The following is something I posted on March 1st of last year, when a scrappy Burnsville High hockey team was about to face off against the evil empire of Edina in the Section 2AA championship game. As luck (or bad luck, if you're using recent history as a guide) would have it, we find ourselves back in the exact same place today.
Tomorrow night marks the third meeting in five years between these teams with a state tournament berth on the line. Edina has won the last two, both of those games have gone to OT, and both ended up going the wrong direction in the eyes of this fan. Tomorrow night marks our shot at redemption, and chance to see our boys skate in St. Paul next week. Will the 3rd time be the charm? I sure hope so.
This one's for all the Old Dutch Rip-L chips
Another titanic struggle is brewing tomorrow evening, this time in the world of high school hockey. I don't want to oversell it, but in a world where protesting union workers can compare the govenor of Wisconsin to a totalitarian Egyptian dictator without even the slightest realization of how ridiculous they sound, I'd say Edina vs. Burnsville ranks somewhere between USA v. USSR and Blazin wings v. bowels on the rivalry scale. That's not intended as a comment on politics, but rather a comment on the proliferating use of hyperbole.
We all strive to make the things we love as epic as possible, look no further than any UFC poster. A mechanic and personal trainer squaring off and they're trying to sell it like it's Ali-Fraizer III. But hey, that's what generates buzz, so I'll just say that the people of Edina are pure evil. Pretty sure they caused the housing market to crash so they could bulldoze the foreclosed home in neighboring communities for tennis course (2012 note: This Strib story is backing me up! Sorta.) That hasn't been substantiated yet, but I got it from the same guy who told me Derek Jeter is on steroids, so fairly solid. And oh yeah, if there are any kids reading, Edina people make stew out of puppies and once kidnapped Santa Claus. Thankfully Chuck Norris freed him, can't remember if that was Delta Force 2 or 3.
Contrast this with the hard working, salt-of-the-Earth folks in Burnsville, and the right way to root should be pretty obvious. South-of-the-river is where the Real America starts, sure a lot of us only have two-car garages and neither side holds a Lexus, but we're a simple and honest folk who would give you the shirt off our back...provided that it wasn't below freezing. Edina is the land of boutiques, gallerias and restaurants named Salut, all centered around (wait for it) France Avenue. Can't make it up. Your high school nickname is the Hornets? Might as well be the Frogs. Bloomington is the buffer between us, the front lines if you will, and what do you find intersecting France as soon as you cross over 494 from Edina? That's right, AMERICAN BOULEVARD! USA! USA! USA!
Edina kids are like those silver spoon pricks from Harvard or Yale who end up being your boss. Matter of fact, if your boss is a prick, he's probably from Edina. If he's not, then he probably grew up there, but moved away when his trust fund got pulled for not being pretentious enough. Their hockey team is full of guys with first names like Anders and Marshall and J. Watkins Blowhard III. I only made one of those up.
Order a vodka tonic in an Edina bar, they'll put a parasol in it, order a Budweiser and they'll ask you to leave. Sure, they may have the pedigree, but we've got the toughness and determination, the Braves (they will always be the Braves to me) are due! I watched them play in this same semifinal, at the same arena, 3 years ago, and it went to OT before the bad guys won. It's time for history to turn in the other direction and send the black-and-gold on their way to St. Paul!
Was trying to come up with a sign idea for a game, it's not going so well. The first few rejects:
The South (Suburban Conference) shall rise again!
The Blaze are flaming!
It Burns when we PP!
(2012 note: A friend I was standing next to at the game actually yelled this one after Burnsville scored a tying power play goal during last year's game. We got some looks. It was awkward)
Your players may be Hornets, but your cheerleaders are Hors
Tell your mom to quit calling me, what happens at Redstone stays at Redstone
Yes, Edina fan, I spit in the sandwich I served you for lunch. Don't ask what was in the soup
To finish things off, a bit of extra motivation, I know this one's been done to death, but it fits so perfectly!
