S Sean Taylor Dead at 24

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

Week 8: Vinny in Real Life

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

Week 4: The Game Plan

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

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

Week 1: Shoot 'Em Up

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!

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