Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Somewhere between watching the Monday Night Football pregame show, clad in Eagles jersey and Eagles throw as though I were getting paid to look like a green clown of some odd sort and laughing as the Philly fans started to boo ON THE VERY FIRST PLAY OF THE GAME, and waking up a much-needed nine hours later, something strange happened.
The Eagles actually won the football game (though they booed their starting QB at one point when he actually stayed in the game after a hard hit-- though I guess that part wasn't all that surprising).
This was not a football game they had any business being in, either. Because these men... like a certain someone who we all know and love... they are broken in the collective.
How they beat a playoff-caliber team (and how I got nine hours sleep in the process!) is beyond me. But I'll take it. I'm not one of those "lose as much as you can so you can make wholesale changes and/or get a high draft pick" people.
Not now, anyway.
After all, this is a playoff team!
By the way, Keyshawn?
Just because we've been preoccupied with a certain other buffoon for a few years now, doesn't mean we don't have enough hate in our heart for you. Especially when you apparently spent the entire night, before the game and during, on the field and off, taunting the fans. From the Philly Inquirer:
"ESPN sideline reporter Michelle Tafoya reported at halftime that Johnson went down the tunnel taunting the Linc crowd about his success in Philadelphia, as a Buc, a Cowboy and a Panther. Johnson ended his evening pleading with officials for a pass-interference call, after he lost a jousting battle with Sheppard."
Hope you enjoyed your flight home, Meshawn.
Better news, news in the "I Feel Great!!!" realm, to be precise: Pat Croce was just named the new commissioner of this year's Wing Bowl.
A fantastic selection: kudos to those responsible for the choice.
It has started to get cold here in D.C., but I can't really complain, as apparently my sister is guiding little Ryan through his first winter, and... it's seventeen degrees or so in Columbus as she's doing so.
Michelle, if you're taking Ryan outside, are you putting him in fifteen layers of clothing, or sixteen?
'Cause I've heard it's best to layer.
Mom and Dad called to report in from Disney.
Apparently, my Dad found his way into the goddamned MLB winter meetings. Bumped into Jayson Stark, saw Peter Gammons, the odd team owner here or there, Mom was able to pick out Dallas Green...
And today is a golf day.
And it's eighty degrees.
I'm not jealous, though. Really, I'm not.
This link should be enough to tide you over 'til tomorrow, to say the least. Thanks to Pop Candy (what else is new), please check out the 50 greatest commercials of the 80s.