Go get em boys.
BURNS-VILLE! BURNS-VILLE! (clap clap clap-clap-clap)
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Friday, February 17, 2012
What's in a name?
Driving around the other day, I saw a restaurant named “Frankie’s”. This got me thinking about the names of things, and what they imply, because certain names only work for certain things. I mean, “Frankie’s” may be a fine name for a restaurant, but wouldn’t work nearly as well for a florist. This was further confirmed later in the evening when I mentioned the restaurant to a friend in passing, and he replied “that place had to be in a strip mall”. Indeed it was. Sometimes, you just know.
There have got to be thousands of businesses in the world that start with people’s names. Bars and restaurants are definitely the most common, seeming to be followed closely by auto mechanics and hair salons. But in truth, you can probably think of an example for just about anything. Last names are easy, if told you need to blindly choose between a meal at Pineida’s or Romano’s, you can probably figure out the type of fare served at each with no further information. First names are trickier, some fit and some don’t, depending on what type of commerce we’re talking about. Unless you live in South Boston or the Bronx, it’s doubtful you’ll be encountering Frankie’s Hair Salon anytime soon, and if you do, Frankie will likely be a large woman with garish fingernails and way too much makeup. At least that’s how I’m picturing her.
A lot of subtlety exists here, take one of America’s best known crafts stores, Michael’s. Would anyone stop in to buy glitter and other assorted cutesy items if the place was named Mike’s? Of course not, that would be ridiculous, Mike’s is the name of a hardware store, or if you want to irritate people, a bike shop. Michael’s Crafts? Well obviously. Mike’s Crafts? We’d better be talking about boats. Incidentally, this theory was almost blown up by the existence of Frank’s Nursery & Crafts, but the placement of the word ‘nursery’ there is key. This conjures an image of Frank, the old retiree who lives nextdoor and likes to work in his garden, seems to fit. I have a tougher time picturing Frank scrapbooking. Without the nursery, they would’ve had to name the place Frances’ Crafts, and a guy named Frances is a scrapbooker if ever there was one.
This phenomenon is perhaps best illustrated by the Joe/Joseph duality. Joe’s Crab Shack has paper placemats and goes for a beach-type feel. Joseph’s House of Crabs would have white tablecloths and a bathroom attendant. Would anyone ever consider buying a Joe Abboud suit at Joe A. Banks? Highly doubtful. But change them both to Joseph and you’re in business. Perhaps this resonates more with me because of my androgynous name, Pat. In fact the reason I know the meaning of the word ‘androgynous’ in the first place is because of that damned “It’s Pat” Saturday Night Live skit, which incidentally caused me to add a second ‘T’ to the end of my first name during the 3rd grade, in an attempt to masculinize it. That’s right, my first name was Patt for a few years there, even had it stitched on a jacket or two. To this day, I still have one friend who will greet me as “Paddie Two T’s”. In retrospect, I should’ve just gone with Patrick, but guys named Pat only get called that by family members and significant others. Seems cumbersome, and why should I have to give up my monosyllabic status because of a stupid, un-funny SNL skit that decided to bastardize my name at the worst possible time? I can still hear them at recess, “What’s that? It’s Pat.” Let’s move on before I start getting angry.
Admittedly, much of this post is a bit of a ripoff from this great George Carlin bit (apologies for the language, or if you happen to have one of the names mentioned), but thinking about businesses also makes it a bit different. Trying to recall odd combinations and perfect fits over the last day or so, the first that sprung to mind was my favorite breakfast restaurant, Fat Nat’s. I have never met Nat, so I cannot attest to him being fat, but I do know that if you ate there every day, you would be. The other side of the coin is Vincent A Restaurant, which by some accounts has Minneapolis’ best hamburger. Now it’s a great burger, that’s not the debate, and Vincent A is a fine name for a restaurant. It’s just that if you were playing word association, burger isn’t what would pop up when you see the name “Vincent A Restaurant”. Matt’s Bar on the other hand? Well there you go.
