Week 2: The Greatest Game Never Played

Nacho: "What happened I blacked out."

Far be it from the SportsBrethren to accuse the CBS graphics guys of having bet their engagement ring fund on the Panthers offense today...but that's exactly what happened.*

Whew. Thank God. For a second there I thought we got torched by the Houston fucking Texans. Luckily, it was all just a hallucinogenic side effect of a wings and beer. I knew, despite what my bleary eyes showed me, that the Carolina Panthers couldn't have shit the bed that badly. Luckily, CBS snapped me out of my stupor and showed me what really happened:

I shot up from the couch. That's my boys. Freshly made biscuits for all, Steve & the Cajun connected four times!!! Turns out we might not have even scored four times at all. Either way, I've been working redonkulously hard all week and despite my Cats demise, I can always fall back on the fact that the season is young. The Texans may be for real, and if our only loss comes to the eventual AFC Division champ, so be it.


Thanks, CBS, for the greatest game never played.

Brethren: Houston puts up 34 unanswered points before finally finishing off our Cats 34-21. Without Steve Smith, we would have lost 34-0. Ewww. So what the fudd happened?

We have our theories.



Brethren (cont'd): I suppose having a threesome just won't happen for me. Oh, not that kind. I mean, a weekend where Virginia, Florida, and the Panthers all win.

See, yesterday was a fantastic football day for me. I met up with some friends at a bar to watch the second half of Virginia's win over Carolina. Unbeknownst to me, the bar we were watching the game at is also a Gators bar. So after UVA sealed the win, I looked around to find the bar packed with Gator fans and the bartender ripping off his Emmitt Smith jersey to reveal a shirt that just said, "Gators, bitches!" with a picture of Paris Hilton. I had no idea what that meant but I soon realized I might have died and gone to Heaven.

The bartender continued to get more drunk as the Gators rolled up on the dastardly Vols. The Florida fight song, Gator cheers, and free drinks were all flowing nonstop through the bar. My parents were at the game; I had several friends texting me from the game. I think I made a Tennesse fan cry as I was texting/talking shit to her. All was grand. Free Jaegar shots and several free pitchers later (thanks, drunk bartender!) with a 59-20 win in hand, I went home to pass out and miss out on a potentially fantastic night on the town (three birthday parties, an open bar, Sammy in town -- slept right thru 'em all). So Saturday rocked.

Fast forward to today; woke up early to devour all the media coverage of the Panthers and the Gators. Got on the crosstown bus to go meet my buddy on the West side to watch the game. All to watch that shitshow. My bulleted thoughts:

- The early NFL season is quite befuddling. I don't know if I should start a warm bath, drink a bottle of Red Wine and slowly slip away or just shrug and say, "Well shit, maybe Houston's good." I think I'm going with the latter.

- But wait? Houston's good? Fuck me sideways. I went to UVA so I know the (relative) power of the Schaub, but still.

- True story: Schaub bought me a Jaegarbomb when I was at UVA and he was a first-year Falcon. He later got arrested that night for starting a fight. That's the shit that goes down when you start drankin' with this guy.

- I hope you're happy, Woody. My boy Woodrow called me as I was going to the bar, and he simply told me, "I hope you win, but I have both Steve Smith and Andre Johnson on my fantasy teams, so as long as they play well, I'm good." Five touchdowns, 273 yards between them later and I hope you're good. Bastard.

- Consecutive texts I sent to Nacho and his Left Coast crew as the game was slipping away in the third quarter:
- "Fuck me in the ear" (after the special teams fumble)
- "Well shit I don't even know who to blame"
- "34 unanswered points??"
- "Ew. Is Houston good?"

- Didn't we draft Dwayne Jarrett so we wouldn't have to play Keary Colbert anymore? How many years do I have to get sucked into the "Colbert's good this year!" stories before I finally realize? 3? 4? 10? Is there an end in sight?

- Can't we just clone Steve Smith?

- Well, at least we play Hotlanta next week.

- His name is Tim Tebow. All your boobz are belong to Tim Tebow.

Nacho: Here's some wider pics of CBS's wishful thinking:




































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* = Don't worry man, she'll come around