Ah, the end of the NFL season. If your team isn’t in it, at this point you’re just trying to find the remaining team who you hate the least.
That can be hard. No help as usual, the media does its thing, trying to make what’s left fun for those without stake in the games.
This week they told you that Jim Harbaugh wears $8 khakis. Shocker: Jim Harbaugh isn’t Billy Zane.
They regurgitated a season-long story of little Wes Welker, caught in the middle of a bad divorce.
Thanks to “The Great Fivehead” Peyton Manning and “The Great and Beautiful” Tom Brady we all get to watch the overdone storylines of a superficial NFL Flims episode this Sunday.
“Two Hall of Famers, pitted against each other on top of a mountain, with glorious accuracy, they’ll toss footballs down at all their lowly servant receivers — these receivers don’t have names, they’re simply gears used to raise up these Quarterbacks in their neverending battle for inconsequential greatness.
After days of competition, neither man succumbs to a humanly incompletion and the two beings remain inseparable.
White-robed writers, sitting on clouds, question until the end of time just what this could mean. Actually how good are these two wonderful men at their sport? What will they never prove to us that they haven’t already not proven? What matter is it that what they’ve already done is in itself more than sufficient as an accomplishment at the very topmost level of their field of competition that is football?”
It’s exhausting because it is.
We’ve all seen this one before, regardless of how it ends.
Cut back to glittery screen (for some reason CBS uses glittery screen as an effect for football games): John Fox had a heart attack, but he’s here because, well, re-entering the stressful situation that brought on your first near-death experience a few short months later seems like a good decision.
Jim Nantz repeats bunch of words he said two years ago and five years ago and six years ago about the two quarterbacks. Nantz somehow makes football as boring as the Masters without all the pretty green grass at Augusta and as akward as being in the room while a co-worker is fired.
Announcers will say some form of the phrase “doesn’t get any better than this,” or “how good are these two quarterbacks,” that makes you feel like you’re watching football while spun on a vomit-inducing carnival ride.
Only matching the unlikability of the trash talk party Seahawks-Niners NFC Championship is the dull formula awaiting us in the AFC title game.
Manning-Brady sounds like a Brady Bunch spinoff sitcom featuring a corny law firm.
Peyton: “I don’t blame you for being nervous, Mr. Brady. This is a very important Sunday,” to Brady who is shoveling sugar into his coffee.
Tom: “Why should I be nervous? What makes you think I’m nervous?”
Peyton: “It’s the first time I ever saw you take 21 spoons of sugar.”
…Laugh track plays…
Brady, dragging behind him his bunch of misfits on their children-at-the-mall leashes, lifts the Patriots all the way to the AFC title game in some sort of magic trick.
He and Belichick apparently know something the entire AFC doesn’t about football because New England is there every year, to the dismay of everyone and the boredom of Boston fans.
Something no one ever said: Pats fans aren’t even annoying anymore. They don’t care, and why should they? Sir Charles Barkley called them “unnappreciative,” with expletives, last week after their win.
No drama. It’s hard to care when you expect something to happen every year. Like another birthday for someone who’s over 40, minus the steadily increasing awareness of what age is.
I want Tom Brady to win a Super Bowl, re-awakening my dislike for him.
No one had any emotion last year when Flacco won the Super Bowl because it was all part of a weird dream where we didn’t know what to think. Ray Lewis, reputed bad person, gets to ride off into the sunset behind some ruse cooked up during a 30-mintue blackout and Beyonce was there.
It’s uninspired culmination for the multi-billion dollar industry leading American sports. So watch your Manning-Brady robots throwing footballs with unlikely but at this point not-surprising precision.
It will be a close game, maybe decided on a final drive. No one will be intrigued unless one of those yahoos throws five picks, which won’t happen.
At least Denver deserves to be there this year. Distaste for the Broncos across the rest of the country — not Wyoming and Colorado and such — has abated since Tim Tebow tomfoolery ended.
If they win this year, it’s whatever because I guess they deserve it.