Two more quick name-related thoughts, as I’m not quite sure where this ramble is leading:
After attending the Minnesota Wild game last night, their name should be changed to the Minnesota Mild, not just for the alliteration, but because that’s what they truly are. Lately they lose a lot of shootouts, the ultimate “well, we lost, but I guess it’s not that bad” sorta moment. In other words, meh.
I was shocked to learn that Newt Gingrich was born in Pennsylvania, as Newt just seems like a quintessential Southern name. Then again, Mitt Romney sounds like a 19th-century baseball player, so maybe it’s best not to read too much into it.
As you can probably tell, the lack of entertainment from the sports teams in this town are causing my mind to wander further afield these days.
Happy Friday.
There have got to be thousands of businesses in the world that start with people’s names. Bars and restaurants are definitely the most common, seeming to be followed closely by auto mechanics and hair salons. But in truth, you can probably think of an example for just about anything. Last names are easy, if told you need to blindly choose between a meal at Pineida’s or Romano’s, you can probably figure out the type of fare served at each with no further information. First names are trickier, some fit and some don’t, depending on what type of commerce we’re talking about. Unless you live in South Boston or the Bronx, it’s doubtful you’ll be encountering Frankie’s Hair Salon anytime soon, and if you do, Frankie will likely be a large woman with garish fingernails and way too much makeup. At least that’s how I’m picturing her.
A lot of subtlety exists here, take one of America’s best known crafts stores, Michael’s. Would anyone stop in to buy glitter and other assorted cutesy items if the place was named Mike’s? Of course not, that would be ridiculous, Mike’s is the name of a hardware store, or if you want to irritate people, a bike shop. Michael’s Crafts? Well obviously. Mike’s Crafts? We’d better be talking about boats. Incidentally, this theory was almost blown up by the existence of Frank’s Nursery & Crafts, but the placement of the word ‘nursery’ there is key. This conjures an image of Frank, the old retiree who lives nextdoor and likes to work in his garden, seems to fit. I have a tougher time picturing Frank scrapbooking. Without the nursery, they would’ve had to name the place Frances’ Crafts, and a guy named Frances is a scrapbooker if ever there was one.
This phenomenon is perhaps best illustrated by the Joe/Joseph duality. Joe’s Crab Shack has paper placemats and goes for a beach-type feel. Joseph’s House of Crabs would have white tablecloths and a bathroom attendant. Would anyone ever consider buying a Joe Abboud suit at Joe A. Banks? Highly doubtful. But change them both to Joseph and you’re in business. Perhaps this resonates more with me because of my androgynous name, Pat. In fact the reason I know the meaning of the word ‘androgynous’ in the first place is because of that damned “It’s Pat” Saturday Night Live skit, which incidentally caused me to add a second ‘T’ to the end of my first name during the 3rd grade, in an attempt to masculinize it. That’s right, my first name was Patt for a few years there, even had it stitched on a jacket or two. To this day, I still have one friend who will greet me as “Paddie Two T’s”. In retrospect, I should’ve just gone with Patrick, but guys named Pat only get called that by family members and significant others. Seems cumbersome, and why should I have to give up my monosyllabic status because of a stupid, un-funny SNL skit that decided to bastardize my name at the worst possible time? I can still hear them at recess, “What’s that? It’s Pat.” Let’s move on before I start getting angry.
Admittedly, much of this post is a bit of a ripoff from this great George Carlin bit (apologies for the language, or if you happen to have one of the names mentioned), but thinking about businesses also makes it a bit different. Trying to recall odd combinations and perfect fits over the last day or so, the first that sprung to mind was my favorite breakfast restaurant, Fat Nat’s. I have never met Nat, so I cannot attest to him being fat, but I do know that if you ate there every day, you would be. The other side of the coin is Vincent A Restaurant, which by some accounts has Minneapolis’ best hamburger. Now it’s a great burger, that’s not the debate, and Vincent A is a fine name for a restaurant. It’s just that if you were playing word association, burger isn’t what would pop up when you see the name “Vincent A Restaurant”. Matt’s Bar on the other hand? Well there you go.
