better with age, and “Leg of God” K
John Kasay put the Panthers up by a field goal. 3-0, Panthers!

The Saints came back to tie it up 3-3 when QB David Carr nearly had his back
broken during a sack. “It was by far the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my
life,” Carr would say later. “Every bone in my back popped all the way up
to my neck. . . .I didn’t know, honestly, if I’d ever play again.” Carr was
taken off the field in a cart. They had the technology. They could fix
him. But with Delhomme still injured, his replacement would be. . .Matt
Moore!

Who the hell is Matt Moore?

Well, according to analyst Ron Jaworski during this year’s draft, Matt Moore
was the “best quarterback prospect after JaMarcus Russell, Brady Quinn, and
Trent Edwards.” (Which is a little like being “the most popular character
on ‘CSI’” after the pudgy-faced dude, the hot older chick, the
mannish-yet-weirdly-sexy younger chick, and the black dude.)

His first pass: a 43-yarder to WR Keary Colbert! Matt Moore is the second
coming of Johnny Unitas! The South will rise again! His second pass was
nearly intercepted. Still, 1-2 ain’t bad. Another Kasay field goal, 6-3
Panthers!

The critics have been saying, where is Julius Peppers? Know this: no one
has a greater physical _or_ psychological impact on the game. His mere
presence on the defensive line negated a Saints touchdown when he terrified
an offensive lineman out of position before the snap. The Saints’ 10:20
minute, 19-play, 67-yard drive was limited to a tying Olindo Mare field goal
before the half.

And now, we take a short break to play, "Where In the World is Dwayne 'The
Phantom' Jarrett?" The second-round draft choice/bust was once again
inactive.

a. As a USC alum, experiencing enormous setbacks learning i. to read and
ii. pay his bills without improper donations from would-be agents. Ooh. .
.too soon?
b. Trying to prevent Jack and Kate from leaving the island
c. Searching for the 'real robber' who made off with OJ's paraphernalia in
Vegas
d. Carpooling with Joe Paterno

In the third quarter, the Saints pulled ahead by a TD. But ask not whom
Julius Peppers defends; he defends thee! Peppers blocks an Olindo Mare
field goal, and the ball is recovered by Richard Marshall and taken to the
Panther 15! We are Richard Marshall! Carr to WR Steve Smith, touchdown,
tied ballgame with 10:11 to play!

In the final ten minutes, the two teams would intercept one another on the
same drive, and Olindo Mare would miss a 54-yd field goal. With three
seconds to play, at the New Orleans 35, with the game on the line, there’s
only one person you can rely upon. The Last of the Original Panthers. FG
by Kasay is good! Panthers win, and tie with the Bucs for the NFC South
crown!

But grave news for America’s Team. Delhomme opted for season-ending elbow
surgery this week, and Carr’s back has kept him from practicing with the
team, leaving Moore the only healthy quarterback on the Carolina squad.

Who could they pick up as backup? Well, there’s Jake Plummer (no chance),
Tim Rattay (doesn’t every team have to sign Tim Rattay at some point? isn’
t it part of getting a new stadium deal?), Marquis Tuiasosopo (because all
other things being equal, always trade for the person who name could most
easily be a hilarious Pixar villain), Aaron Brooks (currently working as
mall security), Tim Couch (purely as a prank call to later post on
panthers.com), Ken Dorsey (will play for a sandwich), or Andrew Walter (a
bad decision that some team will inevitably talk itself into, like throwback
jerseys).

Instead, we got. . .Vinny Testaverde! At 43 years young! And, with Carr
unable to practice, he may very well start against Kurt Warner in Arizona
this weekend. Some things only get better with age.

Reader mail:

From Kelly H., from somewhere in the 80s:

“The Liesl story is classic - secretly, I think you just didn't want to make
conversation with with a beer company rep.

‘So, uh, love the keg can.’
‘Thanks - I'll never figure out how they miniaturize all those kegs. It
must be really hard. I like string.’”

Random quote:

From a WashPost review of The Pug (short for The Pugilist), a boxing-themed
bar on Capitol Hill:

“[Owner Tony] Tomelden had planned on a jukebox, but after years of
listening to tipsy congressional staffers play '80s rock and hair metal at
Capitol Lounge, he decided he'd rather set up playlists on his laptop.
‘Hearing U2 once a week is cool,’ he explains. ‘Hearing them nine times a
night is not. And never hearing Jon Bon Jovi is awesome.’”

This weekend: Vinny Testaverdede. Kurt Warner. NFL 2007!

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

www.growlingwall.blogspot.com

Week 4: The Game Plan

2007-10-07T19:00:00.000-05:00

In Which Our Hero Becomes A Sexual Predator, An Inept Lothario, A Crime
Victim, And Ultimately Finds Redemption

With a race looming on Sunday, I skipped my usual Saturday morning long run
in favor of a swim at a nearby pool followed by a short run. I don’t
normally go to the Washington & Lee High School pool on the weekends, and,
upon trying it for the first time, realized the wisdom of my usual routine.
Six lanes had been trimmed to three, half having been co-opted for some sort
of water-robics class for twenty-odd yam-shaped women. Meanwhile, the
bleachers teemed with solo parents clutching the wrist of a proximal
toddler, all of whom presumably played some part in the class to follow.

After a couple thousand meters, I changed, went for a short run, and came
back to shower. In the interim, the children’s swimming class had started
and finished, and I returned to a locker room overrun with parents
struggling to towel and clothe their children, who, having been
disenfranchised of the right to stay dry, were exercising varying degrees of
nonviolent resistance.

My shower having ended, I stood in the locker room, drying myself off. I
was daydreaming, I guess, lost in my own thoughts, and I was standing there,
in a good-morning,-world! stance, sawing the towel across my back when my
animal radar picked up the blip of something unnaturally close to my knee.
I looked down, frozen in mid-wipe. Not more than a foot away was a
(fully-clothed) little girl. She was staring up at me.

All of me.

First reaction: panic. Visions of Chris Hansen leaping out of the practice
pool in a frogman suit flashed in my head.
But I calmly reexamined the situation. I was toweling off in front of the
showers in the men’s locker room. How was I in the wrong?

(It reminds me of a stand-up routine I saw a while ago. The local news did
a segment about a man who was filling up at a gas station late at night when
he was killed during a random drive-by shooting. ‘They said he was in the
‘wrong place at the wrong time,’” recalled the comedian. Crowd titters.
“‘Wrong place’? Wrong place? He was at a gas station! Where the hell else
are you supposed to put gas in your car?”)

I felt bad for her dad, though. She may have lost any interest in ever
dating a white dude after that.

* * *

Later that afternoon I went to the Clarendon Day festival. See attached
pic. What street fair is complete without the popular
Crawl-Through-A-Mexican’s-Crotch ride?

* * *

That night, I attended a Congressional Black Caucus reception at the French
Embassy. As an African-American Congressman, it’s important for me to
attend these things.

Naturally, I gravitated to the lone blonde in the room. (In that group, she
stood out more than vitiligo.) She was a sales rep for Heineken, which had
apparently sponsored some CBC events earlier that day. Her name was Liesl.

“L-I-E-S-L ‘Liesl’?” It was loud, and I had to shout to be heard over the
crowd.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Yes! No one can ever spell my name, how did
you know that?”

For no good reason, I felt the need to lie, to chalk it all up to some crazy
happenstance. How do you explain to someone you just met that you can spell
almost anything?

“Oh,” I said, waving my hand with what I hoped was nonchalance as I laughed
nervously. “I’ve seen ‘Sound of Music’ six times.”

Let’s examine the ways I could have gone with that answer.

A. I’ve actually lived in Holland.
B. I could have pretended to know someone with that name.
C. I could have attributed it to a lucky guess.

Instead I went with “Sound of Music”? Forget the fact that I don’t even
_like_ “Sound of Music” (I can’t sit through more than half an hour before I
get bored with the singing). I took advantage of an opening by professing a
love for musicals?

I may as well have told her I used to skate competitively.

* * *

Sunday morning, I ran the Capitol Classic 20-miler. For distances that
long, I usually eat a caffeine-laden gel right before the start and carry a
second one in my shorts for the mid-way point. Just as I was taking the gel
out of my gear bag, I saw the course map taped to a wall. I set my bag down
and set the gel on the ground next to it, so that I wouldn’t forget to take
it with me. After studying the course map for a few minutes, I went back to
get my bag.

The gel was nowhere to be found.

What is the world coming to when people start stealing from attractive
people?

* * *

Sunday after the race, I had just brought my gear up to my apartment when I
realized I’d left my phone in my car. Returning to the elevator banks, I
press the ‘Down’ button and wait for the next car. As the door slides open,
I step in and immediately turn back around. I was daydreaming, I guess,
lost in my own thoughts, when from behind me:

“Oh my God, you are an insane runner!”

I turn around, and find a very attractive young woman staring at me with
what looks like recognition.

“Uh. . .”

“I’m sorry, I meant that as a compliment. How much do you run every day?”

Actually, I hadn’t taken it badly at all. I was just standing there trying
to avoid another “Sound of Music” incident. Although at this point, my
inability to engage in ordinary human interaction was in danger of being
mistaken for autism.

By floor six, I find out she’s training for her first marathon. At floor
five, we specify that it’s the Richmond Marathon, and no I don’t know much
about that one. Upon reaching floor four, I discover that seeing me coming
back from my runs as she’s leaving for work in the morning inspires her.

The elevator stops at the third floor, and I step out. The doors of
opportunity begin to rumble closed. I give her my apartment number and tell
her to slip a note under my door. She tells me her name is Katie.

There are other places I could live besides Arlington, but I can’t imagine
why.

* * *

Well, that’s about all I have, so you know what this means.
“So long/Farewell/Auf wiederschen goodbye. . .”

Onto the game. . .

Few teams can boast the blood rivalry of the Panthers-Bucs. Defensive juggernauts, they play a game of field goals and traffic in violence. In 2004, the Panthers lost DE Kavika Pittman for the season to a torn ACL and MCL, suffered after a devious chop-block from Buc WR Keenan McCardell. The Panthers reciprocated in 2006 by pureeing Chris Simms’ spleen, ending his season, possibly his career, nearly his life.

Fresh off of breaking three of Rams QB Marc Bulger’s ribs on opening day, the most feared defensive unit in NFL history, the Big Cat D of YOUR CAROLINA PANTHERS was game-ready. Were the Bucs? Heading into Week 4, the game between 2-1 division foes would yield control of the volatile NFC South division, and featured a showdown between the number 5 quarterback in the league (Jeff Garcia) vs. the number 3 (Jake Delhomme).

(“Yes,” said my Tampa friend Eric, “but one of these quarterbacks isn’t 35 years old.” That’s okay, I told him. Gay men are in notoriously good shape.)

The Bucs gave it their best effort, but the noble savagery of the Big Cat D, awesome to behold, was nothing short of devastating. “O brave new world, that has such people in it!” marveled Aldous Huxley’s Savage. Barely up 7-0, the Bucs were midway through the first quarter, running on the legs of “Cadillac” Williams. “A devil, a born devil, on whose nature/nurture never can stick. . .” said Prospero of Caliban, yet equally well it applied to one of the Horsemen of God’s Country, S Chris Harris, who delivered the crushing hit on Williams that tore his patellar tendon and ended his season.

“But I don’t want comfort,” said the Savage. “I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.”

“In fact,” said Mustapha Mond, “you’re claiming the right to be unhappy.”

“All right then,” said the Savage defiantly, “I’m claiming the right to be unhappy.”

In the second half, the field was strewn again with the body of crushed corsairs. Buccaneer Luke Petitgout was taken out of the game with a season-ending cracked knee, courtesy of DT Kris Jenkins.

At halftime, the Bucs were clinging to a tenuous 17-0 lead, and Coach John Fox’s masterful strategy was playing itself out brilliantly. It is not enough to beat your opponent. To see their spirit crushed – that is victory. Fox is one of those rare visionaries who doesn’t just play game-to-game; he was playing for the season. And the long-term game plan to ensure division dominance involved wholesale genocide of the Bucs’ offense.

Yet where was the Carolina offense?

Were they still in the locker room, watching replays of Brett Favre’s record-breaking TD throw? At this point, I’m convinced that nothing will jar sportswriters from this season’s script that Brett Favre is “playing like a kid again.” He could pull out a gun out and shoot a defensive lineman, and Chris Berman would still lead with: “And look at Favre, 38 years young, still murdering people like a kid in a Columbine schoolyard!” (And then do that ‘WHOO-OP!’ sound effect.) Seriously, what exactly are we celebrating anyway? The fact that a 38-year-old finally shows up to work on time, not hung over, doesn’t fall asleep in meetings, pays attention to his bosses and makes intelligent decisions in a job he gets paid millions for in order to better his team’s chances of success? Honestly, this makes him some sort of hero?

Were they debating the old Chris Simms haircut (which made him look like prison candy) versus the new Chris Simms haircut (which makes him look like the creepy monk from “Da Vinci Code”)?

Were they predicting how thoroughly the Giants defense would stop the Eagles later that night? (I thought it would have been funny to have a 24-hour camera on Donovan McNabb all this week, showing him going about his daily business, like going to the ATM or picking up his dry cleaning, and then showing him get sacked every couple of hours by Osi Umenyiora. The only thing funnier would have been Osi standing up, looking into the camera, and saying, “I’m not nearly this hard on white quarterbacks!”)

None of the above. Sadly, the General, Jake Delhomme, was out with an injured elbow, and the offense had been turned over to the disquietingly androgynous David Carr. Carr, whose halting decision-making frequently results in Pompeii-like tableaus prior to being sacked, never got in sync with the Carolina receivers, despite the fact that there was a Dwayne Jarrett sighting! Yes, first round draft pick/bust WR Dwayne Jarrett made a few cameo plays! The man who was supposed to take double coverage off of WR Steve Smith was playing off of what I heard referred to as a “limited playbook,” which is code language for the fact that he’s only been able to learn a few of his plays. The 2007 Dwayne Jarrett “limited playbook” is like the games they have in the Special Ed classroom: the Chutes & Ladders with only a “Start” and “Finish” square; the “Clue” where all the cards say “Colonel Mustard did it.”; the “Taboo” where all the answers are “Daaaah” and the buzzer is edible.

After halftime, the Growling Wall grew even stingier, permitting only a single field goal for the entire second half. And in the final minutes of the fourth quarter, the Appalachian Express came alive! The Bucs had pulled their defensive starters, and no one runs a hurry-up offense against second-stringers like David Carr! Touchdown, Panthers! Panthers lose, 20-7.

Next week:

With Delhomme sidelined for another week, along with the always bizarrely-injured LB Dan Morgan (“slight” Achilles tear), Il Davide di Carolina leads the Panthers against the winless New Orleans Saints.

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

www.growlingwall.blogspot.com

Week 3: The Carr Ultimatum

2007-10-07T18:42:00.000-05:00

OPEN LETTER TO BLACK PEOPLE FROM THE GOP

Re: The Tavis Smiley Incident

Look, it’s unfair to say that Republicans don’t care about black people.
That’s just not true. Why, once every four Novembers, we care about you all
a lot. That’s when you’ll see us at a barbeque, or clapping off-rhythm to a
gospel choir. Would we do that if we didn’t care?

When Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, and tens of thousands of black
people were left without homes, President Bush sent his top guy down there
to help. Mike Brown was not only a personal friend of Bush’s campaign
manager, but he also had a ton of experience as an administrative assistant
for the city manager of Edmond, Oklahoma. Okay, so, maybe he wasn’t the
most qualified person we could have put in charge of disaster relief. But
the Republican administration committed $85 billion to Katrina relief. $85
billion! Now that’s what I call ‘reparations’! Okay, so we’ve spent more
than $450 billion on the Iraq War, despite the fact that there has never
been a proven connection between Saddam Hussein and 9/11, and al Qaida was
never in Iraq until we invaded, and the plans for invading Iraq were already
in place as of September 17, 2001. Sometimes you have to make the world
incredibly unsafe in order to make it _more_ safe. Look, we’re getting away
from the point here.

Let’s try something different here, multiple choice. When Republican
politicians speak to a black audience, they will quote which of the
following African-American luminaries:

A. Zora Neale Hurston
B. W.E.B. DuBois
C. Booker T. Washington
D. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Everyone said “D”? Wait, wait, bad example. Of course we’re familiar with
black culture. Like this Jena 6 stuff. Believe me, we understand what you’
re going through right now, and no one is more outraged than we are. We
just can’t talk about the Jena 6 publicly because, well, it kind of
undercuts our arguments against affirmative action to admit that there’s
still racism. Plus, no one really understands what the issue is – Fox News
isn’t covering it. But we care, really we do; we have all of their albums.

Let’s try the multiple choice thing again. Which of the following is most
likely to be in the “Hip Hop” section of a Republican’s iPod?
A. Talib Kweli
B. DJ Kool Herc
C. RZA
D. Will Smith

You said “D” again? What do you people want?! We gave you Condi and Colin,
for crying out loud! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, that came out wrong. Look, this
is obviously going nowhere. My point is that, yes we get excited about
sending brown people to Guantanamo Bay for the remainder of their natural
lives without ever charging them with a crime, and yes we get excited
building walls in Texas to keep out dark-skinned people willing to do the
jobs none of us are willing to do, but that doesn’t mean that once every
four years we won’t welcome you into our house with open arms.

Just put this towel down before you sit on our couch. Your hair and all.

Onto the game. . .

It’s only the third week, where bad teams still look good and vice versa, yet the storylines that writers will return to all season ad nauseam are already being written:

- Brett Favre is playing like a kid again
- Vince Young just wins games
- YOUR CAROLINA PANTHERS are. . .enigmatic

Last Sunday, the League’s Jekyll-and-Hyde squadron traveled to Fulton County, Georgia, to meet NFC South rival Atlanta Falcons in their home opener.

You have to feel for Bobby Petrino. After leading Louisville to victory in this year’s Orange Bowl, he headed to the NFL expecting the keys to the league’s best rushing quarterback and playoff-worthy roster depth. Instead, they trade away Matt Schaub and he finds himself on opening day with Joey Harrington, who brings all the excitement of a spreadsheet. And last week, they signed for wingy Jacksonville reject Byron Leftwich. You would think the team was forcing itself into some kind of penance.

Because of the Michael Vick situation.

There’s justifiable outrage, and then there’s the thrill of watching someone powerful go down, and there was definitely blood in the water over the dogfighting scandal. Condemning dogfighting became the “it” indignation, replacing the chic harangues against Don Imus. Righteous fury over mistreatment of dogs is a surefire way to score cheap political points even as you stand there in your leather shoes, eating veal, wearing hygiene products that were animal-tested.

Without adding credibility to the paranoia of Donovan McNabb, I do believe that there are certain indifferent, unapologetic black athletes like your Michael Vicks, your Terrell Owens, your Barry Bonds, that the public wants to see go down. Where Jason Carter might have been accorded the benefit of the doubt in a similar scandal, the public was already tying the noose for Vick. Yet for all the outrage, to see how it all ends, look no further than the Bertuzzi-Moore fight in the NHL back in ‘04 (where Moore left the ice with deep gashes in his face and a broken neck after being jumped from behind and driven into the ice by Bertuzzi), where even the banshees on The View were calling for a ban on all hockey fights in the days that followed. But after Bertuzzi’s suspension ended, nary a canary peeped when he returned to the league. You see, it’s difficult to stay outraged on one topic these days. There are too many channels.

But I do derive one small piece of satisfaction out of this.

Screw you, Theisman! Screw you!

Ever since the Monday night Panthers-Falcons game when Theisman kept gushing about Vick even while the Carolina offense was on the field, I’ve hated him. Not to mention the fact that his “analysis” on MNF consisted of zero percent football analysis, 50 percent moronic superlatives such as “all-time quality guys in the league” “possibly one of the most passionate players in the history of football in all of football” and 50 percent insipid declarations where the implied alternative is clearly not a conscious option (“The offense has to come on and score some points on this drive.” “The defense really needs to step it up and make a stop here.” “[Quarterback] has to start connecting with his receivers.”)

Miraculously, during the offseason, his bosses realized it too. And now he’s gone.

The game was tight early. The Big Cat D, Where NFL Offenses Go To Rebuild Their Self-Esteem, allowed the Atlanta offense to stay in the game, tackling with all the sincerity of a compliment during happy hour.

The Falcons led 17-10 in the third, largely because WR Steve Smith, had been kept in check by DeAngelo Hall. But even when he’s not scoring, the Nureyev of the Slant Route can still win ball games for you! Jawing with the overconfident Hall, Smith cannily egged him into committing 3 penalties for 67 yards on the same drive, resulting in a 5-yd TD pass to TE Jeff King! Carolina using its tight ends?! What a team! What a game! 17 all!

Then, a scare for the Tar Heel Terror Squad. QB Jake Delhomme went down with an elbow injury. In comes the strangely androgynous David Carr. Had you told me earlier this spring that I’d be watching a football game between Joey Harrington and David Carr, I’d have asked when I started watching CFL.

Carr looks like he’d be more at home at a Scissor Sisters concert than a football field. When he entered, he was wearing bright white gloves; it wasn’t clear whether he was going to quarterback to do a magic trick. (Reports the Charlotte Observer: David Carr has different-colored gloves to match the different Carolina jerseys! Which tells me two things: i. David Carr is no Ken Stabler, and ii. the Observer must be some kind of football writers’ graveyard. In next week’s Observer: where Rex Grossman gets his eyebrows waxed!)

But Carr was more than serviceable, connecting on 3-for-4 and driving the Cats to the very doorstep of the end zone. With the stoic heroism of Wallace at Stirling, the engine of Carolina’s new zone rushing scheme, RB DeShaun Foster, drives in the go-ahead score! Panthers take the lead!

Final score: 27-17. Panthers win! Panthers win!

Reader mail:

From Jess T., in NYC:

“Roberto and his friend were in the US visiting during the last
presidential election and I remember just being so disappointed and
dumbfounded that Kerry lost, I just couldn't believe it.

Roberto: I know why he lost.
Me: Why?
Roberto: His face. He's too ugly to be president. People won't vote for
an ugly person to be president.

Seriously maybe all the political analysts should listen to these
explanations.....maybe it is that simple.”

Random quote:

“I don’t recognize that name. Who? General Jameson?”

-Sen. Arlen Specter (R-Pa.) last Friday, in response to a reporter’s question about a Capitol tour one of his aides was giving porn star Jenna Jameson and meatwall UFC champ Tito Ortiz

Next week: Playing for control(!) of the AFC South, the Panthers host bitter rivals Tampa Bay. Will Delhomme be ready to play, or will it be the Dame Edna Carr? Will the always bizarrely-injured LB Dan Morgan (who left the Falcons game with a bruised shoulder, tight hamstring, and heel pain. From the same play.) suit up? Whatever happens on Sunday, it’ll be drinking Cheerwine, wearing NASCAR gear, and have really bad tan lines. Carolina-Tampa Bay.

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

www.growlingwall.blogspot.com

Falcons Sign QB Leftwich Prior to Panthers Game

2007-09-21T08:10:00.001-05:00

Falcons sign former Jacksonville QB Byron Leftwich to a 2-year deal prior to Panthers matchup:

http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=3025903

And here's the official press release from the Falcons:

http://www.atlantafalcons.com/News/Articles/2007/09/11-20/Falcons_sign_quarterback_Byron_Leftwich.aspx

Week 2: The Brave One

2007-09-18T23:05:00.000-05:00

(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!

Week 1: Shoot 'Em Up

2007-09-11T08:39:00.000-05:00

Excerpts of the new Osama bin Laden tape were released by ABC News last Friday. Among other things, he:

- takes to task the economic crisis precipitated by mortgage-backed securities

- faults the Democrats for failing to follow through on their mandate to end the Iraq War

- blames corporations for accelerating global warming

- urges a swift and immediate draw down of U.S. troops in Iraq

Already, he has a more comprehensive platform than Fred Thompson. He ends his tape by offering America two options: either a fight to the death, or the payment of a zakaat (an alternative tax permitted by the Koran to subjugated peoples who choose not to convert) of about 2.5 percent. That’s considerably better than Mike Huckabee’s proposed 23 percent national sales tax. Lower taxes, greater oversight of the rating agencies that deepened the current economic crisis, a reduced international presence – bin Laden is repositioning himself as a libertarian. He’s weighed in on every major national issue short of the AL wild card race (“The hell-bound Israelite Steinbrenner should not expect to lock up a playoff berth by overspending on flaky pitching and trading Sheffield!”). He should start a website to answer readers’ questions. osamabinbloggin.

The release of the tape is made more controversial by the timing. bin Laden is releasing the tape on September 11^th. The symbolism is obvious. As everyone knows, September 11th the same day that Kanye West, 50 Cent, and Kenny Chesney are releasing new albums. Some say he risks splitting his audience. But the video is already in heavy rotation on Tora Bora Request Live.

On to the game. . .

