Beyond a few obvious, cheap, and decidedly unfunny jokes centered on the Mexico City location for tonight's game, I thought I would have nothing for this week's installment. The inchoate disappointment of millions weighed on me like... like... something very heavy. Perhaps a large bag of soil. The masses were starting to actually clamor (with the exception of most people who read this blog, who hate sports, and therefore themselves).
And then Jamie Winborn was given the heave-ho. And Mike Rumph was demoted, subsequently tearing some sort of crucial tendamon, or liganament, or in his foot. Mike Nolan will tolerate no dissent. Mike Nolan will suffer no nonchalance. Mike Nolan runs this sinking ship. Mike Nolan is a fucking idiot. Mike Nolan can stand with dignity on the sideline tonight, wearing a Reebok-festooned seersucker suit (can you think of those words without hearing Mick Jagger sneering "seeeeeahsuhcka sewt"? I can't), and he can trounce the Cardinals by ninety points, and he will still be a fucking idiot.
No matter what happens tonight, I promise you that the approximately 380,000 fans crammed into Azteca Stadium tonight will begin to rethink their excitement about Futbol Americano. Wait a sec, they will think, doesn't NAFTA have some provision barring Tim Rattay from crossing our borders? Wasn't screwing our corn farmers enough?
Sunday, October 02, 2005
The Road to 4-12, Week Four