Two more quick name-related thoughts, as I’m not quite sure where this ramble is leading:
After attending the Minnesota Wild game last night, their name should be changed to the Minnesota Mild, not just for the alliteration, but because that’s what they truly are. Lately they lose a lot of shootouts, the ultimate “well, we lost, but I guess it’s not that bad” sorta moment. In other words, meh.
I was shocked to learn that Newt Gingrich was born in Pennsylvania, as Newt just seems like a quintessential Southern name. Then again, Mitt Romney sounds like a 19th-century baseball player, so maybe it’s best not to read too much into it.
As you can probably tell, the lack of entertainment from the sports teams in this town are causing my mind to wander further afield these days.
Happy Friday.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Shut up and play ball
So today is Valentine's Day, or as I like to refer to it, The Day Single People Sit Around Bars Staring At Each Other And Wondering What The Fatal Flaw Is. It's almost like walking around a prison yard.
"What are you in for?"
"I get blackout drunk and start throwing things. You?"
"Insecure narcissist, rare combination, fatal to personal lives."
Make no mistake, if you're sitting someplace alone tonight, then you're doing life wrong.
The problem is, there are a whole host of other things that also indicate you're doing it wrong, but ironically these are the very things you need to do to ensure you're not alone on V-Day. Going to a church instead of watching football, sitting through any show featuring singing, dancing or the word "housewives" and being spoken to as if you were a small, slow child are a few that can make solitude the preferable choice. Matter of fact, depending on who you're dealing with, a swift kick in the nuts might be the preferable choice.
Not that any of these things are a constant part of a relationship, but odds are you will have to them, or things like them, on a regular basis should you hope to maintain one. The great myth of the world is that men are somehow running things; spend a day with any couple and that notion becomes laughable. Not that this is a bad thing, often times unsupervised men are a fairly self-destructive bunch. Sure we've got some nice things on our resume, killing mammoths, building stuff, curing disease (not to mention all the mice and spider issues solved over the years), but generally seem to need that female GPS to keep things pointed in the right direction.
Take the Panama Canal, for example. If left to their own devices, all the guys contracted to build it would've got down to Panama, started effing off, enjoying the warm weather, drinking, and nothing would've been accomplished. Only the thought of their wife's reaction to them returning home after 6 months with no paycheck kept them on task, if not for that, no Canal. You can see it on a small scale every day, I'd wager that 90% of the intelligent decisions men make are centered around making or keeping a woman happy. The other 10% are based on the desire to afford a faster car or larger television.
Laugh if you want, but I'd bet anything the guy who ends up curing cancer is finally kicking it in the ass to finish medical school this semester because he needs to buy a wedding ring, or risk the woman he lives with walking. That Evolution of Man painting should have a woman standing on the right side with her arms crossed, tapping her foot. Again, I don't bring up this point to cause offense, paint women as shrewish, any of that. Only to highlight an evolution is my own way of thinking, which is to say, the stuff I used to mock guys for doing doesn't sound so intolerable any more. At least not when you consider the alternative.
Valentine's Day is a perfect example of the type of thing I used to rail against. While you have to tip your cap to the savvy businesspeople who've marketed the concept, it is, by and large, a scam. Prescribing a certain date on which tokens of affection are required to be exchanged is the perfect way to ensure you could jack the price up at exactly the right moment. If Hallmark and Russel Stover throwing huge marketing budgets behind a hyped up "holiday" make it required, then Guiness and Jameson should do the same for St. Paddy's. Unfortunately I don't think Car Bombs are ever going to be afforded the same mandatory status as roses (but I can dream!).