Let’s go back to the end of last season. When we left off, Jake Delhomme was still the starting quarterback, having consistently posted a QB rating in the mid-80s over the past three years. Amidst all of the Super Bowl hype heading into last season, I had said that we were just one Delhomme injury away from Chris Weinke at quarterback. Sure enough, an uneven Jake, hounded by calls for the bench from the Charlotte press, went down with an injury, and Weinke took over. Carolina fans actually began talking themselves into this being an improvement. 1-15 Weinke? Are you kidding me?! He stunk. He stunk so bad that Coach Fox started taking him out of certain possessions and direct snapping to RB DeShaun Foster. And DeShaun’s not a passing RB like Kordell Stewart was; Weinke was so bad that Fox was telling the other team, Listen, I am going to take the ball, I am going to hand the ball to DeShaun, and DeShaun is going to run the ball, and that’s about as complicated as this play is going to get. In fact, part of me remains convinced that Jake, looking a little too healthy with a little too obvious of a smirk on his face, sat out one game longer than he needed to, as if to say to the fans, “This is what you wanted, remember – a QB who can’t connect with a bottle of Propecia much less the most explosive receiver in the entire NFL.”

So, we fixed the problem by picking up David Carr in the offseason. David Carr, the most sacked QB in NFL, who spent more time on his back in Houston than Anna Nicole Smith. This was supposed to spark some sort of competition between the two? That’s like making Paris Lindsay’s rehab counselor. Remember, we could have taken Brady Quinn (first round pick: WR Dwayne Jarrett (USC)). We’ll see this season whether we made the right choice. But here’s a troubling sign: Dwayne Jarrett was # 5 on the depth chart for Sunday. Five. That puts him behind the kick return guy, the Panthers’ other first-round WR draft bust, Keary Colbert, and the guy who runs out with the gay Panthers flag before kickoff. The #5 guy on the depth chart has to pay for his own parking at games.

Offensive line: for all of the criticism heaped on Jake, part of his problem was that his offensive line kept collapsing around him. The organization was supposed to remedy that during the offseason, but it certainly didn’t look that much better during the preseason. Honestly, did anyone see Game 3? British sailors in Iranian waters showed stiffer resistance.

Defense: we have no safeties. Literally, there is nothing plugging the middle of the field for us. Mike Minter retired, Shaun Williams and Colin Branch were released, and Nate Salley was injured. Anyone who throws deep on the Panthers will score.

After finishing the preseason 1-3, the big question heading into the first game of the season was:

Will we go 10-6? Or 6-10?

Ever since Kurt Warner and his man-alien advisor left town in disgrace, St. Louians have vested all of their national title delusions in Marc Bulger the way some cling too desperately to the first nice guy after an abusive relationship. Armed with Tory Holt, Isaac Bruce, Drew Bennett, and 2,000+ yard RB Steven Jackson, the Rams offense was expected to be one of the most formidable in the NFC.

But there are three things you never invite into your house. Vampires, Chris Benoit carrying a stack of Bibles. . .and YOUR CAROLINA PANTHERS!

The Growling Wall returned in force on the sturdy legs of the indestructible LB “Steely” Dan Morgan! Oft-concussed, never nonplussed, Morgan anchored a Big Cat D that held the over-hyped Jackson to just 58 yards rushing. (Jackson, you may recall, chose not to play in any preseason games, opting instead to suck when it counted.)

The fastest wide receivers in the league were supposed to run all over Carolina, yet the Horsemen of God’s Country, Carolina’s safety unit, were spectacular, one of those inexplicable things like how the Patriots play at Gillette Stadium yet are never clean-shaven. Harris and Cooper forced a fumble apiece, and Bulger was never allowed a completion longer than 18 yards!

As for the offense, RBs Foster and DeAngelo Williams racked up a total of 186 yards rushing, albeit against last year’s 31^st-ranked rush defense. But lost among the boos raining lustily through Edward James Stadium in the fourth was the second coming of Joe Montana: the General, Jake Delhomme, finished with a 125.7 QB rating! By way of comparison, Peyton Manning rang up a 125.4 in the Colts’ much ballyhooed thrashing of New Orleans in the season opener, and Chris Weinke rang up $3.12 in change for a customer at Bojangle’s.

Coach John Fox racked up his 50^th win as Panthers coach, and the Tar Heel Terror Squad climbed to their rightful place atop the NFC South, with Atlanta, New Orleans, and Tampa tied at 0-1.

Next week – Carolina goes up against “Super” Mario and a revitalized Houston Texans franchise looking quite capable ever since they picked up Matt Schaub to replace the worthless – uh, never mind.

Quotes:

“You can’t give a testimony without going through a test.” -- Steven Jackson

“You know, people who talk don’t really have much to talk about.” -- Steve Smith

P.S. Anyone who thinks I’m letting the Falcons and Joe Theismann off the hook for the Michael Vick situation, just wait until Week 3. I’ve been waiting all summer for this. . .

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

www.growlingwall.blogspot.com

Weeks 16-17: Dreamboys

2007-01-08T00:57:00.000-05:00

My family really liked the Christmas gifts I got them. At least, I think they did. I flew in the day before, on Christmas Eve. We stayed up late that night, catching up, eating holiday sweets, and debating the selflessness of local newscasters “bringing Christmas” to physically defective people (“Disabled,” I gently corrected my mother. “I think the term is physically _disabled_.” “Whatever you call them.”).

Christmas morning, I had my father, brother, and mother sit while I brought out their Christmas gifts. They were the reason behind the mysterious second suitcase I had brought with me, which I now lugged down the stairs.

Ever the showman, I had designed three rounds of gifts for everybody, to build the excitement. After I had handed out the last gifts and stood there beaming, it slowly dawned on me that I was the only person handing out gifts this year. (I even had a microsecond of doubt, wondering whether I’d gotten my holidays confused, and was supposed to have brought a costume to go beg our neighbors for candy later.)

It didn’t really bother me. I had treated myself to a Sony camcorder a few days earlier, and felt like I had everything I wanted anyway. I was just happy they were enjoying their gifts. At least I thought they were.

“How was your day?” we asked my mother after she came home from the office.

She began pulling containers out of the refrigerator, disgustedly. “All anyone can talk about is Christmas.” Fake high pitched voice. “‘Did you have a nice Christmas? How was your Christmas?’ ‘What did you get for Christmas?’”

“What did you tell them?” asked my brother.

“I told them we don’t exchange Christmas gifts.”

“What about the Prada bag, the Coach handbag, and the cashmere scarf he got you?”

My mother looked at us blankly. “Oh.” Then, “I forgot.”

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t expect anyone to keep a ledger of every nice thing I’ve ever done for them and be able to recall it at will. I’d be hard-pressed to tell you what exactly I received for Xmas last year.

But when it’s only December 27th. . .

(Come to think of it, did I get anything last year?)

random thoughts. . .

You know that movie, “Freedom Writers”, the umpteenth one in which a white schoolteacher travels into the heart of the ghetto to lift up the lives of inner city students? I’d like to see them make a movie where a black schoolteacher from the ghetto travels up to an all-white suburban prep school, where every day he makes the students feel worse and worse about themselves. At the end of the movie, all of the students kill themselves out of shame and guilt. Then it cuts to a clip of the “I Have a Dream” speech before the closing credits, to make it artsy.

onto the games. . .

Week 16: With the Panthers’ playoff hopes still alive, the Chris Weinke era roared into its third exciting week as the Tar Heel Terror Squad met their archrival Falcons! The conundrum was a simple one: the Panthers are the most talented team in football, capable of beating any team in the league. The problem: Weinke is offensive poison. How do you create a game plan around a guy who’s 1-17? The answer: simple yet brilliant. Play without the QB! Unbelievably, on eight separate third downs, the Panthers took Weinke out of the game and snapped the ball directly to RB DeAngelo Willams, who ran for a first down seven times with an extra blocker in place! Do you understand how demoralizing that is to a defense? They’re saying: Hey over there. We are going to hike the ball to our running back on this play and he is going to run through you for a first down. That’s it. No tricks. Ready? Here we go. This is like watching an Italian guy walk over to the bar where you’re talking to your girlfriend, stand between you two, and proceed to buy her a drink. And you can’t do anything but watch as he starts squeezing her butt.

Panthers win, 10-3. At 7-8, with a win and Giants’ and Packers’ losses the following week, they would make the postseason!

Week 17: With the Giants winning the night before, the Panthers knew coming into the game that their season was over. For 29 teams in this league, it would be time to phone it in (see Atlanta’s ’05 season-ending stinker, 11-44 to the Panthers). But there’s no “quit” in “Panthers.” There’s not even a “qui,” a “qu,” or a “q.” QB Jake Delhomme, carrying himself with the kind of confidence that going after Chris Weinke will do for you, returned with a vengeance, going 23-of-27 for 207 yards and two touchdowns, including a beautiful 22-yard “Hail Smitty” to Steve Smith to tie the game 7-7 in the first quarter!

The New Orleans crowd realized they were seeing something magical. Even the Saints starters asked to be taken out of the game, sensing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to bear witness to perfection. The Panthers were an offensive juggernaut, shutting down New Orleans like an illegal Daniela Cicarelli video (http://www.porkolt.com/other/daniela+cicarelli/voyeur/beach/spain/brasileira/ronaldo/daniela-cicarellis-beach-sex-6166.html), winning 31-21. As the Panthers exited the Superdome, heads held proudly high, the Saints couldn’t help breathing a sigh of relief, knowing that the better team had won, and but for a stretch of bad luck, would have been the ones going to the playoffs. The statistics may say that New Orleans won the NFC South, but the true champions of the division, the moral victors, are the people’s champion. America’s Team.

Your Carolina Panthers.

Until next year.

RROWRRRRRRRR!

[Superbly entertaining video clip: http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=ab33ca0726 (whether this is a real newscast, I have no idea, but it’s very funny regardless)]

Week 15: We Are Panthers

2006-12-23T18:54:00.000-05:00

You may have heard about the Chester Zoo in England where a Komodo dragon has immaculately conceived (self-fertilization is a common amphibian survival mechanism) and is due to deliver eight babies sometime around Christmastime. (http://www.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/europe/12/20/uk.komodo.reut/index.html) The national media isn’t touching this story with a ten-foot pole. But I promise not to make any jokes about that. Even if the Dalai Lama, a few imams, and the Council of Rabbis are planning to send a package of frankincense and myrrh addressed to the “Kings of Kings, Komodo Dragon Enclosure, Chester Zoo, UK.” Because there’s something even more ridiculous.

Amidst all of the pandemonium of holiday travel, a Spanish woman sent her 1-month-old grandson through an x-ray machine at Los Angeles International Airport on Wednesday (http://www.cnn.com/2006/US/12/20/baby.airport.reut/index.html). The woman apparently spoke little English, and was traveling to Mexico. The baby was pulled out and examined at a local hospital, and deemed not to have suffered a dangerous dose of radiation.

That, my friends, is not only the most ridiculous story of this holiday season.

It is also, if I’m not mistaken, the way the Incredible Hulk was created.

Excuse me.

Un Hombre Increible.

Happy Jesus Days!

onto the game. . .

Deep in the heart of the South, the Chris Weinke era roared into a second thrilling week at Bank of America stadium! Nerve damage in his thumb continued to sideline the General, Jake Delhomme, who, watching the rigor mortis of the offense in his absence silence his most vocal critics, was relishing making sure he was 100 percent before coming back.

You know it’s going to be a bad game when the constant on your team, “Leg of God” K John Kasay, misses a FG. In his defense, it was a 50-yarder. Unfortunately, the 50 yard line was good field position for the Panthers in this game.

America’s Team was Weink-tastic against the Steelers this past week! Carolina’s drives were signature Chris Weinke football: punt, missed FG, punt, punt, blocked punt, FG, punt, punt, punt, INT, INT.

The Panthers even brought in QB Brett Basanez on the final drive to replace Weinke, which is a little like placing a Christmas tree air freshener inside a port-a-john on the Mall on July 4th at 8 pm.

And I hear what you’re saying: Chris is a one-of-a-kind talent, but what makes the rest of the team so Weink-tacular? Well, with an o-line plagued with injuries since the first game of the season, the Panthers have had trouble getting their running game going, putting more pressure on a passing game that unfortunately relies upon a serviceable-at-best quarterback. Their defense has kept them in games, but it hasn’t been infallible, particularly with the rash of injuries at the cornerback position, which has given up game-deciding long plays.

The Blitzburg defense was ferocious, and Weinke went down more times than Miss Nevada (http://splashnewsonline.blogspot.com/2003/12/photos-that-stripped-ms-nevada-of-her.html). [NOT SUITABLE FOR WORK] Willie Parker ran for 132 yards and Ben Roethlisberger converted 10 of 17 third downs, finishing 11-of-18 for 140 yards, 1 TD and no INTs.

Despite the odds, it’s Tar Heel Blue that runs through Chris Weinke’s veins, and for three quarters he kept it close! But no matter how great you are, a little bad luck can be your undoing. Early in the fourth, a Weink-ocious INT gave the Steelers the lucky break they needed to pull away, 34-3, and Carolina simply didn’t have enough time outs to make a comeback.

I don’t care who your team is, the nation is rallying behind everyone’s favorite underdog to win two straight and make another run at the Super Bowl! Have you ever witnessed a moment in history when a nation has so solidly believed in a longshot? When an entire country has silently cheered a gritty team of misfits that no one gave a chance? Their time is now! The playoff hunt begins in earnest this weekend! The Panthers travel to Atlanta to take on the 7-7 Falcons, who need this game to stay in the wild card hunt. No blog next week, while I’m on vacation; see you next year in the wild cards!

Prediction: Panthers 37, Falcons 20; Panthers 62, Saints 3

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRR!

[This week’s superbly entertaining YouTube recommendation: (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JdxkVQy7QLM)]

Week 14: Season's Beatings

2006-12-20T00:49:00.000-05:00

Every December, my father attends a medical conference in New York City, and I fly up and spend the weekend with him. The conference took place this past weekend, and I flew up on Thursday night. This year, I flew my mother into town as well.

Calling my mother on the way to LaGuardia

Me: Remind me what hotel he’s staying at?

Mom: Oh God, let me think. It’s…it’s called…he’s staying at the Twin Towers.

Me: Mmm, you’re going to want to recheck that.

(Correct answer: Sheraton Towers)

The first night at dinner

Every hotel stay for my parents becomes an epic battle of wills between them and the cleaning staff, whom they are convinced spend every idle moment devising new ways to rob them. We cannot simply leave our room than a soldier can pop away from his foxhole to stretch his legs a bit. The act of departing becomes a fifteen-minute ordeal. Anything of possible value has to be squirreled away into increasingly complex hiding spots. (My mother’s coin purse was tucked away into the inside pocket of my work bag, which itself was swaddled in loose papers for camouflage.) All loose change has to be collected, distributed across all of our pockets, and taken with us.

I’m the late riser of the house. My parents are usually up by 5:30, but even in New York, there’s not a whole lot you can do at that hour. Saturday morning, my mother turned on some lights and asked me how the t.v. worked. I handed her the remote and pulled a pillow over my head, waiting for a little more daylight before I went running in Central Park.

You know how, even if you’re not looking at a television directly, you can tell from the flickering light on the wall that something is happening on your t.v. screen? There was no sound yet, but I could tell there was activity.

I rolled over. On screen, across the top in bold letters, were the words “MATURE CONTENT,” and of the two possible options (“Select” and “Cancel”), the first had been highlighted. I looked over to where my mother was pressing random buttons on the remote.

“Here, why don’t you give me that?”

“But I want to watch a program.”

“You don’t want to watch that one.”

We were waiting for the crossing signal across from Rockefeller Center when we heard the sirens. Several cars back, a police car was trying to make its way through gridlock. The cars in front of it honked at the tourist crowd who were (legally) on the crosswalk and blocking them from moving. The general response was to look up at the crossing signal and then back at the cars in annoyance, or just mouth off to them directly.

I guess when you buy the FDNY/NYPD sweatshirts, you’re not obligated to care the other 364 days of the year.

My mother and I visited St. Patrick’s Cathedral. I tried to convince her that if she blew out all of the votives in one breath, her wish would come true. She wasn’t biting.

True story, in line to get into St. Patrick’s

The tourists in front of us were awestruck by the cathedral.

“Isn’t this amazing? Oh, it’s so spiritual being here, it just puts you in a totally different frame of mind—”

As she moved forward, she consciously ignored the woman standing at the church door, begging for alms

“—very spiritual.” “Oh, I agree,” nodded her friend. “It’s very spiritual.”

onto the game. . .

Let’s take a trip in the way-back machine, to my ’06 season preview report:

“This past Saturday, the Panthers cut their number three and four QBs, Stefan LaFors and Brett Basanez. ??? Who the heck are these guys? Do you realize we’re one cheap Kimo von Oelhoffen hit away from a Chris Weinke start? It didn’t have to be like this. Jeff Garcia was available. Kerry Collins was available. You don’t think these guys would consider joining a team with a shot at the Super Bowl? Even Billy Volek is available.”

Fast forward in time. Rumsfeld has resigned, the Democrats have won a national election, hell has officially frozen over, and up first in “all skate” is Chris Weinke. That’s right, this past Sunday, when the 6-6 Giants traveled to the Den to take on their wild card competition, the Appalachian Express, America’s Team, your CAROLINA PANTHERS, Chris Weinke, architect of the Panthers’ 1-15 season, was standing in for The General, Jake Delhomme. (Delhomme was nursing ligament damage in his thumb that would have prevented him from overthrowing his receivers in the fourth quarter.)

To the delight of fans worldwide, the first half was an exquisite offensive ballet, were the ballet dancers Stephen Hawking and Terry Schiavo. Eli Manning, showing all the confidence of a flat-chested girl in braces at her first high-school dance, overthrew Plaxico Burress and underthrew Jeremy Shockey. Luckily for them, the Panthers, without their starting cornerbacks, lost one of their second-string corners five minutes into the game, and compensated by inserting a middle-schooler from the NFL’s “Punt, Pass, Kick” league with a “lot of upside.” Giants take advantage to go up by 10!

Would the Panthers roll over and die? Not with the offense in the hands of former Heisman trophy winner and Rogaine poster boy Chris Weinke! With WR Steve Smith in double coverage the entire game, Weinke threw a TD pass to WR Drew Carter, the best third option since Roger Moore ordered his martini shaken not stirred. A FG by K John “Leg of God” Kasay, and we’re tied at 10!

Then, in the third, with their ground game non-existent, Weinke threw two interceptions. The Giants converted, entering the fourth leading 27-10. The Panthers responded by abandoning the running game, finishing with a 61-15 pass/run ratio! Weinke throws for 418 yards with 1 TD and 3 INTs. The 2001 magic is back, baby! Giants win 27-13.

Reader mail feature:

From Kevin C., at FBI headquarters (re: Michael’s defense of going for a PAT even if your QB can make a two-point conversion more than 50% of the time):

“I had to read the whole disclaimer before concluding that he was just making a dick comment and had no punchline.”

Next week:

From Michael Y., in Cairo, Egypt (subject line: “This Weekend”)

“What most people thought could be a preview of the Super Bowl has turned into a battle between two mediocre teams. I'm certain my Steelers will prevail and keep their minimal playoff chances still possible.”

After a grueling season, the feel-good story of the year, the gritty Panthers have hissed and clawed their way into the wild card hunt. It’s playoff mode from here on out! Can the Cinderella team of the century overcome the odds, find strength in each other, put aside their differences to work as a team, learn how to love again, and save the park from the developer?

Were there but a single universal truth to beam out in radio waves across outer space to let our distant neighbors know that, yes, intelligent life does exist on Earth, it would be this: you cannot stop Steve Smith at playoff time.

And right now, it’s on.

Prediction: Panthers 49, Steelers 6

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRR!

Week 13: Apocalypto

2006-12-07T08:24:00.000-05:00

The John Mellencamp-Chevy Silverado commercial has been talked about ad mortem, but there are other commercials that are being run ad nauseam.

Lexis December-to-Remember (setup: two guys walking around a Lexis w a red bow parked on the street): This is the one that goes “Someone got a Lexis for Christmas.” “Someone did.” “Maybe someone should start clearing out space in the garage.” “Someone already has.” I’ve watched this commercial more than five times, and I still have no idea what’s going on. Do they know who bought the Lexis? Did one of them buy it for his wife? Did one of them buy it for the other? “Someone should move to Massachusetts.” “Maybe someone plans to.” “Maybe someone will join him.”

Favorite new product name: Liquid Plumr’s “Foaming Pipe Snake” (http://www99.epinions.com/content_176223194756)

Rocky Balboa (movie trailer): classic example of not having enough friends in the real world. Sly, of course when people come up to you, they’re going to talk about “Rocky.” Frankly, you’re not that interesting. That doesn’t mean that when you’re not around, the rest of the world is talking about “Rocky.” And this is coming from someone who defends Rocky V.

Memo to NBC execs, t.v. critics, and intellectually superior fans—instead of blaming the low ratings for “Studio 60” on America’s inability to appreciate intelligent programming, try making a promo that’s even remotely funny or interesting. And then maybe you won’t get your Nielsens handed to you by Hilariously Mismatched Overweight Guy and Saucy Wife Prefab Sitcom.

---

New track recommendation: “Hood Boy,” Fantasia Barrino feat. Big Boi (URL)

Fantasia = Macey Gray – Renee Zellwegger

---

There’s a lot of talk about how Tennessee can beat any team in the league right now. Let’s not get carried away. Any football prognosticator honest enough to tally their picks will almost always finish a season close to .500. In other words, you can probably call as many games by season’s end by flipping a coin as can the people making seven figures a year doing nothing but this. Any team can be beaten any week; Tennessee has managed to come up heads a few weeks in a row. But take a look at how it’s won—this team would just as easily have finished 3-13. Remember the coin flip model; it becomes important later.

---

onto the game. . .

Heading into the bright lights of Monday night, the question on everyone’s mind was, can America’s Team, your CAROLINA PANTHERS keep up their momentum and remain one of the few true powerhouses of the NFC? An entire nation was treated to a clinic on Panther football.

First half: punt, punt, punt, Carolina touchdown (Smith), punt, punt, punt, punt, punt, punt, punt, punt, Philadelphia touchdown (Westbrook), punt, punt, Carolina touchdown (Johnson). Panthers lead 14-7 at the half!

[Cue Hank Williams Jr. “Are you ready for some punting?/A whole lotta three ‘n outs!/Lackadaisical offense/Is what Carolina’s all about. . .(Little Richard: “Whoooo!”)”]

The second half was a battle for the ages. Point for point, QB Jeff Garcia (despite being oddly booed by Philly fans) matched the best that Delhomme and the Panthers could offer. The Philly receivers kept burning the Carolina corners, and Garcia tied it at 14. However, RB DeAngelo “Brown Sugar” Williams, having a career night in his spotlight as the starter, ran in a 35 yard pass from Delhomme, to put the Panthers up 21-14 at the start of the fourth!

The Big Cat D held the Phillies to 3, and a FG from “Leg of God” K John Kasay brought the Carolina lead back up to 7. Shot of Sylvester Stallone in a booth, mouthing, “Please make me still relevant.” If I can change, you can change! We can all change! Garcia throws a 40-yard pass, Carolina corners practice nonviolent resistance. We’re tied at 24!

Then, with fewer than ten minutes left, Delhomme throws deep directly into the hands of Brian Dawkins. Slight problem. Brian Dawkins plays for the Eagles. Delhomme’s been referred to as a “riverboat gambler,” “gunslinger,” and on Monday Night, by Steve Young as a “swashbuckler.” Since when did it become necessary to use romance-novel covers to describe a quarterback who sucks?

There are those who run from adversity. There are those who are made great by it. Eagles take it to the Carolina 12. But the Growling Wall would not give! With a first down at the Carolina 12, Philadelphia is held to a field goal. Down three points, Carolina has a chance to win the game outright!

WR Steve Smith sets up a 1^st and 7 at the Philly 7, with 48 seconds left and two timeouts. At worst, this game is going to go into overtime. But there won’t be a worst-case scenario.

Because with Delhomme, there’s always a worster-case scenario! End zone interception by Lito Sheppard on a pass intended for Keyshawn Johnson! Garcia kneels it out, and the Eagles win by 3!

There’s been mounting criticism of Delhomme these past few weeks, but I question whether he’s to blame for the two interceptions at Philly. The final play was the exact same play he’d made at the end of the first half to Keyshawn to put the Panthers up. Keyshawn didn’t get separation this time, and out of the next nine times Lito Sheppard tried to keep his feet inbounds on that grab, I’m sure he’d make it exactly zero times. It was that close.

As for the first INT, look back two plays. Nick Goings seemingly missed his route, Delhomme overthrew him, and was almost picked off by a safety coming in to defend. Fast forward. Goings takes a shorter route than Delhomme is expecting, the pass is overthrown. . .to the safety coming in to defend. I’d say there’s a better than even chance Goings messed up his route twice (I’m also convinced he suffered severe brain damage in the hit he took in Seattle during last year’s championship game).

