In about 16 hours, the New Orleans Saints and Indianapolis Colts will kick off, and all will be forgiven, at least for a time — we will forget about the stupidity apparent in the methods of Dictator Goodell (until further notice), as Peyton Manning and Drew Brees line up for some serious gunslinging against secondaries of questionable merit on both sides. Nothing better than starting off the year with what looks to be an offensive orgy on a Thursday night, hopefully driven by the notable man on your right as well. (I’m taking the Saints at +6 odds; this game will be closer than a touchdown with both sides dodgy on the cornerbacks.)
The only problem is that I will be at work. But, since I work for an NBC station, we’ll have the game on, as it pre-empts the news out West, and my eyes will be on it as often as possible.
So, it’s time to return to the church, brothers and sisters, to crack open that beer, pour that shot of whiskey, make sure you’ve got enough chasers on hand, and yell at the TV screen once again. It’s time to wonder how many analysts are enough for NBC’s booth, question whether John Madden has completely gone senile yet, and make sure you know whether Jerome Bettis is from Detroit or not. The time has come to bitch at your lame-ass coach through the TV, question your quarterback’s manhood if he’s intercepted, and mock your friends in person as their teams get shot down by the horrific realization of constant suckage.
It’s time for another year of lame-ass jokes by Terry Bradshaw, unintelligible mumblings by Shannon Sharpe, and severe redundancies from the mouth of the Buckbot Jr. We are ready to mock the Browns’ ineptitude, laugh at the insanity of Raider fans, and speculate wildly about which coach will get the ax first (we’re putting money on Gruden or Crennel.) Let’s find out if Vince Young can avoid the Madden Curse; let’s see if Ocho Cinco breaks out the touchdown dance to end all touchdown dances, fines be damned. We’re ready to find out which starting QB won’t have his job in six weeks or less (Charlie Frye and Jake Delhomme, we’re looking at you two.) It’s time to watch Tom Brady and Brett Favre get slurped relentlessly by every color analyst and sideline reporter when they play, and T.O. get demonized unfairly about three-quarters of the time.
NFL, we’ve missed you so much. Can I get a motherfuckin’ “Hallelujah?”