Sure, you can argue that it's a nice show of appreciation for your significant other, but isn't that what an anniversary is supposed to be for? If you're an inconsiderate f*ck the majority of the year, do flowers and a nice dinner on a Tuesday in February tilt the scales?
In truth, this day means little in the big picture, but the options have been laid out quite clearly: Shut up and play ball, or protest and perish. In the past, I've taken a stand on principle and gone the second route; I probably don't have to explain just how poorly this has served me.
Now it's time for fresh tactics. All that I ask is when you see me at a Farmer's Market some fall Sunday, holding a purse, with that glazed/stifled irritation expression that most men perfected much earlier in life, take it easy. Just smirk and nod, we'll both know I'm a fraud, be content in that knowledge.
But not the Housewive show, some things are too far beyond the pale, if forced to watch that, it's the black pill and don't look back.
"What are you in for?"
"I get blackout drunk and start throwing things. You?"
"Insecure narcissist, rare combination, fatal to personal lives."
Make no mistake, if you're sitting someplace alone tonight, then you're doing life wrong.
The problem is, there are a whole host of other things that also indicate you're doing it wrong, but ironically these are the very things you need to do to ensure you're not alone on V-Day. Going to a church instead of watching football, sitting through any show featuring singing, dancing or the word "housewives" and being spoken to as if you were a small, slow child are a few that can make solitude the preferable choice. Matter of fact, depending on who you're dealing with, a swift kick in the nuts might be the preferable choice.
Not that any of these things are a constant part of a relationship, but odds are you will have to them, or things like them, on a regular basis should you hope to maintain one. The great myth of the world is that men are somehow running things; spend a day with any couple and that notion becomes laughable. Not that this is a bad thing, often times unsupervised men are a fairly self-destructive bunch. Sure we've got some nice things on our resume, killing mammoths, building stuff, curing disease (not to mention all the mice and spider issues solved over the years), but generally seem to need that female GPS to keep things pointed in the right direction.
Take the Panama Canal, for example. If left to their own devices, all the guys contracted to build it would've got down to Panama, started effing off, enjoying the warm weather, drinking, and nothing would've been accomplished. Only the thought of their wife's reaction to them returning home after 6 months with no paycheck kept them on task, if not for that, no Canal. You can see it on a small scale every day, I'd wager that 90% of the intelligent decisions men make are centered around making or keeping a woman happy. The other 10% are based on the desire to afford a faster car or larger television.
Laugh if you want, but I'd bet anything the guy who ends up curing cancer is finally kicking it in the ass to finish medical school this semester because he needs to buy a wedding ring, or risk the woman he lives with walking. That Evolution of Man painting should have a woman standing on the right side with her arms crossed, tapping her foot. Again, I don't bring up this point to cause offense, paint women as shrewish, any of that. Only to highlight an evolution is my own way of thinking, which is to say, the stuff I used to mock guys for doing doesn't sound so intolerable any more. At least not when you consider the alternative.
Valentine's Day is a perfect example of the type of thing I used to rail against. While you have to tip your cap to the savvy businesspeople who've marketed the concept, it is, by and large, a scam. Prescribing a certain date on which tokens of affection are required to be exchanged is the perfect way to ensure you could jack the price up at exactly the right moment. If Hallmark and Russel Stover throwing huge marketing budgets behind a hyped up "holiday" make it required, then Guiness and Jameson should do the same for St. Paddy's. Unfortunately I don't think Car Bombs are ever going to be afforded the same mandatory status as roses (but I can dream!).
Sure, you can argue that it's a nice show of appreciation for your significant other, but isn't that what an anniversary is supposed to be for? If you're an inconsiderate f*ck the majority of the year, do flowers and a nice dinner on a Tuesday in February tilt the scales?