So, was it Delhomme’s responsibility to not lob the first pass so high, and make a correction when he saw Keyshawn out of position? Would he even have been able to adjust on a timing pass? Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t play football. But I take exception to the criticism from the commentators, talking about how much worse Delhomme is this season. Over his career in Carolina, his completion percentage is about 60%, he throws about 15.5 interceptions each year, and he finishes with a QB rating in the mid to high eighties. As of the ¾ mark of the season, he’s projected to complete 59.4 percent, throw 15 interceptions, and finish with a QB rating of 79.4.

Remember the coin flip analogy I was making earlier? It’s the same Jake Delhomme. He’s just turning up tails right now. (And when your number two guy is 1-15 as a starter, there’s no point in even talking about benching Delhomme, unless you want to just hike the ball directly to the intended receiver every play.)

So, after battling through a bruising season, the Panthers have clawed their way into the thick of the wild-card hunt! Is there any team in the NFL that other teams are more afraid of playing right now than the Panthers?!

Next week: Giants at Panthers. With the exception of Dallas-New Orleans, the most exciting NFC matchup next week! Do you realize that we may witness the most entertaining fourth quarter in NFL history? It’s like some cosmic dream race between Mount Vesuvius and Three Mile Island! Delhomme will have one of his signature tantrums while Eli “Bizarro Delhomme” will start throwing shovel passes directly to Julius Peppers! Burress and his safety coverage will both quit and just start walking their plays at some point! Nick Goings will run some retarded route into the stands! Can you feel the excitement?!

Prediction: Panthers 4, Giants 2

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRR!

Week 12: Thanksgiving 2--Revenge of the Indians

2006-12-02T19:17:00.000-05:00

Got the following email from Harvard Club of Washington:

Learn How to Pack for the Holidays and Beyond w/the Queen of Innovative
Packing Laura Haverkorn

Sunday, Dec. 10, 2006

Cost: $5.members/$10.nonmembers

Time: 10:30AM - 11:30PM ET

Location: Innovative Luggage

3068 M Street, NW

Washington, DC 20007

202-333-6299

Description: Join us for this complete primer on packing and receive
innovative tips on how to streamline your packing.

Several valuable pieces of luggage will be given away at this event so
please join us and bring friends. Additionally, I understand that each
participant will receive gifts that will aid in the packing process.
Refreshments will be served.

I find this fascinating. How does one become a “Queen” of packing? Is it a hereditary title? Is it decided by “Tetris”? Do Harvard grads really need to pay someone five bucks to show them how to pack a suitcase? Do non-Harvard grads really need to pay someone twice as much to someone to show them how to pack a suitcase? Is that a typo, or does she really expect this to take thirteen hours? What kind of gifts “aid in the packing process”? Bubble wrap? A lien on your worldly goods? What kinds of innovative tips should attendees expect? “Don’t pack that extra rock.” “Underwear can be worn four times, not just twice.” “That ‘Li’l Jihadist Activity Set’ is probably better sent by UPS.”

---

I don’t like Christopher Guest movies. In fact, the only thing I dislike more than Christopher Guest movies are gushing fans of Christopher Guest movies. Here’s the inconvenient truth: they’re not funny. The nut scene in “Best in Show”—doesn’t make me laugh. The soup scene in “Best in Show”—doesn’t make me laugh. I don’t care if the dialogue is totally unscripted, or if all of the boom mike operators are Balinese dwarves; the only thing that matters is whether it’s funny or not. I don’t have to “appreciate” a movie because of wildly innovative but ultimately boring dialogue any more than I have to “appreciate” a suck-ass meal because the chef made the entire thing in a dishwasher. If they were documentaries, they’d be pretty funny. But since they’re not, they should be funnier.

---

Onto the game. . .

From Brian B., in NYC:

“btw, my carolina panthers lost today to the washington freaking redskins. I don’t know if you saw the game or heard about the results or anything, but the redskins (4-7 record, LAST ranked defense in the NFC) beat my carolina panthers, helped by an end zone interception, and what you might call a disappointing performance on defense by my carolina panthers, especially in the secondary. washington, on the other hand, played very good defense, holding my carolina panthers to something like 250 yards.

cheers,

brian”

The field was angry last week, my friends.

The Redskins defense, outraged by an espn.com article suggesting that their last-ranked defense wasn’t playing that well, played with a purpose. The Big Cat D, having shut out St. Louis the week before, was spoiling for a fight.

The offensive play-calling, meanwhile, appeared to be fulfilling a Make-a-Wish obligation.

First half: punt, INT, punt, punt, punt, Carolina FG, turnover on downs, punt, punt, punt, Redskins FG, punt, punt, Carolina FG, end of half. Not since “A Mighty Wind” have so many been so enthralled by so little!

After halftime, business picked up. A shank punt from P Jason Baker gave the Redskins the field position to take the lead, 10-7, in the third. But in the fourth, the General, QB Jake Delhomme led the Panthers on a 15-play, 74-yard drive, culminating in a two-feet-barely-in reception by WR Steve Smith in the endzone. Touchdown, Panthers! Panthers up 13-10 with less than seven minutes to go! It’s all over!

But wait. Two drives later, a blown tackle, and Redskins QB Lando Calrissian connects with TE Chris Cooley for a 66-yard TD. Unbelievably, the Redskins are still in it!

With less than two minutes to go, the ball was once again in Jake Delhomme’s hands. In two plays, he took the Panthers from their own 29 to the Redskins 41. Redskins fans were resigning themselves to the inevitable when, instead, they got the unthinkable—an end zone heave into double coverage, with three downs and over a minute left. Interception! Redskins win! The three-hour wait to get out of FedEx field parking lot is raucous!

What happened? The defense, but for a critical missed tackle by DB Mike Minter, had pretty much shut down Washington all day. RB DeAngelo Williams carried the ball 17 times for 68 yards, not execrable by any means. And but for a couple of drops, the wide receivers and tight ends were getting more open than Britney Spears’ “red zone.”

So, is it the coaching or the quarterback?

Coach Fox has made some questionable decisions this season. The three straight running plays late in the fourth quarter of this game, when they were down by one score. The Keyshawn trick play resulting in an interception against St. Louis. The CB Chris Gamble trick play that cost them the Vikings game. The new material he wrote for Michael Richards.

For most of the game, it looked as though he was content w the offense being a crapshoot and relying upon his defense to prevent the Redskins from scoring. The strategy is to hold the other side in check and then just hope that things miraculously get better? That’s our Iraq foreign policy, not how you win a football game!

Or is it Delhomme? On riverboat casinos, are bad gamblers referred to as “wild-armed quarterbacks”? He threw the fourth-quarter pick to end the game in Washington, just as he did in Cincinnati, even when less risky plays were viable. But his completion percentage is about the same as it’s been since he’s been a Panther (~60%), and he’s on pace to throw about the same number of interceptions that he has over the past three years (~15.5).

Are the Panthers done? Is Star Jones too sexy? Just one week ago, the Panthers were in first place in their division!

In fact, some would argue that a loss actually puts the Panthers in a better position. With Michael Vick continuing the family tradition of threatening innocent bystanders and Tampa Bay officially changing its name to the Washington Generals, the NFC South is a race between Carolina and New Orleans. Had Carolina pulled ahead with a two-game lead, the Saints might have revamped their offense, and turned to their running game. But now, they’re more likely to keep up Drew Brees’ torrid passing yardage for the rest of the season.

And who got labrum surgery just a few months ago? Crazy, you say.

Or crazy like a Fox?. . .

Random thoughts. . .

Screw you, Theisman! Screw you! Moment of the Week

Theisman: These weather conditions are perfect for a back like Shaun Alexander, because he keeps his feet under him.

Kornheiser: Where else would he keep them, Joe?

If America cared about Brett Favre as much as football commentators do, he’d have more product endorsements than any athlete in history.

Next Monday night: The Scourge of Dixie travels to Philadelphia to take on the Eagles.

Prediction: The only thing A.J. Feely manages to score all night is Heather Mitts. Panthers 85, Eagles 6.

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRR!

Week 11: The Big O

2006-11-24T09:11:00.000-05:00

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!

Week 10: Happy Feet

2006-11-17T23:42:00.000-05:00

In a brilliant business ploy, Sony has decided to heighten demand for its Playstation 3 by not actually selling any before Christmas.

"Given the hundreds of people who camped out for the chance to buy one of ten that were delivered to their neighborhood Circuit City, it was a no-brainer to take it to the next level and not ship any at all," explained an unidentified Sony spokesperson, a recent Harvard MBA grad. "What we lose in revenue we more than make up for in viral marketing."

Experts agree.

"It makes perfect sense," commented a self-described hardcore gamer, emailing from his apartment which hasn’t seen a woman enter under her own volition in more than a decade. "Think about how many more customers they get with this kind of buzz. Well, theoretical customers."

Indeed, for the past few weeks, gaming message boards have experienced round-the-clock discussions of the PS3, with the most popular threads being: "Where Can I Get A PS3," "This Is What I Imagine Playing a PS3 Is Like," "How Do I Turn Off the Feature Where It Catches on Fire?," and "Looking For Sex."

Meanwhile, Harvard MBA grads at Nintendo, Inc. intend to capitalize on deferred expectations this weekend by launching what may be the lamest gaming system ever. The Nintendo Wii claims to heighten the gaming experience with a controller that incorporates the player’s hand gestures, thus allowing players to wield a sword onscreen or fend off a wedgie. Nintendo expects brisk sales of its first release, “Eatin’ Cheetos!,” and has offered to bus interested purchasers in unmarked vans to local retailers. Nintendo has guaranteed it will never release the identities of Wii purchasers. Ever.

- - -

First, college: it’s the showdown people have been talking about all season. The two top teams in the country. A championship on the line. A rivalry more than a century old. This Saturday, the nation will be watching Boston, as 7-2 Yale meets 7-2 Harvard in the 123^rd edition of The Game! A win by Yale guarantees a piece of the Ivy League title, and a loss by Princeton gives them the title outright! Boola boola! Boola boola! Go Elis!

Onto the game. . .

After a disastrous fourth-quarter collapse to Dallas, our heroes entered the by-week at 4-4, one loss more than my comfort level, two more than their internal goal. Expectations were high that this season would be a tale of two halves, and that America’s Team, the Growling Wall, your CAROLINA PANTHERS would return to form and storm through to the Super Bowl!

After watching the Big Cat D turn their starting quarterback into an involuntary organ donor earlier this season, you knew that the Bucs offense was going to make this personal. And they did. In the first half, B. Gradkowski personally threw two interceptions, victimized at will by the Felonious Felines featuring a healthy CB Ken Lucas!

But the Cats seemed unable to capitalize on their auspicious defense, scoring less than Kelly in Cancun. They headed into the locker room down 7-0.

It was, as they say, a tale of two halves. And in the first half, the Panthers did not “have” a running game. But in the second half, they did “have” WR Steve Smith.

A 43-yard catch by Smith in the first drive after the half put the Panthers in field goal range! 3-7, Panthers! A fumble recovery by sack-tastic DE Julius Peppers on the Bucs first drive led to a WR Keyshawn Johnson touchdown! 10-7, Panthers! MVP-front runner Peppers would finish the game with three sacks and a fumble. Meanwhile, the Panthers’ run defense was tighter than a Senate page’s bunghole, limiting RB Cadillac Williams to 15 carries for 44 yards.

Smith, having caught the flu from his daughter, spent most of his time between plays throwing up in a trash can on the sideline. But you can’t stop the Pocket Dynamo, you can only hope to dehydrate him! Eight receptions for 149 yards, including the game-clinching touchdown! (And for every Randy Moss who collects a six-figure paycheck and doesn’t even care about the game, you have to love Smith’s post-game explanation for why he continued playing: “This is how I feed my family.”) 24-10, Panthers win! Panthers win!

Next week: The city of St. Louis, still celebrating the lowest-rated World Series in decades, sends the personality-challenged Marc Bulger and the Rams to Bank of America Stadium.

Prediction: Panthers 38, St. Louis 4

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRR!

Week 9: Bye

2006-11-17T23:41:00.000-05:00

Week 8: Flushed Away

2006-11-03T09:06:00.000-05:00

I’m a nerd. Not the sexy, technoliterate paper millionaire type, more your classic comic-book-steeped, standardized-test-beating geek. The Internet boom turned the traditional jock-nerd order topsy-turvy. Become a star in football, and you can make millions. Become a star in cyberdom, and make billions. And own the football team.

The tech-unsavvy geeks among us, however, were left out of the loop completely, just smart enough to know the next big thing after we saw it go blazing by.

When I first heard of Second Life, I assumed it was for the Dungeons & Dragons set. It’s an online multiplayer game, basically a virtual world where players (over one million strong, now) create characters, or "avatars," that roam about this world and interact. That’s it. There’s no object to this game, no way to "win." Its more popular rival, Worlds of Warcraft (over 7m strong), is your more typical fantasy game, where you go around killing warlocks and acquiring strength points and whatnot. In Second Life, people just…live (if you can call it "life"). You can start a business, hang out at bars, go clubbing, etc. All within the rigid order of Second Life house rules (e.g., no intolerance, no harassment of other players, no "adult" behavior outside of designated Mature Zones, etc.).

At first, I wrote it off as a pastime for people who taught themselves Middle Earth dialects. Then in May of this year, I read a Business Week cover story about Second Life (http://www.businessweek.com/magazine/content/06_18/b3982001.htm), profiling a (real) woman who makes a (real) low six figure income developing and selling virtual real estate in Second Life. And I thought, hmm. Later, I would read about Suzanne Vega performing a concert exclusively within Second Life to the delight of thousands of avatars. And I thought, hmm. Three weeks ago, I read about Sun Microsystems unrolling one of their new platforms exclusively within Second Life (to reach a wider audience of programmers). Interesting. But not my thing.

What ultimately piqued my interest was the discovery that one of my Harvard Law professors, Charlie Nesson, was teaching a cyberlaw class for the Extension School. Exclusively through Second Life. (http://www.ivygateblog.com/blog/2006/08/prof_charles_nesson_now_permanently_high.html)

I still didn’t understand it, but I knew this was something big. And I knew there was only one way to figure it out.

Three weeks ago, I downloaded the game onto my computer and created an avatar, named "Motykade Emu" (a combination of the log-in name of one of my colleagues and "emu"). I spent much of the time trying to drown him (not deliberately—you start on something called Orientation Island, and I kept walking into the ocean). I hit on the first attractive avatar I saw (which, in retrospect, was probably some 45-year-old help desk tech in Duquesne) and was promptly rejected (prompting a "Your loss, b*tch!" in flagrant disregard of the harassment policy). After thirty minutes of abject boredom, I parked my guy in a public hammock, where he’s been sleeping ever since.

There are webzines about style trends in Second Life (http://www.secondstyle.com/). It has its own Reuters correspondent (http://secondlife.reuters.com/), a thriving fashion industry (http://online.wsj.com/public/article/SB115888412923570768-zVZuILNMf6YlpTXqtuGcTAWcrWY_20070925.html?mod=blogs), and a real estate market (http://secondlife.com/whatis/landpricing.php). Virginia politician Mark Warner participated in a townhall meeting in Second Life (http://www.economist.com/business/displaystory.cfm?story_id=7963538). Toyota sells cars in Second Life, Adidas sells sneakers, and Starwood has hotels in some of the most desirable locations (http://gigaom.com/2006/08/20/adidas-toyota-come-to-second-life/). Duran Duran has performed inside of Second Life, as have Chamillionaire and Regina Spektor (http://secondlife.com/community/music.php).

"I still don’t get why people play this game," I said to my neighbor Debbie.

"I bet it’s these low-level computer programmers in real life, who don’t have a whole lot of control over their lives," she opined. "In Second Life, they can be attractive, and own nice homes, and interact with people who aren’t going to make fun of them—"

"Actually—"

"—well, when you’re not on. I mean, look at the rules, right? It’s almost like they were designed by people who have been bullied their whole lives. Maybe it’s not just a game for them; maybe it’s a better life they can escape into."

But it’s not like people even escape into Second Life to do cool things, like open a hangliding courier service, or walk around in a suit of live dogs. A lot of people just go in there and set up regular businesses where they work and interact with other avatars. I toyed with the idea of setting up a branch office of my firm in Second Life, promptly leaving work to log on at home and bill several more hours. I’d show up for work looking exhausted. ‘What’s wrong?’ Debbie would ask. I’d look at her, bleary-eyed as I gulped down a 32 oz. cup o’ joe. ‘My cases in Second Life are heating up. Everybody in our office is getting slammed.’

***

This past weekend was our five-year Harvard Law School reunion.

People, for the most part, looked the same, or better. It made sense; considering the age at which most of our classmates started law school, add five years of maturity, plus a steady income, and we were all pretty much coming into our prime.

The first night, I had dinner in Pound Hall at a table full of ’01s with whom I had the sort of generalized familiarity where I couldn’t be sure I’d ever actually met them before. It was tough to catch up with people I’d never actually known law school. But, for the most part, we were all still lawyering. Trade school murders that promise of unpredictability you find at high school and college reunions.

The conversations all weekend ran pretty much the same. ‘Oh, hi (stealing glance at name tag), what do you do now?’ ‘I work at [firm].’ Or, ‘I used to work at [firm] and now I work at [firm].’ ‘That’s great! I hear that’s a good firm.’

Maybe some of us mixed it up by going into teaching, or getting married and having kids, but the past five years were pretty neatly summed in a sentence or two.

On Saturday, I attended a panel discussion by a group of ‘01s. It was thoroughly entertaining, and midway through, I began wishing I had gotten to know more of these people when we all went to school together. Then I began thinking back to how they looked then (how I looked then!). There are reasons, right or wrong, why we associate with the people we do, and were I to encounter them today as they looked the way they were, I don’t know that I would act any differently.

In a sense, maybe what I was seeing were my classmates’ avatars, projections of their best selves, how they had wanted to be back then. And maybe these are the people most likely to return for reunions, sending these stylized versions of themselves to interact with other avatars in this artificial world no longer real for us.

Sharing a cab ride back to my brother’s place, Brandi remarked that it didn’t feel like much time had passed, as though we were all coming back to campus after really long internships. And the tragedy of it is, maybe we haven’t realized where all the time has gone, working at firms. Was this October materially different from how we spent October of last year, or the year before? Would we come back for our ten-year reunion, with just two more sentences to tell each other about what we had done in the past five years?

One night, I tried socializing with alums of different classes. I had the pleasure of running into Gene D, class of ’61. He came over to the table where Soheil and I were sitting with a table full of ’01 women, and exhorted them to grab one of us while they still could. Eugene is like a charming old grandfather, at once acerbic and gregarious. He also has the single greatest business card I’ve ever seen. It reads (center):

Gene D
Retired – No Money
World Traveler
International Lover
Last of the Big Spenders
And in the four corners of the card (clockwise):
No Phone
No Worries
No Address
No Business

I couldn’t help but think that if there were a way to win this game, Gene D has found it.

Onto the game. . .

Wherever the Dallas Cowboys play this season, you can be assured of two things: a wholly media-fabricated WR Terrell Owens controversy and comparisons between QB Drew Bledsoe’s mobility and Stephen Hawking’s. (I think it would be funny if this criticism followed him to other parts of his life as well. Like, if the Bledsoes were contemplating a switch at carving duty on Thanksgiving because Drew "holds onto the knife too long.") This past Sunday, all eyes were on the Cowboys, not just because it was a prime time game, not just because it marked the debut of the enigma, Tony Romo, at QB, but because the Cowboys were taking on the most beloved franchise in all of professional sports, America’s Team, your CAROLINA PANTHERS!

For a quarter, the Panthers were the fearsome machine that led many sportswriters to declare them Super Bowl champs before a game had been played. The Team of Destiny scored the games first TD; then, in the first play off of a Cowboys turnover, Delhomme to Smith 24 yards for a second touchdown! Panthers up 14-0!

The Cowboys would bring it to within four to end the half, but the Big Cat D was suffocating. A demoralized Cowboys squad headed back to the locker room as their fans back home popped open another beer and started listening to some retard song about getting dumped by a girl or kicking Saddam’s ass or a combination thereof.

In the second half, the Panthers dropped the ball. Literally.

Steve Smith, RB DeShaun Foster (whose yards per carry are somewhere between Edgerrin James and an Easter Island head), and QR Keyshawn Johnson all dropped passes. FB Brad Hoover fumbled a punt return, resulting in a Cowboys TD. Steve Smith dropped a punt return, resulting in such bad field position that Delhomme threw an INT to avoid a safety, giving the Cowboys another score instead. If holding onto the ball was going out of style, then the Panthers were the coolest guys in the room.

In the end, though, all the credit in the world has to go to Coach John Fox. Whereas less visionary coaches would have simply put away the inept Cowboys after the first period, Coach Fox understood the psychological edge the Panthers would have playing all of their playoff games on the road, just as they did during their miracle run to the Super Bowl. With the league’s best defense and most versatile offense, why risk bad karma by competing for home field advantage?

For those of us sitting at the feet of genius and gazing in wonderment, all we can say is, why indeed?! The Cowboys left with a technical victory, but the Panthers returned to their locker room head held high, with a standing ovation from a sold-out Bank of American stadium, knowing that the road to the playoffs had officially begun!!!!

Next week: bye

Prediction:

Panthers 3, Bye 0

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRR!

Week 7: The Illusionist

2006-11-03T09:04:00.000-05:00

On my flight to Chicago last weekend, the woman sitting in my aisle was one
of those fatty chatty types that never found a private conversation she
couldn’t barge into. She was an older white woman, and my poor countryman
shielding her from me was stuck furnishing the bulk of the responses. It
didn’t matter that his English was so fresh-off-the-boat that her rapid-fire
questions curried him in his own confusion; silence was her mortal enemy.

Brotherhood? Whenever my countryman turned to me for help, I would raise my
book closer to my face.

You know how the seats in a plane are so close together that you can’t help
but hear the conversations in the row behind you? On the ground in Chicago,
as we all stood up, this lady turns to the people behind us (having never
introduced herself) and tells the couple, "Enjoy your vacation!" and the
solo male traveler "Cheer hard for your girlfriend this weekend!" "Um," he
said in bewilderment, "I will." "You’ll have to cheer hard for my two
friends too." "Uh…okay." "They were training to run with our youth pastor,
but he died this May." Silence. "Very sad." More silence.

"Do you remember hearing the story about those two brothers who tried to
rescue that kayaker this spring?" she asked, turning around to startle my
countryman. He nodded without any firm grasp of what was being asked.
"Well, all three of them died. But the kayaker was our youth minister."
Her chatter tailed him as they exited the plane ahead of me.

The more he heard about the youth minister, I think, the more he began to
envy him.

People dress up for marathons. I saw a guy running in a Superman suit (with
padding). I also saw a Fred and Wilma Flintstones. The problem is, they
got separated. So, as Wilma ran ahead, the crowd chanted "Toga! Toga!
Toga!" And when Fred came by, people weren’t quite sure what he was
supposed to be (he had taken off the signature blue kerchief for chafing
reasons). One spectator offered: "Go…watermelon slice!"

The race sucked on many levels. It’s a 34,000+-person race, and every year,
the logistics get more difficult. Every race morning becomes a more
frenetic scramble to find a cab. At the race stie, 34,000+ (and more each
year) are squeezing past each other shoulder-to-shoulder trying to get to
(i) the porta-potty lines, (ii) the bag check line, and (iii) their start
corrals, all of which are located in different parts of Grant Park. Not to
mention the fact that it was rainy and in the high thirties.

But my day was still nothing compared to the winner’s. Check out this
finish.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GWheGgqmq0A

(Update: He spent two nights in the hospital, and has been released.)

Special congratulations to the most exciting team in all of college sports!
The storied Yale Bulldogs pulled an upset win over Penn this past weekend,
propelling them to a 5-1 record to tie them atop the Ivies with Princeton!
With the Tigers ending Harvard’s unbeaten streak the same weekend, both Yale
and Harvard are sitting on 5-1 records with four weeks to go in the season.
Will The Game this year determine the Ivy League championship? Will
Princeton insist it has a rivalry with Yale and Harvard while neither of
them care? Stay tuned!

Onto the game. . .

Having dominated them 52-31 in their previous meeting, America’s Team, the
Appalachian Assassins, your CAROLINA PANTHERS returned to Cincinnati four
years later riding a four-game win streak. But the Bengals were ready for
them, with several key starters returning from injury.

(My paralegal Sophia got a "football injury" this past weekend. Why are you
wearing glasses?, I asked her. I got an eye injury playing football, she
said. What happened?, I asked, suddenly concerned. The girl in front of me
would flip her ponytail back when she hiked the ball, and once it hit me in
the eye.

There are times when it’s better to just make up a story.)