In truth, this day means little in the big picture, but the options have been laid out quite clearly: Shut up and play ball, or protest and perish. In the past, I've taken a stand on principle and gone the second route; I probably don't have to explain just how poorly this has served me.
Now it's time for fresh tactics. All that I ask is when you see me at a Farmer's Market some fall Sunday, holding a purse, with that glazed/stifled irritation expression that most men perfected much earlier in life, take it easy. Just smirk and nod, we'll both know I'm a fraud, be content in that knowledge.
But not the Housewive show, some things are too far beyond the pale, if forced to watch that, it's the black pill and don't look back.
Friday, February 10, 2012
No fight left in me
Here I was, all set to dive into a great weekend of college hockey matchups, when once again, the Fighting Sioux controversy had to rear its ugly head. Instead of hearing about the pivotal weekend hockey series coming up with Duluth, the whole week has been a stream of angry bickering over something that appeared to be over and done. I can’t even remember how long this has been going on, is it year 6? Year 7? Regardless of the particulars, there is only one answer needed: Far too long.
Don’t get me wrong, I would’ve loved to see the name stay, and think the whole thing has been handled unfairly, but when is enough enough? Anyone who’s been paying attention knows that the NCAA is completely full of sh*t as an organization, that’s never been up for debate. But then again, so is Congress, and they run the country, so why is the idea of an inept and unresponsive governing body such a shock? Incidentally, the NCAA may be the only organization with a lower approval rating.
Did they tweak the rules from day one to exempt bowl games, their greatest cash cow, hiding behind the definition of a “NCAA sanctioned postseason”? Yes. Did they stir up fake morality to make it appear as though they cared, in order to take the focus off players committing crimes on campuses, coaches making a mockery of recruiting rules, the fact that they make billions off of unpaid laborers and the lack of a football tournament? Probably. But as your parents used to tell you, life isn’t fair, it’s called power, and they have it all in this situation. Get used to it, or take your ball and go home.
While it’s unfortunate that the second tribe required to give approval has never been allowed to vote, there isn’t much that can be done there. I’d like to give even then most ardent nickname supporter the benefit of the doubt, and assume that if the majority of the Sioux people felt it was an insult, rather than an honor, they’d agree to retire it yesterday, and move on. That would’ve been the easiest way to end the debate years ago, but for some reason it hasn’t happened. A cynic would say that is because the powers that be wouldn’t like the result. It’s a bit underhanded, and once again draws to mind our lawmakers, refusing to bring a motion to the floor, for fear they may have to take a firm opinion. But once again, them’s the rules, life isn’t fair, move on.
At this late date, after formally giving the name up once already, you’re making everyone associated with the University of North Dakota look dumb. I know you have an emotional connection to the nickname, I know it’s tough to hear Bison and Gopher fans mock you with the “Fighting Whioux?” jabs, but for the greater good of things, let this go. I can honestly say that I’ve done so. Even passed a man outside of Englestad Arena a few weeks ago who was gathering signatures for his petition without a moment’s thought of signing. Walking into the game with the two biggest UND fans I know, the shared sentiment was: Why can’t people just let this go?
I’m not a purveyor of perspective, or an ocean of calm, when it comes to sports. I flip my lid sometimes, get mad and act stupidly, I’m well aware of my shortcomings. But when it comes to taking the inconsequential to far, I cannot hold a candle to this crowd. The University of North Dakota is about more than a logo and a nickname, and acting like those two things are so important marginalizes everything else associated with it. The name was great, and worthy of the love you have for it, but the school itself is too, and what’s happening here is going to hurt it in the long run.
Be pissed if you want, withhold donations, scream and yell and stomp your feet. But get out of the way, it’s time to move forward.
Don’t get me wrong, I would’ve loved to see the name stay, and think the whole thing has been handled unfairly, but when is enough enough? Anyone who’s been paying attention knows that the NCAA is completely full of sh*t as an organization, that’s never been up for debate. But then again, so is Congress, and they run the country, so why is the idea of an inept and unresponsive governing body such a shock? Incidentally, the NCAA may be the only organization with a lower approval rating.