The Panthers were writing their own story, entitled Thanks For Keeping My
Foot Warm With Your Ass. The Tar Heel Terror Squad dominated from coin to
whistle, with touchdowns by TE Kris Mangum and RB Nick Goings putting the
Cats ahead 14-10 through the end of the third! Sensing the futility of
playing against the most dominant team in the history of the NFL, Cincinnati
went with a gutsy call in the fourth, calling a pass play on 4th-and-1.

Would WR Chad Johnson choke? In Cincinnati, birthplace of Henry Heimlich?
A new set of downs and a Houshmandzadeh TD, Bengals up 17-14!

Down by 3, less than six minutes to go. Just another Sunday for Cool Hand
Jake.

The General marched the Panthers downfield and was at third and goal when he
realized his dilemma. Score here, and the Bengals were likely out of the
playoffs. Let them hang on, however, and you increased the chances that
they, rather than a stronger AFC team, would face Carolina in the Super
Bowl.

With laser-like precision, Delhomme guided the ball into the startled hands
of Bengals S Kevin Kaesviharn. Cinci holds onto the ball and the win! What
a virtuoso performance by Pro Bowler Delhomme! What cunning! What presence
of mind!

Next week: Tony Romo gets Made, starting for the Cowboys in Carolina.

Prediction:

Panthers 49, Dallas 6

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRR!

Week 6: Open Season

2006-10-20T17:54:00.000-05:00

Last Saturday, Shannon took me to the opera. (We’d been on something of a live music kick lately—two weeks ago, I took her to a Tool concert). Not an opera, per se, more like a “Now That’s What I Call Music” sampler of some of opera’s most recognizable arias, a greatest hits, if you will, performed by some of the genre’s rising stars. Naturally, I had a number of penetrating questions.

“What do I wear to this?” I asked.

“Wear whatever you’d wear to a matinee opera.”

???

Oh, well naturally. Presumably more formal than when I go lawn bowling at Bob Woodward’s, but less formal than what I wear to Condoleeza Rice’s “Eyes Wide Shut” parties.

I decided to entertain myself. I went with a white sweater, white shirt, a red cotton Polo tie (remember those?) and red velvet pants. I was hoping I’d meet a lot of her friends. She tried to drop me off in front.

(I have discovered one of women’s best-kept secrets: velvet pants. Guys, you have no idea how comfortable these things are. This is bigger than when they let us in on shaving in the shower.)

The show was designed to draw more than the usual opera crowd. It was intended to be accessible to people like me, explained the review that would come out days later. “[A] roster of gifted young singers presented arias, duets and full ensembles. . . .The Kennedy Center opera house was filled. . .and the atmosphere was appropriately festive,” ran the Post.

During an impassioned rendition of “O mio babbino caro,” Shannon turned to me, eyes a-glow. “Do you recognize this?”

I nodded excitedly. “This is from the pasta primavera commercial for Olive Garden,” I whispered back.

I found the concert very enjoyable. In fact, it reminded me a lot of the Tool concert.

Demographics, Tool: 95% white

Demographics, Kennedy Center: 95% white

“. . .I’ve never seen [Placido] Domingo so exultantly happy, so visibly charged with paternal pride. . .”

Medical equipment on standby, Tool: ambulances

Medical equipment on standby, Kennedy Center: wheelchairs

“. . .[Scott Hendricks] has a flexible, dark-hued voice, dapper and expressive, that he employs with sure dramatic intelligence. . .”

Set list, Kennedy Center: select Puccini and Mozart arrangements from Cosi Fan Tutte, Marriage of Figaro, Gianni Schicchi, Magic Flute, etc.

Set list, Tool: Stinkfist, Eulogy, AEnema, Prison Sex, Hooker With a Penis, etc.

“. . .[Arturo Chacon-Cruz]’s ‘Che gelida manina’ was a little rough and ready—there is still some seasoning to be done—but the voice is a beautiful one, shot through with sun and poetry. . .”

Behind us, Tool: the fan who celebrated the end of every song by spraying beer onto the rows in front of him; the headbanger who lost his balance and fell face forward five rows slamming to a stop in the backs of our seats

Behind us, Kennedy Center: the guy who hummed along to the arias; the woman who decided to open the world’s most intricately wrapped mint; the guy who thought Korean soprano JiYoung Lee looked “like Kristi Yamaguchi”

“. . .[Tatiana Borodina] seemed somewhat miscast in the roles of Mimi and Madame Butterfly, which she sang with a fierce, tight Russian intensity that is not naturally suited to this expansively lyrical music. . .”

Number of nuns behind us, Tool: none

Number of nuns behind us, Kennedy Center: one. (Interestingly, she did not say ‘God bless you!’ when I sneezed. Someone else did. Wtf? I mean, what else is she supposed to do all day? Is she afraid she’ll run out? Is she only allotted a fixed number, like friends and family tickets?)

“. . .[Benjamin Makino] needs to watch his singers a little more carefully, observing and responding to them instead of just leading the orchestra. . .”

Hey, We’re Twins Moment, Tool: Me: “I think the singer and I are wearing the same jeans.”

Hey, We’re Twins Moment, Kennedy Center: Shannon: “Look, the soprano’s wearing a velvet dress too.”

The “too” was unnecessary.

After it ended, I stood outside the restrooms as the exiting crowd swirled around me, awash with tweeds and corduroys and a collective memory of regattas in Annapolis and vineyards in Napa, their days of lattes and consultant-speak bookended by NPR and Bill O’Reilly.

“Well,” asked Shannon as she rejoined me, “what did you think?”

“I liked it. But let’s get out of here,” I said, looking guardedly over my shoulder.

“This crowd weirds me out.”

Onto the game. . .

The Ravens. Coming into this past Sunday, they had one of the league’s top-five defenses and a newfound swagger with QB Steve McNair behind the center’s ass. In front of some 70,000 screaming fans, with approximately 3,000 jobs unrelated to drugs or prostitution among them, any team coming into America’s Crack Den would fear for its life.

Unless it had nine of them.

Riding a three-game winning streak, the Tar Heel Terror Squad, America’s Team, your CAROLINA PANTHERS stormed into Baltimore as underdogs, and left as the most dominant team in the NFC! Inexplicably, the Ravens went with single-coverage by their cornerbacks against the Panthers, pairing the faster Chris McAlister with WR Keyshawn Johnson and the slower Samari Rolle on WR Steve Smith. Result? Smith goes 8 for 189 and a TD, and third option Drew Carter was freed up to score the Panther’s go-ahead touchdown in the first quarter. Panthers, 10-7!

Scary moment late in the first as a sack by the Big Cat D resulted in McNair leaving the game with a sprained neck. (Not that causing injuries is ever a source of pride, but consider the fact that he’s the third quarterback in two seasons (Culpepper, Simms) that the Panthers have taken out. And we’re only 1/3 of the way through this one.)

Back-up Ravens QB Kyle Boller, the offensive equivalent of a dry hump, took over for the Ravens, which is usually the point when the opposing team’s defensive staff leaves early and watches the rest of the game from a bar. The Ravens were sputtering. One-time murder suspect LB Ray Lewis couldn’t stop QB Jake Delhomme from going 24-for-39 for 365 yards (2 TDs/2 Ints), and convicted cocaine trafficker RB Jamal Lewis was held to 9 carries for 41 yards.

But the Ravens stayed in it, thanks to not one, but two impossible tipped-then-caught passes by WR Mark Clayton which were run in for touchdowns! (Which makes sense—if Boller can’t get the ball to his own guys, just have him throw it directly at the defense. There’s no way he’ll be able to get it to them.)

Until the Nureyev of the Slant Route, Steve Smith, took a Delhomme pass 72 yards for a touchdown! Panthers up 23-14 with less than five minutes to play! A final TD drive by the Ravens made it close, but a first down by a wide-open Drew Carter sealed the deal. Panthers win! Panthers win!

Next week: Panthers at Cincinnati. Prediction:

Panthers 88, Cincinnati 27

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRR!

Week 5: Nihon Chinbotsu!

2006-10-15T11:45:00.000-05:00

The problem with cause-oriented jeans day is the inherent value judgment cast upon those who don’t wear jeans that day.

Friday morning I stopped in the doorframe of the office next to mine, leaning over like a wilted lily until I could see underneath Deb’s desk. She was wearing black slacks and heels.

Her typing came to an abrupt stop. “What are you doing?”

“Well,” I said, my tone dripping with disapproval, “looks like someone is pro breast cancer.”

“I don’t think that’s what—”

“No, the title of the email was very clear. ‘Wear Jeans on Friday to Support the Fight Against Breast Cancer.’ I think the negative implications are self-evident.”

She sighed and tilted back in her Aeron. “I know. I just didn’t feel like paying that much.”

That’s the other rip about jeans day—to wear them, you’re obligated to make a donation to the charity being feted. You have to pay someone for the privilege of wearing jeans on a day you probably would have worn them anyway. What’s next? In the middle of winter, hey, support the fight against lupus by paying for heat in your office?

“What do you mean? Isn’t it just five bucks?”

“It’s ten bucks,” she said quietly, the way one whispers the purchase price of a new home.

“TEN BUCKS?” I exclaimed.

Exactly, said her facial expression.

“Why so much?”
“I don’t know. This one came out of the New York office.”

“Why does it cost more to wear jeans in New York?”

“Cost of living maybe?”

“F@#$,” I griped. I mean, I wasn’t even _that_ opposed to breast cancer. I didn’t want to end it, just slow it down a bit. I had wondered why fewer than usual were wearing jeans this particular jeans day, and had attributed it to people simply forgetting about it. But today, wearing jeans wasn’t just a sign of support—it was conspicuous consumption, the landed elite flaunting the marginal irrelevance of ten dollars to their net wealth. The act of wearing jeans was just another bauble to be bandied about lightly by the middle class, like the latest Tod’s handbag or a Jackson Hole vacation. It was have-denims versus have-not-denims, in a race to the bottom of mutually coutured destruction.

“F@#$,” I swore again, not for lack of anything better to say, but because it was still relevant.

Deb shrugged. “Are you going to the Myers-Brigg thing today? At least we’ll get a free lunch.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” I turned to walk back to my office when a thought struck me. “If they don’t actually cure breast cancer by COB, we don’t get some sort of prorated refund. . .”

Deb narrowed her eyes at me.

“No, right? I was just—right.” I started walking back to my office.

“What are you doing now?”

“Oh, I have to buy some opera tickets for this weekend.”

Onto the game…

Who are these mystery men from Cleveland, this alleged NFL franchise with funny orange hats and morbidly obese fans? Last Sunday, they traveled to Bank of America stadium for a traditional Southern brunch of grits, biscuits, and Astroturf. Courtesy of the Growling Wall, America’s Team, your CAROLINA PANTHERS!

The most dominant defense in the league held the Cleveland mystery franchise to field goals all day. In a show of sportsmanship, they graciously allowed their guests to score the first three points of the game, but then rookie CB Richard Marshall ran back an interception for a touchdown and the route was on! Panthers up, 7-3!

(Cleveland’s coach is Romeo Crennel. The only things I know about Romeo Crennel is that he’s a former Belichick assistant and could feasibly get stuck in a hula hoop. I don’t understand all the attention paid to former Belichick assistants. To wit, Bill Belichick is 4-1 (0.800) this season, and Romeo Crennel, Eric Mangini, and Nick Saban are a combined 4-11 (0.363). The lone exception is Charlie Weis, whose team is still in the hunt for a bowl game. Which shows that the Belichick system is only successful when you have a quarterback named Brady.)

A touchdown by WR Keyshawn Johnson and a field goal by “Leg of God” K John Kasay put the Panthers up 17-3 in the third! The Cleveland mystery franchise never threatened, due largely to the dominance of MVP-front runner DE Julius Peppers. Another monster game: 1 sack, 4 solo tackles, 1 assist, 1 forced fumble and recovery! Impossible is Nothing for Peppers!

(I just looked this up: the names of Cleveland’s three professional sports teams are the Indians, the Cavaliers, and the Browns. I’ve never heard of a city running out of team names after two.)

The Big Cat D played flawlessly; the offense still had a wrinkle or two. Carolina showed horrendous third down efficiency, going 0-11, roughly the same completion rate after three attempts as Lopez on a Saturday night. But their wideout threats kept Cleveland soft in the middle, opening it up for RB Deshaun Foster to pick up 106 yards on 24 carries. Panthers defeat Cleveland mystery franchise, 20-12!

Next week:

Your Carolina Panthers travels to the Birthplace of Drivebys, Baltimore, to take on the scattershot Steve McNair and the overhyped Raven defense. Prediction:

Carolina 44, Baltimore 11

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRR!

Week 4: Open Season

2006-10-07T16:42:00.000-05:00

If I were to ever fall into the hands of the enemy, they needn’t bother breaking out the torture tactics to get me to talk. All they’d have to do is put me in a socially uncomfortable situation.

My ex-secretary was leaning against my doorframe, her posture begging me to inquire further. I tried ignoring her. I lasted less than twenty seconds.

“What’s new?”

“We found your replacement,” she said smugly.

“He sounds handsome,” I said without looking away from my monitor.

“He’s our new tax associate. He’s Indian.”

“Mm hmm,” I responded. “Don’t you have a deadline to miss?”

She was already walking back down the hall. “Oh, and one other thing,” she said, pausing for one last dramatic look over the shoulder. “His name is Anand.”

I assured her that this wasn’t of the slightest interest to me.

***
“Have you heard of this guy?” I was asking my friend Cleveland an hour later. I was pawing through his candy bowl, setting aside the pedestrian Laffy Taffys and Bit-o-Honeys for something more interesting.

“Anand? Yeah. Didn’t you read that email that went around at the end of summer?”

I focused on picking a Jolly Rancher lollipop. Cherry.

“He’s kind of weird,” said Jen, another first-year associate who had started with my doppelganger. “I was trying to make small talk with him, so I asked him where he lived, and he said Virginia. I told him I’d considered living in Virginia, but ended up in an apartment in the city. And he leaned into my face and said, ‘And paying four percent more in taxes, I see!’”

“Actually,” said Cleveland, “he sounds a lot like you.”

I left his office to go catch up on email.

***

I was busy doing research in our intranet personnel directory when my colleague Alex, of the perpetually sunny disposition, popped into my office.

“Hey!” she said. “What’s new?”

I swiveled around and took the lollipop out of my mouth. “I have a doppelganger.”

“How exciting!” she said gaily. “What flavor is it?”

Onto the game…

They appeared unbeatable coming in. The NFL hype machine had spent a full three weeks talking about how much a rejuvenated Saints franchise meant to the city of New Orleans, how much it meant for a city still trying to get its stoplights working to see a team of millionaires giving it their all for approximately three hours every week. They were unbeaten, yes. But they were also marching into Charlotte, North Carolina, home of America’s Team, the Blue Ridge Mountain Express, your CAROLINA PANTHERS!

As it turned out, New Orleans was about as prepared as FEMA for Air Carolina. After WR Keyshawn Johnson bobbled a pass, the General, QB Jake Delhomme, had the presence of mind to get his team to the line of scrimmage and throw a quick TD pass to WR Steve Smith before the refs could even react! Panthers up 7-0!

But the Panthers’ O-line, already dicey after losing OG Travelle Wharton for the season in the first game, took another hit in the second quarter, as OG Mike Wahle left with an illness. ??? An “illness”? Did he eat bad Chinese during the first quarter? Was he making out with a NO DT with laryngitis?

The Saints capitalized on the Panthers’ emotional fragility to bring it back to 10-7. But this offense has nine lives, and in the fourth, with the Saints hung up covering Smith and Johnson, Delhomme throws a four-yard TD pass to WR Drew Carter! Panthers up 14-10!

The overrated NO RB Reggie Bush came into this game with high expectations, but the Big Cat D was all over him like Mark Foley on a Senate page. Bush was held to 22 yards on 11 carries or just 2 yards per carry, about what you’d get if you handed the ball to Gheorge Muresan at the line of scrimmage and tripped him.

The Panthers’ plan was to get first downs and run out the clock. But someone didn’t tell RB Deshaun Foster! With his coaches screaming for him to go down, Foster broke away and went down—downtown, 43 yards to put the panthers up 21-10 with 1:45 left to play!

But the Saints rallied back. A long bomb from Drew Brees to rookie Marques Colston and a two-point conversion pulled them to within a field goal with 1:15 left to play! An onside kick recovery, and the Saints could tie if not win the game outright.

Enter third-string RB Nick Goings. He of the concussive hit during the conference title game that left him about as lucid as Radio. Sure, he may not be much help with sudokus these days, but one thing he can do better than anyone else is hold onto the ball.

An onside kick by the saints…recovered by the Panthers! Panthers run out the clock! Panthers win! Panthers win!!!!!

And now, for our reader mail feature:

From Reenah K, in Southeast DC:
“Yet again - oddly enough, Anant's account of the evening is entirely accurate. I'd just like to note for the record, though, that I'm wearing the infamous ‘moccasin’ shoes today (which are heels, btw) and have gotten two compliments on them already. ha HA!”

Next week: Did anyone else realize that the NFL has a franchise in Cleveland? And that it plays sixteen games? Against other NFL teams? Seriously. Apparently, the Panthers play them next week.

Prediction: Panthers 44, Cleveland mystery franchise 3

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRR!

Week 3: Fearless

2006-10-07T16:20:00.000-05:00

“You know,” said Reenah as we drove across Memorial Bridge, “I have this fear that anything I say or do is going to end up in one of your emails.” It was Saturday night, and we were driving to a reception at the Saudi Arabian embassy for the Kingdom’s ambassador to the U.S.. Shannon couldn’t get out of singing at a wedding, I needed a date, and Reenah’s plans had fallen through.

“Well, this sounds fun!” she’d said when I’d invited her. “Will there be singing and dancing?” In Reenah’s mind, gatherings of Middle Easterners resulted either in detonation or Aladdin On Ice.

“It’s a reception,” I said, “so I doubt it.”

“Will there at least be alcohol?”

“No.”

“No?!”

“It’s an Islamic country, Reenah.”

“Have I said ‘yes’ yet?”

“It’s cocktail attire,” I continued, skipping smoothly over her question. “I’m wearing a suit.” Tonight was not the night to bring sexy back.

She had a black cocktail dress ready to go. “But I have to warn you,” she said. “I banged my shins with a car door a few weeks ago, and they’re still black and blue.” We argued about wearing a longer dress for a while until we reached a compromise; she could wear the dress, but if anyone asked why her shins were bruised, she had to look quickly to the ground and stammer, “because whites should be separated from colors.”

“Hey!” she said, kissing me on the cheek as she bounded out of her house into my waiting car. I couldn’t say anything. I was staring at her feet.

“What? Look, these are the only pair of shoes I had in the house.” They looked like black moccasins, with white stitching. “They’re comfortable, okay? If you want me to wear heels, then swing by the office.”

“No, they’re fine,” I said, throwing the car into drive and continuing on. I’m sure Chippewa casual fell under the rubric of cocktail attire.

“Now remember,” I instructed. We were walking through the Kennedy Center garage, de facto garage for embassy receptions. “Once we’re inside, and I’m talking to someone, you should stand a little ways behind me, and not make direct eye contact.”

She stopped. “You’re kidding me.”

I turned back to where she stood. “Oh, it’s not an Islamic culture thing,” I quickly assured her. “More of a personal preference.”

Outside the embassy, the line for admission stretched down the sidewalk. For Persian mothers, a reception at the Saudi embassy is apparently the perfect opportunity to spruce up one’s daughter and troll her about in the hopes of landing someone connected to oil wealth. One look at Pocahontas and they knew I was a taken man.

We had our names checked off and then promptly joined the tail end of a larger line to greet the ambassador. Reenah was wearing a bright magenta shoulder wrap. It was pretty and unusual, no one else was wearing anything like it, and I passed the time convincing her it was a culturally offensive color. “Are you serious,” she whispered nervously. “Should I take this off?”

“And walk around here with bare shoulders?” I asked in mock disbelief. “Why don’t you just dribble urine on a Koran while you’re at it?”

Finally, we were one person removed from me greeting the ambassador and introducing him to my Sioux war bride. “Do me one favor,” I whispered.

“What’s that?”

“Don’t drop an hors d’oeuvre on his foot.”

Onto the game…

This past weekend featured a titanic NFC South matchup, as perennial rivals Tampa Bay and America’s Team, the Growling Wall, your CAROLINA PANTHERS met in the Penis State to determine division supremacy!. What was expected to be a battle of two hard-hitting defenses turned out to be a story of redemption. And emergency surgery.

In the first quarter, CB Chris Gamble, who had botched the trick play against Minnesota last week, redeemed himself with an interception of marked man Tampa QB Chris Simms. Then, slipping into his offense like a favorite pair of shoes, the Hannibal of the Gridiron, QB Jake Delhomme connected with WR Keyshawn Johnson. The man whom John Gruden had run out of Tampa Bay three years ago ran into the end zone for a touchdown! Panthers up 7-0!

Next target on the rifle range? WR Steve Smith, the Pro Bowl receiver who’d been out the entire preseason and the first three regular games with tweaked hamstrings, the man that some were rumbling was holding out for more money. Cha-ching! Well, two more scoring drives by Carolina! Panthers up 17-0! There hasn’t been a battle this one-sided since Steve Irwin v. stingray!

But the Bucs would battle back. Simms took advantage of three costly turnovers by the Panthers to create scoring drives. Panther DE Al “Organ Donor” Wallace took advantage of the ground to drive Simms most of the way through it. Simms would leave, vomit a lung, and then return to lead the Bucs on a scoring drive. With five minutes left to play, Bucs were up 24-23.

For a lesser team, time to close up shop. For the Panthers? Time to shine.

Delhomme marched the Panthers down the field. With less than a minute left, the Panthers had broken into Tampa Bay territory, and the chanting began, softly at first. “leg of god. leg of god.” Then louder. “Leg of God. Leg of God.” Until it was deafening! “LEG OF GOD! LEG OF GOD! LEG OF GOD!” With only seven seconds left in the game, K John Kasay, the last of the original Panthers, 3-for-3 on the day, boots one from the 46. It’s up…it’s good! Panthers win! Panthers win!

And now, the return of our reader mail feature!

From Jess T. in NYC
“I get cards ‘signed’ by my parents’ cat.”

From Archana S., in Guatelama
“Last year they said I didn’t need a card. Two or three years ago, they forgot my birthday and sent me a belated card when I guilted them into it. On my 25th birthday, my dad called to wish me a ‘Happy 24th!’”

Next week: I’ve hated the Saints ever since Katrina because of the way the NFL and ESPN have tried to make some displaced millionaires an allegory for the destruction of the city as a whole. After spending millions to reopen the Superdome while much of New Orleans still doesn’t have working water or sewage services, the Saints travel to Carolina this weekend.

Prediction: Carolina 38, New Orleans 6

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRR!

Week 2: Gridiron Gang

2006-09-23T15:09:00.000-05:00

My birthday celebration started last week when my parents sent me a card a week early and dis-invited me from our family vacation.

“For Someone Special.” The front of the card showed a wooden gazebo bench, empty but for a bluebird and a basket of flowers, in a corner of lawn jungle-like with all variety of colorful flowers. Had Someone Special ever appeared on this card, he/she had long since left, possibly due to severe allergies.

‘Wishing you all the things that make your heart happiest. Happy Birthday’ was the pre-printed message, which was supplemented as follows:

“God gave us this gift

One of the best son’s of the world (sic)

Proud to be your parents and brother.”

It was “signed” by my brother (in Boston at the time the card was mailed), my parents, and my grandmother (in India at the time the card was mailed).

“Hey,” I said that night on the phone. “I got your card.”

“Happy Birthday!” greeted my mother.

“It’s next week. The 21st. Like you have in the card.”

“I know,” she said. “We got your card when we got your brother’s.” His birthday was in July. “It was just sitting on the kitchen table, and we wanted to send it before we forgot about it.” I waited as she and my father hotly debated whether to change the channel. “I’m working on my visa application for India,” she continued.

For months now, ever since our planned June trip got canceled because of an early monsoon season, we’ve been talking about taking a trip to India. What was originally just my mother visiting her mother became me and my mother and then me and my parents and then all three of us visiting more than just my mother’s mother. The problem with being from a foreign country is that whenever you go back, you inevitably spend your entire vacation in other people’s houses. This time, we were planning to take some extra days to travel around to some of India’s most famous sites so that I could take pictures.

“Oh, good. I need to request mine at some point.”

“We’re going in October.”

“Wait, what?” Ever since we decided to reschedule, the plan has always been for the three of us to go in January. “I can’t go in October. It’s short notice for me to get that much time off from work. And even if I could, that’s in the thick of race season.” Between them, October and November have the Twin Cities, Chicago, Marine Corps, New York, and Philadelphia marathons, as well as the Knickerbocker 60K. “There’s no way I could go in October.”

“Mm hmm.” She paused, almost out of politeness. “We’re going to go in October.”

Onto the game…

Despite the dominant performance of “Leg of God” K John Kasay last week (2-for-2), there were still doubters out there with questions about the rest of the team. Can it run an offense without WR Steve Smith? Can they put pressure on quarterbacks?

Those questions were answered with a resounding “Yes!” last Sunday by Super Bowl favorites, America’s Team, the Tar Heel Terror Squad, your CAROLINA PANTHERS, at the expense of the hapless Vikings! In front of a pasty crowd of Minnesotans, the most complete team in the NFL went to work with clockwork precision, trading field goals with the Vikes to trail 6-3 in the second. By Odin! The Vikings defense was tenacious? Approaching the half, what could our protagonists possibly do?

QB Jake Delhomme went to the sidelines. And dialed ‘H’…for Hero.

WR Keyshawn Johnson with an amazing catch and a 40-yard run! Like the hammer of Thor, Panthers pressing on offense! 3-yard run by rookie RB Deangelo “Brown Sugar” Williams for a TD! Panthers up 10-6!

You know how, occasionally in life, you and a colleague can miscommunicate? Take, for example, something as simple as Rosh Hashannah seder this past Friday. Friday afternoon, I was walking with one of our senior legal assistants, Greg, to happy hour.

“Pretty dead around here,” I noted. “One Jew holiday and this whole place clears out.”

“Yeah, a lot of people left this afternoon.”

“Why is that exactly?” I asked. I waved my keycard in front of the door and held it open for him.

“Thanks. I think they have to be indoors by sundown.”

We walked down the stairs to the café in silence.

“You’re thinking of vampires,” I said.

With the Panthers up 13-6 in the fourth, the wily John Fox went aggressive, calling for a trick play. On the kickoff reception, CB Chris Gamble was supposed to pitch it back to CB Richard Marshall, but an errant toss gave the Vikings favorable field position! Touchdown, Vikings!

In overtime, the Vikings kicked a field goal to win. But the real story of the game was the phenomenal play of DE Julius Peppers. With five (!) sacks and a blocked field goal, the Vikings had no answer for the Obsidian Dervish, and were lucky to leave the game without being beaten more badly than they were!

Next week: With the winner of Atlanta-New Orleans taking a 3-0 lead in the NFC South, the loser of the Carolina-Tampa Bay matchup is likely out of the playoffs this year. Last time they were down there, Panthers cheerleaders got drunk in a bar, punched a local in the face, had sex with each other in a bathroom stall, and ended up facing criminal charges. Not unlike this past week’s game, where the Panthers’ smashmouth style was undone by their screwing themselves over. Prediction? The NFL’s first-ever 100-point game!

Panthers 103, Tampa Bay 26

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRR!

Week 1: Invincible

2006-09-16T20:39:00.000-05:00

I tuned into the premiere episode of the controversial new season of “Survivor,” the one where the tribes are initially separated by race. When news of the setup first leaked last month, liberals were up in arms.

Aren’t you offended?, they asked me, bristling with righteous indignation. This is racist!

How is this racist? It’s not racist if they’re treated equally. It’s racist if they give the black people fried chicken, the Asians calculators, the Latinos a low-rider, and the white people a Gap.

I’m happy to say that this week, the Asians won! I was a little worried when the first half of the immunity challenge required physical exertion, but knew that it was ours when the second half turned out to be a puzzle.

Spoiler Alert: figured out the mid-season twist. One of the women on Team Honky is named Parvati. “Parvati”? The Hindu goddess of love, Parvati? Is there a double agent inside the house that crackers built?!

Onto the game…

The NFL kicked off its opening weekend with Michael Vick and the Falcons traveling to Tar Heel Country to take on the Growling Wall, America’s Team, your CAROLINA PANTHERS, in a battle of NFC South titans! The Falcons quickly found themselves overmatched, as “Leg of God” K John Kasay put on a kicking clinic for the raucous hometown crowd. Going two-for-two for six points, Kasay dominated the Dirty Birds from inside the hash marks, leaving them to savor the salty broth of Failure.

It was the stuff between the field goals that gave the Panthers problems.

Like the Acela, WR Steve Smith was both incredibly fast and out of service for the game. The Panthers were dealt another blow early on when LT Travelle Wharton went out with a broken ankle in the second quarter. After that, the Panthers’ offensive line went down like a Lynyrd Skynyrd flight. After the game, Atlanta DE John Abraham was charged with assault and battery. The victim? Carolina QB Jake Delhomme. Sure, Pro Bowl pass rusher Abraham took advantage of Carolina’s re-shuffled O-line to sack Delhomme twice and force two fumbles, but who wants a cheap victory like that? That’s like mugging a kid having an epileptic seizure. If that was how the Falcons wanted to play, then let the baby have his bottle, I say.

Oh, and what would a Panthers game be without another Dan Morgan concussion? I give him two more shots like that before he turns into the guy from “Memento.” Atlanta over Carolina, 20-6.

After the game, I went to commiserate with fellow Carolinians on the charlotte.com message boards.

“This is one man offense team. Delhomme eats too much Bojangles.”

[I don’t even know what this means, but I already like him more than Kornheiser.]

“It is time for Delhomme to be benched.”

[Umm…did you read my column last week? What’s your plan after you bench Delhomme? Start Weinke?]

The nice thing about NFC South message boards is that fans of our division rivals will leave messages too. A sample:

“Boy you guys are really bad, everyone picking you to win the Super Bowl and you can’t beat Atlanta. Panthers suck.”

“Hey, the Panthers can still make it to the Super Bowl…if they go ahead and buy their tickets now.”

“Ha ha Jacksonville won their opener ha ha ‘pampers’”

Absorbing their jeers, I sat there, now knowing how to assess Carolina’s performance, until it came to me in a flash of insight: absolutely brilliant. An opponent that can throw the ball and rush the passer? Humdrum. An opponent that can toy with a team for four quarters and drop field goals on them at will, practically mocking the effort the other team has to put in just to keep pace with them? Psychologically devastating. Hats off to another brilliant play call by the Stephen Hawking of the 3-4, Coach John Fox.

Next week, the Panthers travel to Minnesota to play Freddy Smoot and the Vikings.

Prediction: Carolina 52, Minnesota 4.

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRR!

'06 Season Preview: Return to Greatness

2006-09-04T19:07:00.000-05:00

As might have been expended, Ernesto, having expended considerable energy leaving Cuba and crossing the Atlantic, finally made it to American soil and promptly stopped working. It still managed to wet our weekend with heavy rains, and so I ended up staying in Saturday night and watching “Memoirs of A Geisha.” (We had rented it for Thursday night, but got swept up into Agassi-Bagdhatis, easily the most dramatic tennis match I’ve ever watched.)

“Memoirs” (or, as I like to refer to it, “Catty Bitches in Japan”) was one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen. I’ve seen bad low-budget movies, but the budget and starpower of this movie made it that much worse. Why was it so bad? Where to begin. First, all of the leads, with the exception of Ken Watanabe, were Chinese. Because the producers thought that would be slanty enough for an American audience. Think about how insulting this is. It would be like casting “Schindler’s List” with Puerto Ricans. Second, instead of shooting the dialogue for a movie about Japanese people in Japan in actual Japanese, the producers decide to shoot it in English. But not conversational English; in an effort to be “authentic,” they shot it in heavily accented English. Correction: they shot a bunch of Chinese people doing bad impersonations of Japanese people trying to speak English! Next, the dialogue is terrible. The geisha Sayuri (played by Zhang Zhiyi) is renowned for her wit and reportedly able to win over anyone with her elocution and charm. But all of her lines come from fortune cookies for retards. In one pivotal scene, she’s with a commercial tycoon (Nobu-san) at a sumo match, and asks him about sumo wrestling. Disdainful of geishas, Nobu-san says something like, “What do you care? All geishas are interested in is dancing.” Her clever and endearing comeback? “Nobu-san, isn’t-a bus-ah-ness nothing more than-a tew company dancing around each oder?” And he was blown away by her answer, as though it was the most insightful comment he’d ever heard! (Secretly, I was hoping he’d say something like, “Ah, no, bus-ah-ness is rike excer spreadsheets and determining-a weighted-a average cost ur capiterr.”)

The worst part is, the movie is about the decline of the art of the geisha in the face of modernism, yet it never makes a case for why geishas are important. All I learned from the movie is that geishas had self-created a niche market for themselves that added nothing of value to society. It was like watching a movie about the last of the bathroom attendants. In what I’m sure was intended to be an oscar clip for the movie, an older geisha explains to Sayuri that geishas don’t have the luxury of loving any one person. And I was yelling at the t.v., “What is so great about this career choice? Why not open a sake shop, so that you can earn a living and bang someone you like?” Towards the end, I was cheering for industrialization.

Onto the new season…

When we last saw our heroes, an exhausted-looking franchise was limping off the field in Seattle in defeat. “FINISHED!” sang the New York Post. “BOLLOXED!” trumpeted the Times of London. “LAISSEZ-FAIRE!” sniffed Le Monde. Were experts the world over right? Would this be the swan song for the most dominant team in NFL history?

Or could it possibly be just the first half of an ingenious strategy two-year strategy to win the Super Bowl? Crazy, you say? Crazy…like a fox?

Let’s look at how Coach Fox improved the Growling Wall during the intermission of his two-act masterpiece.

Wide Receiver

Keyshawn Johnson—with the addition of “Szechuan,” the Panthers have added a second passing threat to take the pressure off of the Nureyev of the Slant Route, WR Steve Smith, and avoid the bizarre 10-on-1 coverage that shut him down during last year’s NFC Championship.

Defensive Line

Poor people draw comfort from the thought that money can’t buy happiness. In truth, not only can money buy all sorts of happiness, but money also has the added benefit of taking that happiness away from someone else. In one of the biggest coups of the offseasons, the Panthers signed 6-5/350 DT Maake “The Buffet Killer” Kemoeatu away from the Ravens. Alongside a healthy 6-4/335 DT Kris Jenkins, teams will have an easier time getting a donut past Greg Gumble than running up the middle on the Panthers.

Quarterback

This past Saturday, the Panthers cut their number three and four QBs, Stefan LaFors and Brett Basanez. ??? Who the heck are these guys? Do you realize we’re one cheap Kimo von Oelhoffen hit away from a Chris Weinke start? It didn’t have to be like this. Jeff Garcia was available. Kerry Collins was available. You don’t think these guys would consider joining a team with a shot at the Super Bowl? Even Billy Volek is available.

(Actually, I’d love to sit in on that phone call.

Panthers: We really think you have the potential to be a starting quarterback.

Volek: Really?! Wow!

Panthers: We’d love to fly you down to Charlotte for a workout.

Volek: Oh wow, are you serious?

Panthers: This is Matt Schaub, right?

Volek: No, this is…this is Billy Volek.

Panthers (giggling): Oh, sorry. >click<)

Not everything worked out as planned.

And then there were the accusations of steroid use (despite the fact that no Panthers in 2003 or since have tested positive for steroids!). Concerned, I conducted my own exhaustive impartial investigation, and uncovered two startling facts. One, the source of these spurious rumors was the Falcons’ front office! And the offending substance? Nothing more than a bad case of grits That's right, good old-fashioned grits! Who knew?!

Well, I’m glad we can put that issue to bed. Onto the preseason…

The most beloved franchise in professional sports history, America’s Team, your CAROLINA PANTHERS were, in a word, immaculate. In a level of perfection never seen outside of the Book of Genesis, the Tar Heel Terror Squad went four and oh. From Keyshawn’s dazzling performance in Week 1 to rookie RB Deangelo Williams 98-yd kickoff return in Week 3 to K John Kasay’s flawless outing (5-of-5) in Week 4, the Panthers left little doubt, that, once again, the Road to the Super Bowl takes Exit 1D off of I-277.

The table has been set. The Cats are pacing their cages.

It’s time to unleash hell.

NEXT WEEK: The Panthers kick off the first week of the NFL season by hosting the Atlanta Felons.

Prediction: Carolina 68, Atlanta 7

(and remember, keep that reader mail coming)

Until next time.

RROWRRRRRRRR!

Week 20: Last Holiday

2006-02-05T23:04:00.000-05:00

The crazy secretary across from me has an uncanny ability to find leftover food. If there were a way to tag al qaida transmissions with cake, she would eliminate the need for a department of homeland security. On Thursday, I went on a date with a local badminton champion. It started
off poorly, but it turned out well after I got us some drinks. btw, if you've never been, I recommend zengo's. it won't fill you up, but really good food (Jap-Lat), terrific atmosphere.

the icebreakers were key. she's really into animals (she loves the baby panda, Tai Shan), and wants to volunteer at the National Zoo.

Me: "Have you seen 'March of the Penguins?'"
Emily: "I absolutely loved it!"
Me: "Here's my question..."
Emily: "Okay."
Me: "...and maybe they answer it on the DVD. But, during the course of filming, how many penguins..."
Emily: "Uh huh."
Me: "...did the producers eat?"

Had I pulled Tai Shan out of my bag and twisted his neck in front of her, her expression would have been the same.

Onto the game...

From the preseason Sports Illustrated cover, the expectations were set high. "Super Bowl XL: Panthers-Colts." Last Sunday, everybody's favorite underdogs, the Tenacious Tar Heels, your CAROLINA PANTHERS entered Seattle one game away from their destiny. Not since Alexander the Great had an invading force seemed more imposing. Not since Mayans v. Malaria had a fight been more one-sided. The Panthers arrived on Sunday with more heart than health. Demonic DE Julius Peppers was playing with a separated shoulder. RB DeShaun Foster (talent-wise, the hot chick in the bar at 11 pm) had snapped his ankle in Chicago, leaving John Fox no choice but to start third-string RB Nick Goings (talent-wise, the drunk chick still in the bar at 2:30 am).

With evil billionaire-owner Paul Allen cackling in binary code on the sideline, Carolina started its third conference championship game in its eleven-year history. The Seattle fans stood quietly sipping their mocha soy lattes, dressed in the jeans they paid a premium to look weathered and
ripped. Seattle's game plan was simple: put 36 guys on WR Steve Smith and take their chances on the run. From the outset, the mighty Panthers, whose last three game had effectively
been must-win away games, (and who had to play an extra game while Seattle rested) looked average. "Windows Error 404: Receiver not found!" The always-reliable QB Jake Delhomme was getting hurried in the pocket, and with a mosh pit around Smith, couldn't find anyone to throw to. Tragedy! Late in the first, RB Nick Goings collided with midget dervish ML Lofa Tatupu the way a crash test dummy collides with a steering wheel. Despite insisting that he was fine to "keep bowling," the concussed Goings was yanked and replaced with the fourth-string RB, backup equipment manager Jamal Robertson! Meanwhile, QB Matt Hasselbeck had racked up a cool 10 points by the end of the first. "Go Ichiro!" screamed the fans when their iPod
playlists finished.

"Windows Error 623: Team not responding!" Enter Steve Smith. Frustrated on offense, the plucky young speedster demanded the ball on the next punt, running it in for a score! Touchdown, Panthers! But regrettably, that would be the high point of the game for our heroes. With few receiver options and a running back who thirty minutes earlier had been scrubbing
jockstraps, Delhomme began making riskier passes, resulting in three turnovers. Normally reliable P Jason Baker clipped balls short, and Carolina's fabled cornerback tandem of Gamble and Lucas were getting beaten on coverage. Seattle continued downloading points behind RB Shaun Alexander, and in the end, it would be the progenitors of suburban angst who
eventually triumphed, 34-14.

People ask me, so how do you feel? Honestly? I really wanted them to win. And I'm not one of those people who goes around saying "we" and "us," I know it's just a sport, and I know they're a bunch of millionaires that I'll probably never interact with in my life. But still. For them, for
everybody back home--I really really really wanted them to win.

But I have to look at the bright side.

At least I'm not a Colts fan.

So, have the Brothers Hasselbeck replaced the Brothers Manning who replaced the Brothers Barber as football's most talented (active) family? Let's compare. Matt Hasselbeck has quarterbacked his team into the Super Bowl; Peyton has never made it to a conference game. Advantage: Hasselbeck. Tim and Matt's hairlines have been playing deep since their early twenties; Peyton and Eli sound like retarded donkeys. Advantage: Hasselbeck. Younger brother Eli couldn't score once in his first playoff game; younger brother Tim scores with Elizabeth Filarski every night. Advantage: Hasselbeck.

Now that it's over, perhaps the best way to express what we're all feeling right now is through a musical montage.

"It must have been cold there in my shadow/to never have sunlight on your face..."

Whatcha cookin', mama? Tough to say, because the Carolina D is all up in Willis McGahee's kitchen!

"..You were content to let me shine (that's your way)/You always walked a step behind..."

Why, 2000 Heisman Trophy winner Chris Weinke! It's throwback time in the Silverdome! The ageless Ricky Proehl is in at WR! Hogan slams Andre! Weinke's last seven passes are all to Ricky Proehl! We haven't seen this kind of chemistry since Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon!

"...So I was the one with all the glory/while you were the one with all the strength..."

Panthers' next possession, Delhomme looked for his favorite target, Nathan Vasher. A perfect pass to Vasher! The Bears defense hasn't seen this much action since Paris Hilton dumped Brian Urlacher!

"...A beautiful face without a name (for so long)/A beautiful smile to hide the pain..."

Smashmouth tackle by Ricky Manning results in a fumble. We had them at hello! Next Jets possession. Bollinger to McCareins intercepted by CB Chris Gamble! McCareins' head weighs eight pounds!

"...Did you ever know that you're my hero?..."

What did John Gruden tell his team at halftime? I don't know. It probably wasn't, "Hey, let CB Chris Gamble intercept you during our first possession and run it back for 61 yards." Which is what he did.

"...and everything I would like to be?..."

On Ericsson field there arose such a clatter! The Panthers were serving whoop-ass on a platter! Five sacks and two picks, the Panthers are rising! It's Carolina's world, so screw you, Theisman!

"...I can fly higher than an eagle..."
'I threw up twice after seeing his topless photos.' 'You have a stomach of iron. I only made it past the first topless photo.'

"...for you are the wind beneath my wings."

Until next year.

Rrowrrr!

Week 19: Glory Road

2006-01-21T16:33:00.000-05:00

I'm going to skip the intro and cut right to the post-game analysis by the second biggest football fan in the household, my mother, delivered two minutes after the game ended.

Mom: "We're going to Seattle!"
Me: "I know, can you believe it?"
Mom: "That Steve Smith, no one can catch him!...he's so fast...and so short...that Groxman [Ed: Rex Grossman] needs more practice..."
Dad (in background): "When do I get to talk?"
Mom: "...I thought when it was only two or three points that Chicago would win, but that Del Hom [Ed: my mother believes every syllable in the name 'Jake Delhomme' deserves equal emphasis] brought them back!...here, talk to Daddy."
Me: "Okay."
Mom: "Oh, and one more thing."
Me: "Yes?"
Mom: "Those Patriots are junk."

Random weekend thoughts:

Second Most Retarded Football Commentary
Joe Buck: "A HUGE three-and-out for the Bears [defense]!"
Time? Less than four minutes into the first quarter.

Most Retarded Football Commentary
CBS Broadcaster: "...when Pittsburgh jumped out to a seemingly omnipotent 14-0 lead..."

Most Brokeback Moment
Shot of Delhomme talking with coaches on sideline
Aikman: "He's a beauty, isn't he? All smiles."

Just once, and I'm not saying all the time, but just once, don't you wish you could have a day like Jack Bauer?

After the Steelers sacked Manning at the 2 with under three minutes to play, I called and left Mike a vm. "Congratulations, man!" I told him. "I can't believe the Steelers won!" Then I go into the other room and check my email. I come out and Peyton is throwing a touchdown pass to Reggie Wayne, and I'm just standing there with a dumbfounded, Steve Bartman-like expression. Not as bad, though, as the Panthers-Pats Super Bowl two years ago. During halftime, I whipped up a fresh round of drinks for the room. "Who wants margaritas?" I sang. Silence. No one was even looking in my direction. I tried again. "Who wants...Pantheritas?!!" Again, nothing. Everyone looked shellshocked. I came around the kitchen to see what
everyone was staring at.
Dave: "Was that...Janet Jackson's boob?"

I can understand why Fox could only get B- and C-list stars for "Skating With Celebrities," but who the hell is this skater 'Tai Babylonia'? You're telling me they couldn't come up six legit skaters with name recognition without trying to foist onto us a woman who is clearly either a stripper or a porn star ("Saving Ryan's Privates" starring 'Tai Babylonia'!)?

Onto the game. . .
In their previous outing, the Chicago Bears had drubbed the mighty Panthers, 13-3. QB Jake Delhomme had been sacked eight times. And now they were fielding a quarterback who could create even more threats on offense. They were playing at home. On one week's rest. No chance, said the experts. How can the Panthers possibly prevail?

It took WR Steve Smith exactly two plays to answer that question! On the second play of the game, the Cajun Hannibal, QB Jake Delhomme arced a high one to Smith, who ran it past three of Chicago's vaunted defenders for the touchdown! Barely a minute gone by, and the Panthers are up 7-0!

Tremendous punting by P Jason Baker kept pinning the Bears deep within their own territory, and Chicago's masterful play-calling ("Just keep throwing the ball as far as you can, and let's see how it plays out"), combined with lights-out defense from the Growling Wall kept the Bears scoreless for most of the first half. (This despite a dubious bit of officiating robbing DE Julius Peppers of a clear INT runback for a TD, but, all in all, it was an abysmal weekend for NFL officiating.)

To understand how ferocious Carolina was during the first half, you needed to watch Baker. On one play, he punted _and_ busted the wedge on the Bears' return team! According to Dr. Timothy Gay, author of "The Physics of Football," wedgebusters (the guys who run full-speed and break up the blocking wall on a punt return) hit a 3-man wall at a speed of about 10 yards/sec and feel a force on contact of about 2,400 pounds. According to Gay, that's the equivalent of "what he'd feel if he did a bellyflop onto a boardwalk from a height of 20 feet." And this is by a guy who expects to get hit during a season about as often as Latrell Sprewell's coach.

But then a strange thing happened. Grossman, with his rifle of an arm and well-plucked eyebrows, grew gradually more confident, leading the Bears on a referee-aided TD drive. By halftime, the score was 16-7, but the crowd was roaring, and the tide seemed to have turned.

(btw, don't you wish you could listen to whatever Kyle Orton would say to him whenever Grossman went to the sidelines? "Hey, you know that thing you did where the ball actually got to the receiver? That was pretty cool. Can you spot me twenty bucks?")

By the time Grossman brought them to within two in the third, it seemed as if the prognosticators had been right all along. Perhaps this wasn't the Panthers' day after all.

Two words: Steve Smith.

Delhomme to Smith in single coverage! Thirty-nine yards for a touchdown! Panthers up 23-14! But the Bears hung on. After RB DeShaun Foster went out with a broken ankle, the game turned into an offensive shootout, touchdowns trading back and forth. With less than five minutes to play, Bears down by eight, Grossman was leading a game-tying drive when--interception! Interception by the unheralded--you know, I really can't keep calling CB Ken
Lucas unheralded now that cnnsi.com ranked him the second biggest impact free agent acquisition last offseason (behind WR Plaxico Burress of the Giants). So let me say this--it's nice to see my man get some well-deserved props. Interception by Lucas! Minutes later, it's over! Smith finished with a career day, 12 catches for 218 yards, 4th all-time in the playoffs! Panthers advance to the NFC Championship game for the third time in their 11-year history!

Reader mail feature:

From Robin, wife of Steelers fan Mike Y., regarding Mike on Sunday:
"There was a lot of yelling, throwing things, and conspiracy theories."

From Kelly H., in Scituate, MA:
"The Rulon Gardner-John Kitna comparison is so accurate, it's frightening...am studying for the Mass Bar...and all the teachers are the same....I will now light myself on fire."

Onto Seattle. The extra week of playing has caught up with the Panthers in the form of injuries. Foster, showing the resilience of IKEA furniture, is out with a broken ankle. Peppers separated his shoulder. DT Kindal Moorehead (DT Brenston Buckner's relief) is questionable. On the other
hand, one of the Seahawk defensive linemen, who celebrated Sunday night by punching his girlfriend, is out of jail and will be playing. And their running back, Shaun Alexander (kind of a minor-media-market version of Tiki Barber), who was severely concussed on Saturday and currently has the mental acuity of Radio, will be playing on Sunday. Where's the cosmic justice in that?

But here's the difference-maker. Lucas will want to have a monster day against his former team. I don't necessarily expect Carolina's CBs to make interceptions, Hasselbeck's a terrific QB. But Lucas and CB Chris Gamble are good enough to stay in single coverage, freeing up the safeties to play closer to the line of scrimmage. Look for big plays from S Marlon McCree
and S Mike Minter. Panthers advance to the Super Bowl.

Until next time.

Rrowrrr!