Did they tweak the rules from day one to exempt bowl games, their greatest cash cow, hiding behind the definition of a “NCAA sanctioned postseason”? Yes. Did they stir up fake morality to make it appear as though they cared, in order to take the focus off players committing crimes on campuses, coaches making a mockery of recruiting rules, the fact that they make billions off of unpaid laborers and the lack of a football tournament? Probably. But as your parents used to tell you, life isn’t fair, it’s called power, and they have it all in this situation. Get used to it, or take your ball and go home.
While it’s unfortunate that the second tribe required to give approval has never been allowed to vote, there isn’t much that can be done there. I’d like to give even then most ardent nickname supporter the benefit of the doubt, and assume that if the majority of the Sioux people felt it was an insult, rather than an honor, they’d agree to retire it yesterday, and move on. That would’ve been the easiest way to end the debate years ago, but for some reason it hasn’t happened. A cynic would say that is because the powers that be wouldn’t like the result. It’s a bit underhanded, and once again draws to mind our lawmakers, refusing to bring a motion to the floor, for fear they may have to take a firm opinion. But once again, them’s the rules, life isn’t fair, move on.
At this late date, after formally giving the name up once already, you’re making everyone associated with the University of North Dakota look dumb. I know you have an emotional connection to the nickname, I know it’s tough to hear Bison and Gopher fans mock you with the “Fighting Whioux?” jabs, but for the greater good of things, let this go. I can honestly say that I’ve done so. Even passed a man outside of Englestad Arena a few weeks ago who was gathering signatures for his petition without a moment’s thought of signing. Walking into the game with the two biggest UND fans I know, the shared sentiment was: Why can’t people just let this go?
I’m not a purveyor of perspective, or an ocean of calm, when it comes to sports. I flip my lid sometimes, get mad and act stupidly, I’m well aware of my shortcomings. But when it comes to taking the inconsequential to far, I cannot hold a candle to this crowd. The University of North Dakota is about more than a logo and a nickname, and acting like those two things are so important marginalizes everything else associated with it. The name was great, and worthy of the love you have for it, but the school itself is too, and what’s happening here is going to hurt it in the long run.
Be pissed if you want, withhold donations, scream and yell and stomp your feet. But get out of the way, it’s time to move forward.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Super thoughts
First of, they've gotta either move the Super Bowl to a Saturday, or declare the Monday following it a national holiday, it would be way more fun.
Was it really the unbelievable game a lot of people are saying it was? Close game, good game, for sure, but unbelievable? If the Pats rally back to win, then we’re in unbelievable territory, as of now, it was just a good game, and that’s about it.
I’m still a bit conflicted about the safety to open the game, guess I can go with it because there really wasn’t a receiver close, but something about it still seemed kind of weak. Not to mention, it’s a different game if the Giants are down 4, instead of 2, late in the game. That called played a bigger role in the game than I would've liked.
Speaking of the final moments, New England should’ve let them score much earlier. They eventually did, but it was too late to make a difference, and they burned a timeout in the process. Just let a guy run free behind the secondary with two minutes left and I bet they win, a field goal was inevitable at that point anyway, Billy Cundiff doesn’t kick for the Giants.
Where was Peyton Manning hiding during the game? Bunker someplace? I was astonished to not see 50 different shots of him at various points, guessing the producer of the game felt the same way, quite the chunk of time to fill.
Commercials featuring dogs are winners. There were a whole lot of crappy commercials yesterday, but every one that featured a dog was gold, take note advertising people. The Fiat commercial with the hot Italian broad seemed like a winner, until they showed the car. In order to properly equate things, she should’ve been a of hobbit-sized proportions like the guy she was slapping around.