Week 18: Fun With Steve and Jake

2006-01-14T15:45:00.000-05:00

(not much of an intro today, but wait until the reader mail feature)

There was this article yesterday about a rise in hermaphroditism in polar bears. Scientists claim that the presence of both sets of sexual organs is a direct result of increasing pollution of the arctic environment.

So these bears have to endure a little teasing growing up. Big deal. What do you want me to do, drive a Prius?

Onto the game. . .

This past weekend was wildcard weekend in the NFL, the first round of playoff action on the road to the Super Bowl! What I saw:

Patriots-Jaguars: QB Byron Leftwich wins the 2005 Fuamatu-Ma'afala Award for Player With Most Promising Second Career on the Professional Eating Circuit.

Redskins-Buccaneers: text of my email to dave and mike at end of first quarter--"washington has half as many first downs, fewer total yards, fewer passing yards, fewer rushing yards, fewer plays, more penalties, and 1/3 tampa's time of possession. yet they're leading 14-3."

Steelers-Bengals: I came in midway through the first quarter and Rulon Gardner was playing quarterback for Cincinnati.

Panthers-Giants: coming off a woodshed thrashing of the Falcons, many speculated that the Panthers had overspent themselves. Many thought it would be a different story against Eli, Tiki, and Michael Strahan. Many were wrong. Coach Fox's game plan was simple yet brilliant: with the Giants weak at the linebacker spot (and losing one of their starters early in the game), establish a consistent running game, use Steve Smith to prevent stacking at the line of scrimmage, and let the Tar Heel Terror Squad hurry the rookie meat QB.

The key to the running game? A move first developed by your intrepid author. On the flag football circuit, it's called the "PF Twist." You spin in the direction of your pursuer's momentum at the last second, just as he's trying to wrap his arms around you, in effect rolling off of him while letting his weight carry him forward. When used correctly, it's unstoppable.

Using the PF Twist, RB DeShaun Foster uncorked a ground assault on the Giants. But it was the Palmetto Lightning Bolt, WR Steve Smith, left inexplicably in one-on-one coverage, who scored from the 22 for the first points of the game. Panthers lead, 7-0! With the half drawing to a close, and the New York fans merely listless, the Giants gave them something to boo about, whiffing a punt reception inside the Giant's half of the field with time on the clock. One K John Kasay kick later, halftime score, 10-0 Panthers!

The Giants' halftime adjustment ("let's not suck so much this time") failed to materialize. In the third came the game's turning point. With the Giants finally rallying, low-profile/high-impact free agent acquisition CB Ken Lucas picks him off, setting up Smith for a touchdown one play later! Panthers up 17-0! S Marlon McCree picked off Manning twice more, leading to a 23-0 Panthers victory. Gotta love how the '05 RB Tiki Barber is about as discrete about having post-career ambitions as the '04 Spitzer, going as far as saying they had been "out-coached."

Reader mail feature:

Last week's email generated more responses than any other email in your esteemed writer's memory.

first, from Robin, wife of Steelers fan Mike Y. in Kansas:
"He was terrible! Jumping up and down, screaming about calls. He was tense whenever the Steelers had the ball, or when the other guys (I forget already who they played) were close to scoring - which was pretty often that first quarter. He thinks that if he doesn't breathe or pulls his t-shirt up over his mouth that good things will happen for the Steelers. Or, (and I'm not kidding about this) when the Steelers needed a change of pace, he turned on the lights. I'm surprised he didn't get out the terrible towel and wave it around. Yes, he has done that before, as if that helps distract the other team through the television. And the worst part of it is that we'll have to go through it again this Sunday."

onto the pictures. from Arch S. in Palo Alto:
"I think it would be a great idea. One of my friends back home got his nipples pierced and it was hot. He was straight as an arrow."

from Jessica T., in NYC:
"For crying out loud, don't you EVER wear a shirt?!?!?"

It was a big week for "EVER"
from Brian B. in NYC:
"Oh I've got some reader mail for you. (a) Don't EVER (in the sense of "ever") send me shirtless pictures of yourself, EVER again. Understand? (b) But with respect to the belly button ring, sure, go ahead. As long as you follow it up by immediately killing yourself."

I'm going to count that one as "pro-piercing."

from Al R., in his parents' basement:
"I threw up twice after seeing the topless photos."

from M. Lo, in South Beach:
"You have a stomach of iron. I only made it past the first topless photo."

from Mary C. in St. Lou-eee:
"let me add to the conversation about relationships. remember when you took that girl to the dance at HLS? at the end of the night you said something to the effect of: 'want to spend the night?' ok. ok. nothing wrong with asking. and then you explained yourself: 'because I don't feel like walking you home.' classy."

This weekend: Last time they met, the Chicago Bears sacked Delhomme eight times en route to a 13-3 victory that solidified their status as an NFC contender. G Mike Wahle: "We weren't prepared for the ferocity of the Chicago defense." The Chicago D looks tired. Rex Grossman has played about as many NFL games as Maurice Clarett. And the Panthers are coming off of successive dominating performances. Who's looking ferocious now?

Until next time.

Rrowrrr!

Week 17: Memoirs of a Cajun

2006-01-08T22:13:00.000-05:00

I was explaining my theory on New Year's resolutions to Anne. I don't make them, I said. I'm always trying to improve myself, so I don't like to limit it to a single day out of the year.

Me: But I guess if I had to pick one area where I need a lot of improvement, it would be relationships. I just don't seem to be very good at them.
Anne: Mm-hmm. Your female relationships?
Me: No, Anne, my GAY relationships.

Why is that? Well, it could be any number of things.

Diana: Look at the pretty shell I found on the beach.
Anant: You know what you can do with those? You get a wide earthenware bowl, fill it with glass pebbles, put the shells on top them, then fill it with water. It's a great display for floating candles. I did that with some shells I picked up at Cape Cod.
Diana: (pause). You know, you might want to tone down the Martha Stewart a
little.

But there are a number of changes I've been considering recently. The one I'm most intrigued by is a belly button ring. Unfortunately, 100 percent of the female friends I've polled thus far have said that it would look "very gay."* (*technically, two of the responses were "god, you're an idiot" and "you are _so_ retarded," which, for the purposes of this poll, are being tallied as "gay")

Anne: Name one heterosexual male with a navel ring.
Me: Lenny Kravitz.
Anne: Okay, name two.

Although people seem to be coming around to the idea.

Reenah: It's just not--how can we put this--you.
Diana: Maybe if Brooks Brothers carried a selection.

Navel rings: the new ascot.

So that's why I'm opening it up to a larger audience. We are standing on the threshold of fashion's vanguard, people. I firmly believe I can bring the belly button ring back into the ranks of the breeders. And it won't stop there--it's going to be the theme of my coming year.

2006: Hetero Again

Onto the game. . .

It was do or die for the Panthers. In an eery parallel to the season prior, their season came down to their final game. Win, and they were in the playoffs. Lose, and they were at the mercy of destiny. Last year, New Orleans, a team with nothing to play for at that point, came into Carolina and played spoiler. This year, America's Team traveled to face Atlanta, which similarly had nothing to play for. Would history repeat itself?

Yes, if the history you're referring to is William Tecumseh Sherman! The Panthers' General, QB Jake Delhomme, marched his team down the field on the very first drive. How impressive was he? Even his butt popped out to take a look. After having his pants taped up on the sideline, 12-yd pass to WR Ricky Proehl--touchdown! Panthers up 7-0. Towards the end of the first quarter, RB DeShaun Foster set a team record with a 70-yd run for a touchdown! Who's record did he beat? That's right, Timmy Biakabutuka, the rootin-est, tootin-est, biakabutuk-inest running back in Panther history!

The second quarter was all Panthers--two John Kasay kicks and one Steve Smith TD later, the Panthers went into halftime with a 27-3 lead.

Jim Mora has black-on-black eyes. It's some kind of birthmark of pure evil. Tom Brokaw and Jim Lehrer have the same thing.

In a brilliant maneuver, the Falcons switched to a just-pick-a-guy defense for the second half. By the end of the third, the Panthers were up 37-3. Vick had only one carry for zero yards rushing. Screw you Theismann, screw you! Ceding a TD in garbage time, the Panthers left the Falcons embittered, demoralized, and mangled, 44-11. After a one-year absence, your CAROLINA PANTHERS are headed to the playoffs!

End of season thoughts:
-Why did espn.com give the game ball for this game to Brett Favre?
(http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/recap?gameId=260101001)
-I had thought that Joe Theismann was the worst football commentator I'd ever heard until I heard Sterling Sharpe.
-Dave, Mike and I watched the BCS game at Bailey's in Ballston. I don't know when breast implants became popular among college girls, but God Bless Texas.
-Why does every football commentator feel compelled to explain the "challenge rule" every time a play is under review, yet won't bother with any number of confusing penalties?
-Who would win an arm-wrestling contest between Tony Little and Ed Hochuli?

This Sunday:
NFC Wild Card matchup. Carolina Panthers at New York Giants. Can the Giants do what no defense has done this year and stop Steve Smith? Can the Panthers, with run-stuffer DT Kris Jenkins out for the season and LB Dan Morgan always semi-injured stop RB Tiki Barber? Can Eli Manning ever look fully awake? My prediction: CB Ken Lucas is the X factor. Panthers
advance! You better pray this Saturday night, because we play on Sunday! Until next time!

Rrowrrr!

Week 16: Chronicles of Trickeration!

2006-01-01T18:52:00.000-05:00

I spent Christmas back home, six days to re-bond with family and revel in holiday festivities. Typically when I go home, my mother will designate a random mug for serving me tea for the duration of my stay. This last one is my favorite. Instead of advertising a medication for some disgusting genitourinary disease, it was a gift from a patient that said, on both sides in big block type, "CLASSY LADY."

I also experienced six days' worth of my mother's bon mots, among them:

On Pope Benedict XVI:
"At least [Pope John Paul II] was handsome. This one looks ready to die."

On the poor:
"You know that the government pays the heating bills for welfare recipients? So they just stay at home and turn their heat all the way up. That's a nice life."

On New Orleans:
"People ask me, what are you going to donate for Hurricane Katrina relief? And I say, not a penny. Let them work."

My parents approach the gift-giving season with a Tetris-like mentality of netting out the least accumulation. By the time I went home, they had already passed along the popcorn tins and fruitcakes (while saving, on express instruction from my brother and myself, the Ghirardelli and Godiva). All that was left for us to open on Christmas morning was a bag containing five resents. My mother had somehow misplaced the labels. I declared that whatever you unwrapped was yours. I ended up with a nice set of tealights. My mother got a wine glass. My father received a sixteen-month hummingbird calendar.

Our home exists in some weird land before time, lacking cable (ultimately they declined our gift), internet service, or blackberry reception. With a couple of video cameras, it could be "Frontier House" on PBS. In order to check my email, I would take one of my parent's cars after they had gone to sleep, drive out of our neighborhood, past the velociraptors, to the place in the county where my signal was strongest: the Wal-Mart parking lot.

(You may wonder, is it safe being out at two o'clock in the morning? Most people in town know my parents, and the only danger is in being recognized and trapped in an hour-long coversation. Patients always ask my parents about me and my brother, except now instead of being the one wanting to go to medical school, my brother is now the one on the teaching faculty at Harvard, and instead of being the one who wins the spelling bees, I'm now the one who cruises the Wal-Mart parking lot for gay prostitutes at two in the morning.)

Every year, we see wild rabbits running through our yard, every year, my mother reminisces about a red fox that used to live in the area and hunt them down, every year I start pounding my chest and declaring that this is "the big one," and every year, it goes right over my mother's head. Priceless.

'Who's taking care of your birds while you're away?' they asked (I've raised a pigeon ever since I discovered a nest on my porch this spring.). 'It's only the male,' I said, 'and I've trained him to find alternate food sources. The female flew away when she got big enough.' 'Why is that?' they asked. 'Oh, you know how women are," I told them. 'As soon as they find a man with his own place, they want to move in and start a family.' They didn't ask me much about my dating life this time around.

As some of my long-term readers know, I always try to take new music home with me. My parents enjoy it. Last year I discovered they really got into the Santana I left behind. Not the new duets stuff. Classic Carlos Santana. We spent the entire hour driving back from the airport listening to "Evil Ways" and "Black Magic Woman." Over and over again. I half-expected the house to smell like pot.

This time, I took my guitar and a bunch of music on my iPod. My father is a tabla player, a kind of Indian congo drum (think percussion in "Get Ur Freak On"), and I thought it would be fun to finally jam together. We went through the Counting Crows ("Rain King"), the Cranberries ("Linger"), Creedence ("Bad Moon Rising"), Allman Brothers ("Blue Sky"), Simon & Garfunkel ("Cecilia," or what I now realize may be the three most boring minutes ever written for a percussionist) and others, but where I thought we really tore down the house was Wyclef ("(If I Was) President"). After ripping through the final riff, I looked exultantly over at my father. His
take? "You haven't stopped playing the piano, have you?"

But I didn't say anything. Above all else, I am a Classy Lady.

Onto the game. . .

The only thing worth watching on ESPN's pre-game show is the announcers trying to pretend that they get Kenny Mayne's sense of humor.

This week, our crusaders of the gridiron, the Scourge of Dixie, America's Team, your CAROLINA PANTHERS hosted the Dallas Cowboys. Sitting atop the NFC South, a win would clinch the division and a playoff berth. However, Paul Tagliabue and the NFL officiating crew had other plans. . .

The Panthers came out fast and furious. A K John Kasay field goal, a WR Drew Carter (playing in only his second game ever!) TD, Panthers up 10-0! Miss Ellie is rolling over in her grave! The Cowboys squeaked back to tie it up, but another Kasay FG and a *perfectly legal blocked field goal* sent the Panthers into the locker rooms at half time with a commanding 13-10 lead. Stick a Southfork in them, the Cowboys are done!

It was during those ignominious minutes that a plan was hatched by NFL officials. The Panthers are too good, too powerful. Spike merchandise sales by sending Dallas into the playoffs. The Panthers must lose. By any means necessary.

At the start of the third, the Cowboys went up 17-13, but the Panthers were hardly concerned. Dallas was already gasping trying to keep up with the superior conditioning of the Tar Heel Terror Squad. As the Cajun Hannibal, QB Jake Delhomme, marched his team down the field, defeat hung like a flag at half-mast in the eyes of the Cowboy defenders. Then, in a miraculous play, WR Steve Smith recovered a fumble by Delhomme and ran it to the 39, only to be shoved hard to the ground by Dallas' Newman. The refs throw a flag, but is it on Newman? Has Sue Ellen ever refused a drink? Smith is ejected! Dallas is on its way to the playoffs.

Nice plan. Except someone forgot to tell the Panthers.

Despite the absence of their star player, the Panthers soldiered on, and in one of the top ten drives in NFL history, score the go-ahead touchdown with less than three minutes to play! What pluck! What verve! Officials huddled nervously. QB Kerry Collins took the Cowboys to FG range to send it to overtime. It's blocked! CB Ken Lucas, the unheralded off-season acquisition, blocks the kick! It's over! Panthers win!

Except. . .

Bedevilment! In underhandedness reminiscent of Cliff Barnes, officials call DE Julius Peppers and CB Lucas for roughing the kicker! New set of downs! With the odds clearly drawn against them, the Panthers tried to hold on, but the referees were too much--the Cowboys scored a TD and stole the victory.

Here's the scenario for this week, folks:
IF the Panthers beat Atlanta and Tampa Bay beats New Orleans, the Panthers get a wild card spot.
IF the Panthers beat Atlanta and Tampa Bay loses to New Orleans, the Panthers win the NFC South.
IF the Panthers lose, they need help from Dallas and Bobby Ewing's death to have all been a dream to get in.

The season comes down to tomorrow aftenroon. Win and you're in. Lose, and hope.

Until next time.

Rrowrrr!

Week 15: We Do Right Bayou

2005-12-23T08:20:00.000-05:00

After getting my parents a new surround sound system last Christmas, my brother and I were struggling to come up with a gift this year. Digital cameras, laptops, PDAs and the like would turn into hi-tech coasters within days of our departure. But one thing our parents do do is watch television. Every night after they come home. And they don't have cable. (Realize that my parents still use the first cell phone they ever got. In fact, I think it's the first cell phone ever made. It's about the size of a shoe. And their calling plan is something like twenty-five minutes per month.) They don't need anything fancy, like TiVO. It's not like they like some television significantly more than other. They just like television. So, after some research, I decided to get them a Dish Network subscription.

"That's a great idea," said my brother after I told him. "They're going to love that. Plus we won't feel like we're in a third-world country every time we go back home."

I set up their subscription on my credit card, and arranged for the installation on the morning of Christmas Eve. Now, all I had to do was tell them when to be home. I could hardly contain my excitement. I called them at work.

"Hey, we need your flight information," said my mother as my parents got on the phone.

"I'll get it to you, it's sometime late afternoon on Christmas Eve," I said, struggling to sound calm. "But listen, I need you to be home that morning from 8 to noon."

Dad: "He's coming between eight and noon."
Me: "No, I'm not coming then. Someone else is coming. To install something. I need you to be home."
Mom: "Who's coming?"
Me: "I can't tell you. It's a surprise." I was smiling from ear to ear.
Dad: "This is for Christmas?"
Mom: "Someone's coming with you from the airport?"

What did they think I was going to do, install a baggage carousel in their den? "No, no one's coming with me. I'm not coming in the morning. Someone else is coming to install something. A surprise."

Dad: "No no no, we don't need a plasma screen."

Jesus Christ, how much did they think we were going to spend this year? "Um. . .it's not a plasma screen."

Dad: "Are they delivering a car?"
Mom: "You're getting Daddy a new car?!"
Me: "NO! No one's getting a new car!" What happened to the simplest gifts being the best? "I just need you to be home from eight to noon for a surprise."
Mom: "I don't understand what time you're coming."
Dad: "Why don't you bring girls home with you? That would be a real surprise."
Me: "LOOK, just be HOME from eight to noon."

I thought that was the end of it. Two hours later, my father calls me.

"Look," he started, "we appreciate what you're doing. But don't worry about it. If you're getting us cable--" here I smiled again "--don't bother, we're going to get it eventually, once we decide where the television is going." They've had that television for six years now. It's never moved once. I would be able to convince them out of it by week's end.

"Now, if you're getting us a treadmill. . ."

Onto the game. . .

With the Bucs blanked by the once-more-overhyped Patriots last Saturday, control of the NFC South was there for the taking on Sunday by America's Team, the Scourge of Dixie, your CAROLINA PANTHERS! Six, nearly seven fans were in attendance in Baton Rouge as the hapless Saints, the NFL's equivalent of the Kucinich campaign, hosted the Cats. (Side note: it's funny how the NFL hype machine has stopped billing the Saints as the post-Katrina feel-good story of the year. It might have something to do with multimillionaire owner Tom Benson swearing he'd never return to New Orleans. Something every New Orleans resident who still doesn't have clean water or working streetlights can feel good about.) The game also marked the return of Louisiana's favorite son, the Brahma Bull of Breaux Bridge, star of Louisiana-Lafayette and former Saints backup, Pro Bowl starting QB Jake Delhomme!

The Panthers showed why they're considered the most dominant team in the NFL, establishing the early lead from the hands of a Pro Bowl QB to the hands of Pro Bowl receiver Steve Smith. Touchdown! Panthers up 7-0! Saints QB Aaron Brooks, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Martin Lawrence both facially and in their inability to carry anything to success by themselves, had been benched in favor of Todd Bouman, who spends most Saints games selling Cokes in the stands for extra cash. In a brilliant maneuver, Coach John Fox allowed Bouman to march up the field, in order to better study his prey. 7-7.

Then the levee broke and the Panthers went Category 4 on their ass. Kasay field goal. An exchange of fumbles, before Delhomme looted the Saints D for a TD run. Panthers up 20-10 going into the half! The fans do the wave--no, it's just two of them standing up. Bottom of the third, Delhomme to Smith for a TD. Pro-bowl-icious! Saints underwater 24-3. With the game firmly in control, the Tar Heel Terror Squad settled back a bit, permitting the Saints a final recovery effort before closing it out 27-10.

No reader mail feature; keep the emails coming, folks.

Next week in the NFC South: the Panthers take on the Cowboys. I loved Bill Parcells' press conference last year, when he said, about their playbook, "I don't want to offend anybody, but we use a lot of Jap plays. That means sneaky plays." Then, when he saw the stunned looks on the faces of the press, he said, "I SAID I wasn't trying to offend anybody!" The best part was how offended he looked that his disclaimer hadn't been enough. Forget coaching--why isn't this guy heading FEMA?

And the Bucs and Falcons hopefully beat the hell out of each other.

Until next time.

Rrowrrr!

MERRY XMAS EVERYBODY!

Week 14: The Panther, the Buc, and the WarZone

2005-12-18T23:48:00.000-05:00

Once a year, my father goes up to New York City for a five-day medical conference, and once a year, I trek up to the Ground Zero of bad tipping to spend a Christmas weekend in Manhattan with him.

With the ice storm, my 9:30 flight was delayed two hours, such that it was two o'clock in the morning when he, bleary-eyed, let me into his hotel room. I chatted with him as I unpacked my overnight bag into a dresser drawer that doubled as a secret stash of soaps and shampoo bottles he was hiding from the maid service. Sorry I'm late, I apologized. When I left my message, I
thought I was coming in on the 9:30.

We talked about the conference (going well), my work (busy), and New York (anything you want, anytime you want). "You know," I said by way of illustration, "there's a diner across the street from this hotel. We could get breakfast there anytime we wanted."

"Are you hungry?"

"No, I ate at the airport."

"Because I missed my dinner waiting for you."

"Oh, I'm--" that didn't make any sense. Had I made my original flight, I still would have arrived at midnight. I looked over at the phone on his bedside table.

"You have no idea what that flashing red light means, do you?"

"No, there's been something wrong with it since this afternoon."

Onto the game. . .

Random football note:
* How much do Chris Berman's daughter's friends hate going to her house, knowing her dad is going to call them by some lame nickname he came up with ten years ago?

This past weekend, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, led by the second-year out of the Blue Lagoon, Chris Simms, traveled to the Queen City to take on their arch-intra-division rivals. Whenever these two teams meet, the hits crunch harder, the passes spiral tighter, and Kavika Pittman gets his leg snapped. Last time they met, two Carolina Panthers had sex in a bathroom stall and
then beat the crap out of some Buccaneers fans. Needless to say, tension was running high. Every public bathroom stall had been outfitted with a video camera.

In a nailbiting epic, the Buccaneers, winless in their last five meetings, threw their enigmatic Cover 2 defense at Jake Delhomme. More mystifying than Nicole Ritchie's celebrity, the reads were too tough for even the Cajun Hannibal to get to his wide receivers. The Bucs ran Cadillac Williams up the center. Touchdown, Bucs! Like historic kings of yore, Delhomme risked life and limb to lead his team's comeback. Meanwhile, the Bucs did what the Bucs do best--cheap hit. Late hit from S Will Allen makes WR Steve Smith's whistle tips go wooh wooh! Back and forth the momentum pinballed, the fate of the NFC South in the balance. But despite their integrity, despite their valor, the heroic Panthers experienced one too many cheap hits to pull ahead. The Bucs squeaked out of Charlotte, 20-10!

Disheartening? Hardly. Consider it. Last week, the Panthers crushed the Atlanta Falcons, a team that had beaten them five times, by stunning them with mystifying defensive coverage and establishing a running game. This week, the Bucs, a team that had lost to the Panthers in their last five outings, finally beat them by. . .stunning them with mystifying defensive
coverage and establishing a running game. If this week proved anything, it's that the only team capable of beating the Carolina Panthers is. . .the Carolina Panthers.

They say imitation is the most sincere form of flattery.

Reader mail feature:

FFH says,
"Dear Panther fan --- Nice blog! I was looking for Fantasy Football Cheat Sheets related info, but stopped for a minute when I found you blog! It is great! I am book-marking it and will come back! I haven't seem a blog quite like Week 13: DeShaun Also Rises! Anyway great blog, but no Fantasy Football Cheat Sheets info here I I am out! THanks..."

Who is FFH, you ask? Some auto-generated dickhead plugging a fantasy football site. This guy leaves multiple messages on my blog each week. Remember, my blog gets fewer eyeballs than a fat girl asking you to sign a petition. Yet check out his nine postings to Week 12(http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11813620&postID=113353100150672471.
I encourage everyone to go to this guy's website and personally tell him know how much of a douchebag he is.

Next week:

The battle for the NFC South is on! 9-4 Bucs travel to New England, 9-4 Panthers travel to Baton Rouge to face the Saints, and the 8-5 Falcons travel to Soldiers Field in Chicago to take on the Bears!

Until next time.

Rrowrr!

Week 13: DeShaun Also Rises

2005-12-09T02:37:00.000-05:00

December 7 was Pearl Harbor Day. At my firm, the associates had a big sushi lunch.

We are magnanimous in victory.

Onto the game. . .

It's the stat the world was talking about heading into last Sunday. Undefeated. No losses. That's right. Michael Vick's perfect record in five starts against America's Team, the Fearsome Felines, your CAROLINA PANTHERS. I was so worried about it that in the middle of my date with Liza on Saturday night, I ducked into the bathroom to make a quick phone call.

John Fox: Hello?
Me: John? It's me.
John Fox: Oh, hey! How's the date going?
Me: No time for that, John. Listen, I'm worried. Theisman said we had no chance of beating Vick tomorrow.
John Fox: Joey Harrington ordered room service and Theisman said it was "they type of gutsy call this kid can make under pressure." Trust me, just watch tomorrow.
Me: You sure?
John Fox: I'm sure. Now, go back and don't do anything I wouldn't do.

Sunday, the plan was poetic in its simplicity, brilliant in its totality. Play the corners man-to-man, free your safeties to drop back or blitz, and force Vick to pass. What do you get? Why, just the most sacks in one location since Kelly's law school parties! On Minter, on Rucker, on Peppers and Draft! Put Davis at spy and leave Vick feeling trapped! Buckner, Moorehead, and Witherspoon too! Let Warrick go for it for a negative two! On Ericsson field there arose such a clatter! The Panthers were serving whoop-ass on a platter! Five sacks and two picks, the Panthers are rising! It's Carolina's world, so screw you, Theisman!

Reader mail feature:

From Mark L. at Wet Willie's on Miami Beach:
"I'm glad you and Reenah had a nice turkey day. You should start up a thanksgiving day catering service."

We are accepting pre-orders for our Dum-Dum platters for Halloween '06.

From Brian B., in NYC:
"...Joe Horn's constant use of the third person to describe his on-field exploits is just money. I am trying to work that into my conversational habits, a la 'those are the kinds of big deals brian b---- gets done,' or 'that's the kind of investment banker brian b----- is.'"

Do you remember a couple of years back when Joe Horn was trying really hard to get the nickname "Hollywood," and would keep using it during interviews (ala "T-bone" on "Seinfeld)? Then Chris Berman started calling him Joe "Little Big" Horn. And just like that, his endorsement opportunities went from unlimited to greeter at Foxwoods.

This week: Huge divisional matchup, as the 9-3 Panthers take on 8-4 Tampa Bay. A win this week gives Carolina undisputed dominance over the NFC South, a loss puts them in a dead heat with Tampa Bay with three games left in the season.

Until next time.

Rrowrrr!

Week 12: Jake Delhomme and the Goblet of Whoop-Ass

2005-12-02T08:41:00.000-05:00

This past Thursday, I spent Thanksgiving the way I have for the last six odd years, making dinner with Reenah. This was to be our first Thanksgiving in her new house.

"Let me take that," she said shortly after I arrived. I had draped my jacket across her sofa. It's actually a very nice jacket, calfskin. It's part of my fall look: "Prosperous Yet Sensual." She took my jacket, walked five steps, and threw it onto another sofa.

We had divided up the dishes. Reenah was in charge of the traditional Indo-Korean roast chicken, the stuffing, cranberry sauce, butternut squash, and mashed potatoes. "And you," she told me over the phone, "are in charge of the beverages, the dessert, the greens, and the backup gravy." Reenah, I said, how 'bout we make some gravy and then we make some babies? At first I thought I had lost the connection, but after a few moments, she started speaking again.

The bird turned out succulent and perfect, my roast asparagus spears with asiago shavings was a hit, and the backup gravy proved wholly unnecessary, as this year, Reenah had used copious amounts of chicken broth to give her gravy a rich, briny flavor.

I carved the chicken, prepared our plates, and then sat down with her to give our thanks. I've been going first ever since the notorious 2003 debacle. Reenah went first that year. "I'm thankful for my apartment, and my job, the vacation I'm going to take with my mother this year, and that this food turned out so well. Your turn." "I'm thankful that we have such good friends in our lives in such proximity, and that all the people we love
and care about are in good health." I picked up my knife and fork.

Reenah: "Wait, that's what you're giving thanks for?"
Me, knife and fork poised in midair over his food: "Yeah. That's it."
Reenah: "I thought you were just going to say something funny. I get to go again."
Me: "You don't get to go again! Once you say it and pass, you're locked in. There's no do over."

This year, I gave my thanks, Reenah matched, and we started eating.

How's work?, I asked. "Oh fine. I was working pretty late yesterday on this patent case I have next month. I actually made one of the junior associates miss his flight home." "That must have made you only slightly less popular than handing out one Dum Dum per person on Halloween." "And next week is crazy. I have a deposition on Monday, a mediation on Wednesday, and two more depositions Thursday and Friday, all in different cities. The partners wanted me to take a deposition on Tuesday too, but luckily that one had to be rescheduled. How's work for you?" "Good. One of the secretaries told me I remind her of her gynecologist."

"Are you cold?" called out Reenah. She had gone upstairs to check the thermostat. I was watching in silent fascination as my mashed potatoes were beginning to unmash themselves back into a potato. I poked at a frozen mass the size and consistency of a hockey puck with my fork. "I'm fine," I answered. "All right. Let me know if you get cold," she said, coming down
the stairs dressed in a comforter.

"Seeing anybody?" I asked. "Nope," she said, checking her blackberry for the sixth time that evening. "You?" "Nope," I said, interrupting the iPod playlist she'd created for the evening to find something I liked instead.

Cake and tea in hand, we settled down onto her sofa to watch the movie. (My first holiday selection, "The Killing Fields," was vetoed in favor of my second, "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation.") "Do you think we'll be doing his five years from now?" she asked me.

"Yes," I said. "Only with more cats."

On to the game. . .

Random NFL thoughts:

Peyton's new commercial: rarely does one see so much effort behind so little personality.

Did anyone realize that the Cleveland Browns are playing this season? I'm serious, they are. Quick, name a single memorable play of theirs this season. Name a non-Reuben Droughns starter. Uh huh. Uh huh. I'll come back.

Did you hear Joe Horn rip into Paul Tagliabue for not meetings with the Saints after Hurricane Katrina? Funny, it's been ages since I heard the NFL hype machine spin every Saints victory into a "feel-good story for America." You want a marketing tip, watch figure skating. I was looking for football highlights on ESPN2 and found figure skating. Yeah, that's it. Anyway, one of their television sponsors? Ore-Ida french fries. I don't know who convinced Ore-Ida that advertising during a skating competition would hit their target audience, but they deserve a raise.

Like the pilgrims of yore, on the last blustery weekend of November, the NFC South leaders, America's Team, your CAROLINA PANTHERS, headed north to Buffalo, home to the number four take from the "great" QB draft of '03 and the self-proclaimed "best running back in the league." Buffalo, New York--official motto: "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride." Wheezing spittle and wing sauce, sixty thousand plus fans in attendance leaned forward in their Rascals to cheer their team on. Against these odds, how could the underdog Panthers possibly prevail?

The first quarter passed without a score, a stalemate between two outstanding defenses. But early in the second, with the brilliant John Fox calling the plays from the sidelines like a non-anti-Semitic Bobby Fischer of x's and o's, the Panthers took a 3-0 lead. Sure, many rookie coaches would have been tempted at this point to go for flashy, high-risk touchdowns. But revealing yet another layer of his genius, Coach Fox knew what he had to do: protect the lead, grind out the clock.

Whatcha cookin, mama? Tough to say, because the Carolina D is all up in Willis McGahee's kitchen! 21 carries for a puny 53 yards! Tied after three quarters, the Bills led by three in the final three minutes. The end, it seemed, was certain. With WR Steve Smith facing double coverage and WR Keary Colbert still in the witness protection program, there was just no one to--wait, is that Garth Brooks? No, it's his sure-handed alter ego, third-string TE Michael Gaines! Delhomme to Gaines for a TD! Panthers win! Panthers win!

Reader mail feature:

Brian B. from Buffalo wrote,
"Excuse you? 'Capital City of Failure'?? Buffalo is known, fyi, as The Queen City. I can't wait to head butt you."

Don't worry, Brian. I hear Joey Harrington will be on the market this spring. And you know what they say. 'There's always room for Kurt Warner. . .'

Next week: the Tar Heel Terror Squad takes on Michael Vick and the Falcons. You know you're surrounded by too many yes-men when you leave the house with the cornrows Vick or McNabb sport and think it looks good.

Until next time.

Rrowrrr!

Week 11: Derailed

2005-11-25T09:04:00.000-05:00

Our D.C. office brought in a new security chief, due to a rash of thefts since we moved into our new building. Six iPods being stolen in the past three months resulted in a meeting Wednesday morning. I came to the meeting late, which in itself raised some eyebrows. Luckily, I hadn't followed through on my thought of sending out an all-firm request for six iPod chargers. Or asking that the meeting be podcast.

Our new security chief is a no-nonsense, ex-DEA undercover agent. He assured us that he would be our eyes and ears. The thefts had taken place during daylight and evening hours, and he thought inside and outside people might be involved. He urged us to stay alert and report any suspicious activity.

Sarah asked whether we could set up some sort of system where one could report suspicious activity anonymously. That's great, I thought. Maybe you can include a drop-down menu that says, 'If you're reporting this person for a reason other than their ethnicity, click here.'

The thefts had progressed to laptops. A partner, Annemargaret, had had hers stolen earlier in the week. 'I thought someone from MIS had taken it,' she said, 'because I had called the helpdesk earlier in the afternoon.' Our helpdesk people? Responding in a couple of hours? That should have raised her suspicions immediately.

As an added security measure, our chief of security suggested requiring all employees to wear their I.D. badges visibly at all times. I leaned over to Greg, one of our senior legislative paralegals, who is gay. Collectively, we're on the outer perimeters of our respective sexual preferences. 'I don't know how I'm supposed to coordinate this with all of my outfits,' I told him. He nodded sympathetically.

Despite the initial explosion of thieving, our security chief was sure that with a little cooperation from everyone, we would put an end to it. 'I don't get it,' whispered Karl, a tax partner, to me. 'How come no one's stealing my stuff?'

'What's wrong with my stuff?'

On to The Game. . .

In a heartstopping thriller last Saturday, in which the Ivy League witnessed its first-ever triple overtime game, the Harvard Crimson eked out a victory over your YALE BULLDOGS. Yale roared back the following week, however, with a convincing 3-0 victory in Rhodes scholarships.

On to the game. . .

"Having seen [Chicago], I desire never to see it again. It is inhabited by savages." -Rudyard Kipling

What do you call a man who coaches his team into first place? Talented.

What do you call a man who strategically moves his team into second place? Is the word 'genius' spoken for?

Last week, the most complete team in professional sports, the most dominant defense in the National Football League, the Growling Wall, the Tar Heel Terror Squad, your CAROLINA PANTHERS, traveled to Chicago with weighty matters on their mind. They were tied with Seattle for first place. Were they to continue on their torrid pace, they would easily clinch the top seed, and end up in the same bracket as the likey number three seed, the New York Giants. If only there were a way to move into the second seed, and take on either Dallas or the dregs of the NFC South.

If only there were some way. . .

With Chicago fans putting their enormous collective girth behind their team, Kyle Orton nimbly led the Bears to a punt. They were going to need a little help. On the Panthers first possession, the Cajun Hannibal, Jake Delhomme, deftly underthrew his pass into the hands of Bears CB Nathan Vasher. Chicago converted into a touchdown. So far, so good.

On their next possession, Orton again steered the Bears into a punt. Concern creased the brow of the Panthers coach. The Bears were entirely capable of playing themselves into a loss. Panthers' next possession, Delhomme looked for his favorite target, Nathan Vasher. A perfect pass to Vasher! The Bears defense hasn't seen this much action since Paris Hilton dumped Brian Urlacher! Could there be any doubt about John Fox's ingenious strategy? Is there any other way to explain why Delhomme would throw a pass short and to the inside while his receiver was going long and out _twice_ in the same qaurter? Perfect pass, perfect set-up, Bears take a 10-0 lead.

With the Bears lead securely in place, the Panthers offense relented, letting their defense chew up the clock with the Bears offense. In the end, the Panthers earned a much-needed 13-3 loss, and a chance to determine their own destiny in the playoffs.

No reader mail feature this week. Keep them emails coming.

Next week: your Panthers travel to the Capital City of Failure, Buffalo, to take on J.P. Losman and the Bills.

Until next time.

Rrowrrrr!

Week 10: Smash the Line

2005-11-18T08:46:00.000-05:00

From all indications, Wednesday was supposed to be an extraordinary day. Marathon's world record holder (and 2005 NYC champsion) Paul Tergat was visiting the World Bank as a guest of the Kenyan embassy, and a girl in one of my track clubs offered to get me in.

You should go, Mary told me. Challenge him to a race.

I was going to do either that or follow him around the building, offering him "tips" on running the NYC marathon.

I got to the World Bank about half an hour after his reception started. Went to the atrium. No Paul Tergat! "Excuse me," I said to one of the guards. "I'm looking for the event for Paul Tergat?"

Guard: "Straight downstairs. Retirement party, right?"
Anant: "No. Thin black man."
Guard: "Oh. Sorry. Can't help you out."

I paced the length of the atrium. Where in the World Bank was Paul Tergat? Perhaps he was stretching by the cafeteria, or cooling down by the water fountain. I asked a random black man in the atrium if he was there for Paul Tergat. He was not.

I went to the Information desk. "Hi, I'm here for Paul Tergat?"
"Is he expecting you?"
"Not really."
"Do you have his extension?"
For an information desk, she was asking a lot of questions.
"He doesn't work here."
She looked at me. I looked at her. She tried to pretend she didn't think I was a complete dumbass.

It turned out that the Kenyan Ambassador was taking him on a tour of the building. I had too much work pending to wait, so, alas, my wait for Tergat was all for naught. But, I'm not too disappointed. As Kwame said,

"Forget Tergat! He is one bad marathon away from selling fake gucci bags in Times Square."

Meanwhile. . .

Tell Bob Griese to pour out the champagne! Tell Larry Csonka to hold his vowels! The '72 Dolphins are no longer the only undefeated team in football! The Boston Bruisers, your ANDOVER BLUE rolled over rival Exeter, 24-8, in their most dominant victory in their 125-year football rivalry, finishing the regular season at 8-0!

The motto? "Non sibi." The meaning? "Not for self." It's our school motto as well as our philosophy on allocating whoop-ass. Fan reaction was unrestrained and intense.

From Brian B. in NYC:
"Pls set yourself on fire. . ."

From Matt B. in SF:
"Hey, in the attached picture, isn't that you in the front row in your 'ghoul' costume?"

On to the game. . .

Last week, the most dangerous team in football, the New York Jets, traveled into the heart of Tobacco Country to light it up with the Tar Heel Terror Squad, the most complete team in the history of organized sports, your CAROLINA PANTHERS! Against odds so great, could even the gutsy underdog Panthers prevail?

The first quarter was all Cat. The Cajun Hannibal, Jake Delhomme, marched the Blue Swarm downfield, arcing a beautiful 19-yd TD pass to WR Keary Colbert. Panthers up 7-0! Brooks Bollinger, continuing the tradition of shitty-QBs-with-Brooks-in-their-name, matched a second quarter FG to take the Jets into halftime down by a touchdown, 10-3.

Coming out of the locker room, the Jets looked re-energized, Bollinger ready to make more passes than Joe Namath after his third highball. How could the Panthers prevail? With the Growling Wall, that's how! Midway through a heart-stopping 0-0 third quarter, the vaunted Carolina defense took over. Observe: Bollinger pass to Laeavearnaaueas Coles intercepted by the most underappreciated free agent signing of the offseason, CB Ken Lucas. Touchback! Next Jets possession: Same QB. Same receiver. Another interception by Lucas! RB Stephen Davis touchdown! Panthers the most complete team in football! Next Jets possession. Smashmouth tackle by Ricky Manning results in a fumble. We had them at hello! Next Jets possession. Bollinger to McCareins intercepted by CB Chris Gamble! McCareins' head weighs eight pounds! John Kasay FG! Panthers win 30-3!

Next week:
It's the most highly-anticipated matchup in football. The tradition. The history. The tailgating. The cramming for finals. It's the 122nd Game, pitting the mighty Yale Bulldogs (4-5, 4-2 Ivy) against the Harvard Crimson (6-3, 4-2 Ivy) for the H-Y-P crown, the Ivy League championship, and a shot at immortality. Sing with me!

Oh when the sons of Eli break through the line
That is the sound we hail!
Bulldogs, Bulldogs, bow wow wow
E-li Yale!

Until next time.

Rrowrrr!

Week 9: Get Hit, and Die Cryin'

2005-11-11T01:50:00.000-05:00

I spent this past weekend in NYC for the NYC marathon. Having run Marine Corps the weekend prior, I was curious to see how well I could run a marathon on one week's rest.

Unless you're in a ski lodge or skinned them yourself, Ugg boots look stupid.

I met Mary for coffee. That was fun. We made fun of the people walking around on Saturday in their running gear. Maybe they thought the beginning of the race was a surprise.

The three best race signs I've ever seen were all this year. #3: the first sign you saw coming off the Verrazano Bridge at the start of the race was a handwritten one that read, "Yo! Welcome to Brooklyn!" Tied for first were two women holding signs side-by-side in Marine Corps that read, "Damn, You're Hot!" and "Are You Always This Sexy?"

Most obvious product placement: Mile 18's PowerGel Energy Zone
Most perplexing product placement: Mile 17's SpongeBob SquarePants hydration zone (they were handing out sponges). Although there is something immensely satisfying after seventeen miles about stomping on the faces of hundreds of SpongeBob SquarePants.

Mile 19: I had a great idea: we should replace personal income tax with a flat tax corresponding to a person's percent body fat. It would simplify the tax code and encourage people to exercise.

The final 10K was all mental; my legs just didn't have enough punch. I finished about eight minutes slower than my marine corps time. I wasn't too psyched about my finish until I found out that Kwame, who had also run, had not only finished with a slower time than his previous year's, but had also dropped his cell phone down a port-a-potty that morning. The lesson: life
can always be shittier.

Onto the game. . .

The Panthers now have the inarguably hottest cheerleaders in professional sports, specifically Renee Thomas. Let's recap. They traveled to Tampa Bay on their own money to cheer on the Panthers. Stayed out until two in the morning the night before. Getting drunk by crashing a ten-year high school reunion at a bar. Getting so drunk that they decide to have sex. With each
other. At the bar. In a bathroom. In the men's bathroom. Where they make so much noise and take so long that the patrons complain to the management. At which point a drunken Renee comes out of the stall and punches one of the guys. In the face. Gets arrested. Gives a false name. Flees back to North Carolina. And has an arrest warrant issued.

It also tells you a lot about the kind of douchebag guys who live in Tampa Bay. You have two NFL cheerleaders having sex in the bathroom, and what do you do? Complain to management so you can _take a dump_.

Sunday witnessed a colossal matchup, 5-2 v. 5-2, 2002 NFC Champions v. 2003 NFC Champions, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers v. your CAROLINA PANTHERS!!! On the one hand, you had the Bucs and Cadillac Williams, who, as you recall, was on pace to break every rushing records on the books for about the first six plays this season. On the other hand, you had the most complete team in history, better than the '92 Dream Team, the '94 Oilers, or the Holy
Trinity. On the Bucs' first possession, the Growling Wall was all over QB Chris Simms like pie on a fat kid. DE Mike Rucker forced a fumble, leading to an RB Stephen Davis touchdown--Panthers up 10-0! The Bucs responded with a touchdown of their own, but the game was already slipping out of their grasp. Showing masterful field control, the Cajun Hannibal, QB Jake
Delhomme, alternated his ground attack with an aerial assault, sending Davis in for two touchdowns and WR Steve Smith for one! The Tar Heel Terror Squad forced four turnovers and kept Simms backpedaling most of the afternoon, with Human Sack Machine DE Julius Peppers accounting for two of five sacks on Simms. What did John Gruden tell his team at halftime? I don't know. It probably wasn't, "Hey, let CB Chris Gamble intercept you during our first
possession and run it back for 61 yards." Which is what he did. Finally, the Panthers put them out of their misery, allowing them a mercy 7 during garbage time in the fourth before running out the clock. Final score: Panthers, 34-17.

Reader mail feature:
From Kevin C., in NYC:

"I was recently in the Westin in Charlotte, not quite as cool as their W line but the image they try to portray is similar. I was there for a Health Care Fraud conference. The last day all of the guests for the next conference were arriving. The next conference: Beer Can Collectors of America. I was sure you'd have felt right at home with your kindred - fat southern guys with beer guts and rare cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon."

The most interesting thing about Kevin's email is that he's on some sort of two-week time delay. Hey, Kevin, here's a tip: don't travel to Paris any time in your near future.

Next week, the Panthers host the once-mighty Jets. Key matchups: the Carolina Panthers are the most complete team in football. Half of the Jets' starters were working as mall security last week.

Until next time.

Rrowrrr!

Week 8: Doom

2005-11-04T08:26:00.001-05:00

Halloween night, Reenah had invited all of us to pass out candy to trick-or-treaters at her new place on Capitol Hill. I was planning on working late that night, until, around 7:30, I received a frantic phone call from Reenah.

Reenah: "I'm having a Halloween emergency! Come quick, I'm out of everything, and they keep coming. I had to borrow a bag of lollilops from my neighbor!"
Me: "I'm sorry, Reenah, I--"
Reenah: "I can't hold out much longer, they're everywhere! Please hurry!"

Splurging on the CVS Select chocolate bars, I ventured into Southeast D.C. to relieve Reenah at her post. She was down to doling out a single Dum Dum per trick-or-treater, which elicited a spectrum of reactions, from visible disappointment to "This is some bulls***." That last kid was 13 years old and easily outweighed Reenah and me by 100 pounds. I was ready to hop into a cab and get him a Ghirardelli basket, but Reenah held firm, and quietly asked me to stop urinating on myself.

They just kept coming and coming. I felt like we were Paul Newman and Robert Redford at the end of "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," expending our last bandoliers of chocolate bars into the relentless advance of the Bolivian army.

Growing up, Halloween had been a neighborly thing--you stopped by your neighbors' house, chatted for five minutes, they gave you some candy, then you did the same thing at the house next door. This was purely transactional. The high school kids didn't even bother with costumes, they just showed up with bookbags sullenly outstretched. Some kids made an effort, though. My favorite costume was the two brothers who split a Batman suit. One wore the suit. The other wore the Batman mask with a crisp sports shirt. Casual day at the Batcave.

The most volatile moment occurred when an eight-year-old girl, unfazed by the yards filled with skulls and tombstones and cackling goblins, was so terrified by the sight of Reenah's leftover tempura that she missed seeing Reenah drop candy in her bag. Then, when I tried to boot her off the porch, she started complaining loudly that we hadn't given her any candy. Luckily, her mother had seen everything, and told her she was mistaken.

In the girl's defense, however, it was only one Dum Dum.

On to the game. . .

After taking a bye week to allow the rest of the beleaguered league time to recuperate, the Tar Heel Terror Squad, America's Team, your CAROLINA PANTHERS hosted the infamous Minnesota Vikings this past Sunday. Before the game, Vikings CB Fred Smoot trash-talked Pro Bowl-bound WR Steve Smith.

The thing is, as any of you who have followed my posts for the past two years when Fred was a Redskin, Fred Smoot is vastly entertaining because 60% of what he says is unintelligible. It's entirely plausible for a guy like him to call in dinner reservations and end up with two boatloads of hookers. So I can't imagine what his trash-talk sounds like.

Smoot: Ergwt! Frert dwse grgyu!
Smith: I'm sorry, what was that again?
Smooth: Pokr sjijt wezz! Stlkj1!
Smith: I. . .are you asking me a question?
Smoot: Retj! Ujij! Slli tnno qwe!
Smith: Umm. . .(with great uncertainty) Tuesday.

Trailing 7-0 by the end of the first, a scrambling QB Daunte Culpepper got hit low but legally by CB Chris Gamble, tearing the anterior cruciate, medial collateral, and posterior cruciate ligaments in his knee (for those of you keeping score at home--there are no other ligaments in the knee). The hit left him entirely immobile, but still ahead of Michael Bennett on the RB depth chart.

Dominating on both sides of the ball, Carolina rang up a 24-0 lead by halftime, their receivers like mirages on the field, their defense like Estonian sumo star Baruto in the ring. What poise, what grace! By afternoon's end, as a dispirited Vikings squadron trudged slowly off the field savoring a 38-13 defeat, the general Jake Delhomme had posted 3 TDs on 21/30 for 341 yds
and the best WR in football in the past fifteen years, Steve Smith, had 11 recs for 201 and 1 TD.

Reader mail feature

From Brian B., in NYC:
"I was glad to see that the Ivy League Credentials feature of your blog make it's return, with a full paragraph devoted to HLS. Please keep it up."