Vikings, please do not give Mario Manningham a 4-year, $20 million contract this offseason. I know you want to, because you're desperate at WR, but DO NOT DO IT! He is what he is, a nice 2nd or 3rd option who makes some plays, gets hurt too often, and won’t be nearly as effective if asked to be The Guy. In other words, Bernard Berrian 2.0
How many times can a team fumble without the opponent falling on one of them? I’m not sure, but the Giants looked like they wanted to find out. Uncomfortable flashbacks to Fumblaya (aka, the 2010 NFC Championship game) there.
With the Packers winning last year, and the Giants this season, the NFL regular season is officially rendered mostly moot. Not totally, since you do have to at least qualify for the playoffs, and there still are fantasy championships to be decided, but winning more than 10 games is meaningless. Get in the playoffs and you can win the title, pure and simple.
Reading through all the prop bets before the game makes me furious I can’t legally bet on sports in one of the many nearby casinos. I wanted to throw $10 on a safety being the first score of the game at 16-to-1, but it needs to be in person, gambling on the internet just isn’t the same. And yes, one season of being able to legally gamble on football would likely make me furious that local casinos allow it.
The official glass half-empty/half-full thought of the week: It will be seven months before another football game happens, but pitchers and catchers report in two weeks, the Final Five happens in six weeks and the NHL playoffs are a scant two months away!
Was it really the unbelievable game a lot of people are saying it was? Close game, good game, for sure, but unbelievable? If the Pats rally back to win, then we’re in unbelievable territory, as of now, it was just a good game, and that’s about it.
I’m still a bit conflicted about the safety to open the game, guess I can go with it because there really wasn’t a receiver close, but something about it still seemed kind of weak. Not to mention, it’s a different game if the Giants are down 4, instead of 2, late in the game. That called played a bigger role in the game than I would've liked.
Speaking of the final moments, New England should’ve let them score much earlier. They eventually did, but it was too late to make a difference, and they burned a timeout in the process. Just let a guy run free behind the secondary with two minutes left and I bet they win, a field goal was inevitable at that point anyway, Billy Cundiff doesn’t kick for the Giants.
Where was Peyton Manning hiding during the game? Bunker someplace? I was astonished to not see 50 different shots of him at various points, guessing the producer of the game felt the same way, quite the chunk of time to fill.
Commercials featuring dogs are winners. There were a whole lot of crappy commercials yesterday, but every one that featured a dog was gold, take note advertising people. The Fiat commercial with the hot Italian broad seemed like a winner, until they showed the car. In order to properly equate things, she should’ve been a of hobbit-sized proportions like the guy she was slapping around.
Vikings, please do not give Mario Manningham a 4-year, $20 million contract this offseason. I know you want to, because you're desperate at WR, but DO NOT DO IT! He is what he is, a nice 2nd or 3rd option who makes some plays, gets hurt too often, and won’t be nearly as effective if asked to be The Guy. In other words, Bernard Berrian 2.0
How many times can a team fumble without the opponent falling on one of them? I’m not sure, but the Giants looked like they wanted to find out. Uncomfortable flashbacks to Fumblaya (aka, the 2010 NFC Championship game) there.
With the Packers winning last year, and the Giants this season, the NFL regular season is officially rendered mostly moot. Not totally, since you do have to at least qualify for the playoffs, and there still are fantasy championships to be decided, but winning more than 10 games is meaningless. Get in the playoffs and you can win the title, pure and simple.
Reading through all the prop bets before the game makes me furious I can’t legally bet on sports in one of the many nearby casinos. I wanted to throw $10 on a safety being the first score of the game at 16-to-1, but it needs to be in person, gambling on the internet just isn’t the same. And yes, one season of being able to legally gamble on football would likely make me furious that local casinos allow it.
The official glass half-empty/half-full thought of the week: It will be seven months before another football game happens, but pitchers and catchers report in two weeks, the Final Five happens in six weeks and the NHL playoffs are a scant two months away!
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