You're right Brian, I should be spending an equal amount of time showcasing other fine academic institutions, for example, the University of Virginia. Located in Charlottesville, Virginia, UVA prides itself on being the best source of higher education in the region, no small feat when your competition is Uno's Management Training School and a state technical college whose football team fields more thugs than Burt Reynolds' in The Longest Yard. UVA is also known for its Honor Code, embodying all of the virtues most other schools think are intuitive enough not to have to put into writing.

Up next: the surging 5-2 Panthers meet the 5-2 Buccaneers in a battle for Dirty Souf supremacy. Things to watch: on one side of the ball you have the Human Sack Machine, DE Julius Peppers. On the other side, you have QB Chris Simms, who looks like prison currency. Who would you go with? One other sidebar: in each of the past two years, Carolina DE Kavika Pittman has had his season ended after having his ACL torn by the Buccaneers. I don't really have anything to add to that if I could be anyone this Sunday, it wouldn't be Kavika Pittman.

Until next time.

Rrowrrrr!

Week 7: Bye Bye Bye

2005-11-04T08:26:00.000-05:00

Week 6: Two (QBs) for the Money

2005-10-20T23:10:00.000-05:00

I spent the first half of this week doing doc review in San Diego.

I stayed at the W Hotel, which marks the first time I've ever stayed at a hotel that's cooler than me. Everything there oozed a hipster vibe, from the techno music thumping through the lobby to the beanbags in our rooms to the trendy young hotel staff steeped in hair product and "Laguna Beach" plot points. At times it felt like the hotel was trying too hard, like the teacher who would sit cross-legged on the edge of his desk to show everybody he was "with it." Everything there had a little name. The gym was named "Sweat." The pool was named "Wet." And on our phones was a little button that said "Whatever/Whenever." I thought you were supposed to press it and the phone would start playing Shakira; instead, it connected you to their version of a concierge. I was tempted to dial Whatever/Whenever and ask to speak to Wet.

I was so uncool that upon checking in, I rolled my luggage right past the elevator banks ("Lift") into the restaurant. I eventually found my way back to Lift when a courteous young fellow dressed entirely in black darted out from behind a secret panel ("Let me get that for you, sir") and pressed the Up button. I felt like a supervillain at the grand opening of his secret lair.

On to the game. . .

Last Sunday, the mighty Blue, the Tar Heel Terror Squad, the most complete football team in the Super Bowl era, your CAROLINA PANTHERS, journeyed to Detroit, home of the Edsel, the 11.2 mpg SUV, and Joey Harrington. There lay the Lions, kings of the NFC North, who can score against you at will except when their offense is on the field. Facing conference leaders on their home turf, what chance could the underdog Panthers have?

One in a million, you say? So you're saying there's a chance. . .

In the first half, the Gary Kasparov of the gridiron, Jake Delhomme, was brilliant. Calling to mind the great Johnny U., with shades of Peyton Manning in any game that doesn't count, Delhomme threw touchdown after touchdown, to WR Rod Gardner, to LB Boss Bailey, to WR Steve Smith, to S Kenoy Kennedy! Unberrievaberr! At the end of the first half, it's 14-14 Panthers!

With an offense more in need of repair than the Oldsmobile line-up, Harrington led the Lions to all of two field goals in the second half. But for a city content to cripple their employers with bloated pension plans, six points seemed like it should be enough. And when Delhomme was taken out of the game by a questionable hit from Kenoy "Lone Gunman" Kennedy, the Panthers' fate seemed sealed. After all, who can replace a field general like Delhomme? Why, 2000 Heisman Trophy winner Chris Weinke! It's throwback time in the Superdome! The ageless Ricky Proehl is in at WR! Hogan slams Andre! Weinke's last seven passes are all to Ricky Proehl! We haven't seen this kind of chemistry since Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon! In the final minute--Weinke to Proehl! Touchdown! Panthers win! Panthers win!

Best post-game quote, as the Panthers head into a bye week and look ahead to playing Minnesota in two weeks:

Panthers CB Dante Wesley, on what he plans to do during his week off: "I'm not going near a lake."

Reader mail feature:

From Mike Y., in Cairo:
"Wouldn't all the teams in the NFL other than the 49ers be undefeated in Mexico; coming from Andover, I expect more of you than that."

I'm getting shit from a guy who once tried to impersonate an Australian by saying "Aaargh, matey!"? But, you're right Michael. Everybody except the 49ers and Dave's colon are undefeated in Mexico.

No update next week. But Smoot Dogg and the Vikes would have had their hands full anyway. How will they deal with a Panthers squad that's had an extra week to rest?

Until next time.

RROWRRRR!

Week 5: A History of Violence

2005-10-13T23:41:00.000-05:00

I was in Chicago for the marathon this weekend, and met some friends out at a bar after the race. The worst part about being in Chicago is when you're forced to watch a Bears-Browns game on the big screen. The second worst part is getting into a cab back to my friend's place with a cabbie who is (i) a huge Bears fan and (ii) the most idiotic football fan I ever met. And this from a guy who admittedly knows only as much as he reads about the sport. Less than three minutes to go in the game, Bears down by two touchdowns, Kyle Orton throws an interception. "You see!" yelled my cabdriver, banging his steering wheel. "Dees ees why you don't trow de football in dis situation. You have to run de ball!" Re: college coaches making the jump to the NFL: "If dey asked me, I would say, I'm not going to sign until you get a franchise player. You need de good players to make de good team! See, dey don't tink about dat."

My friend is a Lions fan and the refs in that game were all but driving suspiciously new Fords the way they were penalizing the Ravens. I know that Ray Lewis is a de facto ESPN announcer, but when are people going to stop hailing him as this great leader and lay blame where blame is due--he's the reason this now-soft defense is just a bunch of poorly disciplined thugs. Why did they get so many penalties on Sunday? Well, let's see. . .their team captain was arraigned on a murder charge five years ago, and has the most egomaniacal, self-centered entrance in all of football (yet when T.O. calls him on it perfectly, _he's_ the bad guy).

But at least they're not the Vikes. Who are now embroiled in a brouhaha over an alleged incident involving several of their players, a boat, and "lewd acts" described by one colorful onlooker (and local news has a knack for finding the least educated, most colorful onlooker) as "girls taking their clothes off and doing some kinds of sex acts." My favorite part? Coach Mike Tice has acknowledged his team's lack of discipline by. . .bringing in two consultants.

Two consultants. Apparently, they needed outside help figuring out what was going wrong.

These are the pointers from the PowerPoint they prepared for the players.
1. There is no "I" in team.
2. Always give 120%.
3. Don't get your @#$% sucked on a boat in a lake where everybody can see you. I mean, seriously, what the @#%&?

On to the game. . .

Coming off of a blistering display of power and finesse against the Green Bay Packers, the Counts of Monte Blitzo, America's Team, your Carolina Panthers, traveled to the desert to face the mighty Arizona Cardinals, the only team in the entire league still undefeated in Mexico. For most of the first half, the two teams traded field goals and touchdowns in a brilliant display of human chess. The immortal John Kasay and the Sultan of Quick, Steve Smith, gave the Panthers the early leads, but after tying at 10 apiece, the Cardinals, more acclimated to the heat and the pervasive culture of suck, pulled away with two more scores, leading the Panthers 20-10 in the third.

But the Cats weren't done. Not by a longshot.

Late in the third, Cardinals QB Josh McCown threw a pass that was deflected by the most underrated signing of the '05 offseason, Panthers CB Ken Lucas (the same guy who deflected an end-zone pass earlier in the game!), and led to a Stephen Davis touchdown. Just like that, the Fearsome Felines were within 3! Next possession: 10 plays, 94 yards--in the final play, a determined Steve Smith wrestled the ball away from the Cardinals CB to take it into the endzone. Touchdown! Panthers! Game over!

Next week: Cat vs. Cat. Complete offense v. Complete offense. The Panthers meet the Lions.

Until next time.

RROWRRR!

Week 4: Into the Blue

2005-10-06T23:11:00.000-05:00

I was in line at Macy’s buying socks, stuck behind one of those couples that continually find new and creative ways to gum up your basic cash-for-goods transaction. I’d been waiting a while, not terribly long but long enough. Just as my turn was coming up, I spied a wall rack of Calvin Klein boxer briefs on sale, the kind I’d considered buying for a while.
"Sir?" said a saleslady after I had moved out of line. "I can take you over here." I’m sure I looked the part of a customer irate with the length of the queue.
"That’s okay," I told her. "I’m just going to look at this for a while."
She registered an odd expression before moving onto the next customer. As I turned my attention back to the wall of bulging men’s crotches, I realized that I could have framed that more artfully. . .

On Saturday night, I went to a Washington Capitols exhibition game. For those of you who've never been to a hockey game, stare at the wall in front of you for a few minutes. Got it? Okay, it's like that, but more boring.

The best thing about the MCI Arena is that after a ref blows his whistle, and you're sitting there waiting through the break in the action, the scoreboard will say, in big-ass letters, "A PENALTY HAS BEEN CALLED." It's like watching a silent film.

Onto the game. . .

The legendary Brett Favre. The Green Bay Packers. Grown men wearing yellow packing foam on their heads. All traveled down to face the bright lights of Monday night in Charlotte, home of America's team, the 2003 NFC Champions, your Carolina Panthers! Favre, sporting his "I'm-cool-enough-to-wear-sideburns-the-size-of-potholders" look, led the opening drive. How effective were the Packers against the Growling Wall? First down: no gain on the run. Second down: incomplete pass. Third down: sack by DE Mike "It's the Tendercrisp Bacon Cheddar Ranch" Rucker! Delhomme to Mangum, Panthers up by a TD in two minutes! Capacity crowd on its feet, the terrible towels are out (or, as we call them in the Carolinas, "Rebel Rousers")!

Favre led the Packers on a scoring drive to tie it up. But the second quarter was all Tar Heel Terror Squad! 3 points by Kasay! A TD (and blocked point after) pass from Delhomme! Another touchdown! Meanwhile, on USA, Ric Flair has a guy who looks like Sideshow Bob in a figure-four! What a great night to be a Carolinian!

(best thing about Ericsson: hearing seventy thousand people shout "HOOOOOOOOOOV!" whenever RB Brad Hoover touches the ball)

By the beginning of the fourth, it was Carolina 32, GB 13. The brilliant John Fox, fearful of risking injury to his Magnificent Seven, wisely toned back the front pressure, giving Favre more time to throw and giving the Carolina secondary a chance to get in the game. A coach who wants to let his offense recuperate by keeping the other offense on the field? Genius. But a coach who rests the front half of his defense while they're on the field? Da Vinci. In the waning minutes, the Packers pulled to within a FG. But ultimately, they had to pack it in. A Brett Favre Monday night moment? Not in my town.

Closing thoughts: CB Ken Lucas (formerly of the Seahawks) may have been one of the best unheralded acquisitions of the offseason. Anyone who saw Robert Ferguson come down with the football while being covered by Lucas, only to have Lucas physically _rip_ it out of his hands for a pick before Ferguson had even taken his third step knows what I'm talking about.

Reader mail feature:

Brian B. in NYC writes:
"I don't mean to split hairs, but the panthers' 'clinic' in miami was, technically speaking, a loss. But don't listen to me. I'm bitter about the bills losing to the freaking saints."

How can you hate on the Saints? Haven't you bought into the NFL hype machine? Listen to Tom Jackson:
TJ: "Watching the Saints play reinvigorates the people of New Orleans, I think."

Yes, Tom. That and permanent housing.

Next week, the mighty Panthers continue their march to the Super Bowl through the red-breasted robins of Arizona.

Until next time.

RROWRRR!

Weeks 2 and 3: Just Like Heaven

2005-09-29T23:45:00.000-05:00

a couple of things. . .

I find it immensely entertaining that a mere three weeks after the NFL hype machine anointed New Orleans "America's Team" and shoved it down our throats (even Chris Berman got in on the act with his very-special-moment deep Chris Berman voice), they're beginning to realize the folly of christening a bunch of malcontent, whining underachievers a Cinderella team. Jim Haslet, who has enigmatically stretched a lone playoff victory _five years ago_ into a career, called it "patronizing" to have the game at the Meadowlands referred to as a "home" game. Joe Horn, who so wants to become a "personality" player that he's become more transparently desperate than Don Cheadle's character in "Boogie Nights," said that the NFL made a "mockery" of their home opener. What courage! How inspirational! This is the same kind of pleasure as finding out a child star is really a dope fiend, or watching Ashlee Simpson self-destruct in front of a live studio audience. I love watching fabricated images blow up. They're still a bunch of whiny losers and the NFL is finding itself in a hole of its own creation.

On to the show. . .

The most popular forms of entertainment in Thailand are, in reverse order, muay thai boxing, swindling foreigners, and Panthers football, and the country went nuts when the Panthers crushed the Pats in Week 2. It's amazing what people can forget in a week. After a dramatic victory over the Steelers this past week, the press cognoscenti have already anointed Tom Brady as (i) the league MVP, (ii) this year's Super Bowl MVP, (iii) a Hall of Fame lock, and (iv) America's Next Top Model. Just remember, against the Panthers, Brady went 23/44 for 270, 1 INT and 1 fumble.

To dominate one of the league's most feared teams is one thing; two dominate two in successive weeks? Unberievaberr! But that's exactly what the Panthers did in Miami in week 3! After tearing apart the defending Super Bowl champs on the ground (the Locomotive, RB Stephen Davis scoring 3 TDs), the Panthers ably demonstrated their aerial aptitude, with the General, Jake Delhomme, connecting with WR Steve Smith for 3 touchdowns! The last-minute Olindo Mare was meaningless compared to the clinic put on by your Panthers! The new Power Rankings are in, No. 1--Panthers, No. 2--Jesus on Judgment Day, No. 3--everybody else!

Reader mail feature:

Dave D. writes, "You said Bangkok."
Hee hee. I know. That still cracks me up. That and Dick Butkus. And Mitch Gaylord. And guys with girls' names, like Shannon or Kelly.

Kelly H. writes: "Nice to see someone besides me take heat in one of your posts!"
Whoops.

This week, in the bright lights of Monday night, Green Bay travels to Carolina. The press already have their human interest angle: Brett Favre lost his childhood home in Hurricane Katrina. Oh boo hoo. He's still, like, a kajillionaire. If Favre thought Hurrican Katrina was bad, wait until he sees what the Blue Cyclone does to his Packers.

Until next time.

Rrowrrr!

Week 1: Here Comes the Rain Again

2005-09-15T22:28:00.000-05:00

Let me be upfront with you: I don't but into New Orleans as America's team. I don't. Despite the NFL hype machine going into overdrive, I just don't. Before the storm even hit, their organization had made arrangements for them to practice in San Antonio. They'll be able to play their home games in either Louisiana or the stadium in which they practice all week. These are guys making six or seven figures, doing exactly what they love doing, in a new town. They're just not suffering hardship, folks. It's like hoping Brittany Spears' next album will do well because that will somehow bring a ray of hope into the lives of destitute Orleaniques everywhere. They are as much "American heroes" as O.J. Simpson was declared to be when his scandal broke.

But this was the team rolling into North Carolina on Sunday, NFL hype machine preceding it, and the orders from the Commish were clear: whatever you do, make sure the Saints win their opener and their Monday nighter. This will be a ratings bonanza.

The fans packing Ericsson stadium donated $200,000 on the spot to the relief effort. Two hundred thousand dollars! That's what I love about Carolinians. Carolina fans help out a person in need. Pats fans stab them. (http://www.cnn.com/2005/US/09/14/students.stabbed.ap/index.html).

The Panthers observed a moment of silence in honor of Katrina's victims, during which the Saints put up a touchdown. Then it was all business. Delhomme to a rejuvenated Steve Smith--touchdown Carolina! Tie ball game. Saints take the lead in the second. Meanwhile, Stephen Davis was having a monster game in his return. Having Stephen Davis and Deshaun Foster both healthy and running well is like that morning you wake up and realize you have free HBO. You don't know how you got it, you know you're going to enjoy it, but you're not really expecting it to last very long.

Saints went up a TD in the second, but at the end of the first half, Steve Smith for a TD! Was the Saints' fairy tale coming to an end? Not if the NFL had anything to say about it. Referees rule he was out of bounds. Unfazed, Delhomme lines up again after a couple of plays and nails Steve Smith _again_ in the end zone for a TD! Tie ball game! But wait! Illegal touch pass, TD nullified! Going into halftime, Saints lead. Leading MVP candidate? The referees.

With the prayers of a city and the eyes of a nation resting upon them, the courageous Carolina Panthers battled back during the second half. Down 20-14 at the top of the fourth, the inspiring Panthers overcame adversity not once but twice, scoring two field goals to tie it with just over a minute remaining! With some hurried instructions from the booth, the referees threw a couple of penalties onto Carolina to advance the Saints up the field. With seven seconds left, Carney boots it through, and America's Charlatans steal their first of two victories.

By the way, for you fantasy-ers, the Correll Buckhalter award goes to Pro Bowl Carolina DT Kris Jenkins, out for the second consecutive season, this time with a torn ACL. Names being bandied about as his replacement include ex-FEMA director Michael Brown. Because no one stops forward progress like Michael Brown.

Reader mail feature:

From Brian B.:

"the ivy league credentials / football ratio in this blog is troublingly high...and another thing: who the hell is yaghmour? that is all."

As we used to say at the prestigious Phillips Academy, on the nose, old boy! For the benefit of my readers in New York and Tokyo, I'll try to keep local friend references to a minimum. To answer your question, a "Yaghmour" is another name for the Missing Link.

This Sunday, the peerless Pats roll into Ericsson. Everyone's expecting a walk-over. So did Custer.

Until next time.

RROWRRRRR!

Preseason Week 4: March of the Panthers

2005-09-08T22:17:00.000-05:00

As the nation continues one of the largest humanitarian relief projects ever undertaken, I once again urge everyone to do what they can to help those who have been devastated by Katrina's wake. I myself am opening up my home to any strippers left homeless by the hurricane.

We all have to do our part.

This weekend, the most dominant dynasty in the NFL, as Americana as Rockwell and teenage sexual exploration, your CAROLINA PANTHERS met the Pittsburgh Steelers for the final game of the preseason. There have been a lot of storylines this offseason: who has more of a lantern jaw, Bill Cowher or Jessica Simpson? Who has bigger breasts, Jerome Bettis or Jessica Simpson? But perhaps most intriguing of all: can future Hall-of-Famer RB Stephen Davis return to form after season-ending knee surgery last year? Can the Human Buzzsaw take the Blue Blitz Machine back to the Super Bowl?

DID YOU KNOW that the daily caloric intake of the average Pittsburgh fan can feed a starving family in Darfour for six months?

Field general Jake Delhomme smartly marched his team up the field for a quick score and the early lead. But the story of the night was the dynamic play of Davis! 5 times for an amazing 17 yards! Unberrievaberr!

Another Pittsburgh fun fact: Heinz family scion, Chris Heinz, was a year ahead of Dave and myself in Pierson College at Yale (he was actually in the same Pierson class as Matt Pillsbury, making it one of the wealthiest Pierson classes of all time). And he was the same year as Theo Epstein (the Yalie who led the Red Sox to the World Series last year), with whom I served on the Yale Daily News. A few years later, when Dave and I were at HLS (this is after we both worked at the Advisory Board under rising star Jeff Zients, who has recently made Forbes Richest 40 Under 40 several years in a row now), who was at HBS but Chris Heinz (this was his dating-Gwyneth-Paltrow phase). All I'm saying is that, no matter how many opportunities one is given in life, some of us just end up making friends with the Yaghmours of the world.

The Gary Kasparov of the Gridiron, John Fox, wisely pulled his starters after the first series, partly to rest them, partly to see whether Ben Roethlisberger could score an offseason touchdown playing against some reserves, the mascot, and Suzy Kolber (answer: no. Charlie Batch got the Steelers only touchdown with 1:36 remaining against Carolina's groundskeeping team.)

Until next time.

RROWRRRR!

Preseason Week 3: Tar Heel Terror Squad

2005-09-01T22:40:00.000-05:00

Never has the awesome power of nature been more apparent. With the levees breaking, hundreds of thousands found themselves refugees in a first-world country. With power, electricity, and sewage utilities out, with certain parishes off-limits for weeks, with a downtown that may not see dry sidewalks for months, with no estimated time of arrival for normalcy, many residents find themselves grappling with monumental questions, such as: do we ever go back? where will our children go to school? and, perhaps the most important question of all: where will the strippers dance now? how will they support their seemingly interminable college educations?

In short, what about da ho's?

Natural disasters bring out the best in people as well as the worst in people. Our firm is sending $400,000 to the relief effort. ExxonMobil is contributing $2m, which, given that the storm reduced the nation's refining capacity by 10%, amounts to a thank-you gift. And then there's the ugly side, the vandalism, the roving gangs, the widespread looting. It seems like the one factoid no one wants to talk about is that every image of a looter to date has been black. Which isn't representative--I heard that some Asians broke into an Office Depot and stole office supplies.

(You know what would be the perfect solution to this disaster? Aquaman. Seriously, the entire city is _under water_. In the old Superfriends cartoons, they were always stretching for ways to make him relevant, like, having the supervillain inexplicably have a lair floating in the middle of the ocean, or extorting the world by threatening to blow up a dam. He would be _perfect_! Someone call Bush.)

In a perfect storm of a different sort, America's team, your Carolina Panthers traveled to Cleveland to face the Browns. The excitement started in the first quarter, with Delhomme taking the Panthers the entire length of the field, leading to the most electrifying kicker in the business, John Kasay, drilling a 22-yd field goal! Panthers up by three! Later in the first, another exciting field goal! Panthers up by six! Could there be a third? Crowd on its feet in the second--three straight field goals for Carolina! One of the most exciting games of the year, and it's only the preseason!

Fun fact about Cleveland: last year, it was ranked as the poorest city in the nation by the Census Bureau. This year, Detroit takes that honor--fully 33% of its denizens live below the poverty line. Cleveland ranks 12th, with 23%. In fact, take away the Lions' three first-round wide receivers and the gap widens while Harrington's stats remain the same.

The Browns scored on a field goal and a touchdown drive, going up by one. With Romeo Crennel no longer standing beside him on the New England sidelines, Bill Belichik lost an outstanding defensive schemer as well as the slimming effect. Grey sweatshirts from here on out. Panthers respond with yet another amazing Delhomme drive, capped off with a pass to a resurgent Steve Smith--touchdown!

Did you ever buy a shirt because it looked like a must-have at the time, only to regret it later because you paid way too much for it and can't return it? Exhibit A: Kellen Winslow Jr.
After a listless 3Q, the backup squads came in. The Browns took the lead briefly before historical footnote Chris Weinke, in _the final minute of the game_, drills the Big Chill, Efrem Hill, with a 21-yd laser! Touchdown-ballgame-Panthers!

And finally, for a new feature this week: reader mail. Last week, reader Lopes in Miami said:
"What fantasy football web site are you plagiarizing from??? My draft is this weekend."

Good luck, Lopes! It sounds like a wonderful way to not meet women.

Until next time.

RROWRRRR!

Preseason Week 2: The Brothers Grimm

2005-08-31T18:42:00.000-05:00

Fans of America's Team, welcome back to another season of exciting Panther action! During the offseason, many of my fans all across the world were writing in, asking, "Is it true what they're saying about the steroids? Is the most fearsome defense in league history really doping?" And I'm happy to report that yesterday, Commissioner Paul Tagliabue found that the Panthers had no knowledge of steroid use by their players, and that punter Todd Sauerbrun's nuts are the size of raisins due to natural causes (it's popularly termed "Japan Syndrome").

A few quick observations on the first two weeks of the preseason:

LB Dan Morgan will have another freakish accident. Seriously, he's the kind of guy who could land awkwardly on his neck and end up tearing his Achilles. Fantasy footballers, this is my only warning.

DE Julius "Doctor" Peppers will be twice the monster he was last year. Did you see him almost rip Eli Manning's arm off last week? (Although can't you see GM Ernie Accorsi standing over Eli, screaming, his throwing arm lying in a pool of blood, going, "Yep. I'd still start him over Warner.")

Despite the worldwide hype about the return of WR Steve Smith (sidelined all of last season with a leg injury), watch for second-year WR Keary Colbert to become a legitimate offensive threat by midseason. Delhomme to Colbert will be the best second option since Ben Affleck started banging Jennifer Garner.

Theismann will spend at least ten minutes talking about Michael Vick during non-Falcon games.

Next week: more exciting preseason roundup!

3/30/05 Breaking news

2005-03-30T21:41:00.000-05:00

Many of you have seen a lot of the unfounded allegations being bandied about in the press about the Carolina Panthers and alleged steroid use, and have been asking me what I think. I've begun an independent investigation into the matter, which is close to concluding. Rest assured, once my findings can be made public, everyone will be exonerated, and you'll see that there was nothing to worry about. In the meantime, look at these cats.