Brethren: Good Lord, that was a roller coaster. I haven't felt that much hate and love towards the same thing since I paid real money to go see "3000 Miles to Graceland."The Cats won a thriller of two (not very good) NFC South teams. They did so in incredibly inept, yet amazing, fashion. There were back-killing penalties, back-killing interceptions, and (literally) back-killing injuries. But in the end, Steve Smith would not be denied and he carried the Cats to a win that is very reminiscent of the road win over Tampa that jump started the 2003 Super Bowl season.
Hey, a guy can dream right?
Brethren (cont'd): My patented bulleted thoughts on today's Saint-Panthers game:
- After that Julius Peppers blocked field goal, I really felt like a battered girlfriend coming back for more. I mean, here we were, giving up a drive that featured a fake punt, the Saints converting a fourth and three just outside of field goal range, and the Panthers giving up 847395792357 yards on penalties. I'm angry, sending hateful text messages to everyone from Nacho to Mammy to JLew. And as I begin to accept the fact that we're gonna go down 16-6, here comes Pep, awaking from his slumber to provide the Mr. Mo game-changing play. The bruises means he loves me, ok?!
- Did anyone else see how fired up John Fox got during the second half? Yes, it was probably out of desperation, but it's good to know he cares.
- While winning the game is obviously most important, this team still scares the shit out of me. After the Gators losing a game where they were winning for 58:51 minutes and the Panthers providing this roller coaster of an afternoon, I think I need a weekend from my weekend. Or at least get me back to the office, where I can calmly schedule some meetings, discuss FY09 Pillsbury planning, and report on the success of myfruitrollups.com. Jeebus.
- Matt Moore! Welcome to the Show, big guy.
- I miss Jake. I hope the fiery Cajun's up and running soon. I miss his musk.
- New bartender (to me) at the bar today: very attractive. She also did the bartender thing, making me think she was a lot more interested in me than she actually was. Fake love, but what this guy needed.
- After the Saints missed their long FG that could have potentially taken the lead in the fourth quarter, I screamed, "Fuck yea!" manically at the TV, as I am wont to do. The guy sitting at the bar next to me laughed, repeated what I said in some sort of mock-Brethren-voice, and thought I didn't hear him. Well fuck you, boring Steelers fan who gets to watch their team win 21-0. The Panthers eek out road wins against winless opponents and give me an ulcer in the process. That's how the Cardiac Cats roll, bitches. On to the Pink Taco!
Nacho: I was rather forlorn and calm throughout the majority of the game. Ricky provided a lot of yelling, I supplied Katrina similes. I'm classy like that. It was an ugly game played by ugly teams, neither of which look like they deserve to go to the post-season. Anyway, here's my re-cap:
- As I plop down in front of the finest tv Big Wangs has to offer, I receive a hearty slap on the shoulder. (How often do you experience anything in your everyday life that could be described as "hearty"? I thought so.) Turns out a waitress went to school with Julius Peppers and Alge Crumpler and was good friends with both. She admired my Peppers jersey. I admired her....pluck. She wasn't our waitress, but she did dole out high-fives at appropriate times.
- David Carr should be our Johnathan Papelbon. We need to keep him in the locker room, as far from the playing field as possible...until the fourth quarter. Today was Carr's eleventh career 4th quarter comeback win. I honestly didn't think David Carr had won 10 games in his entire career.
- As angry as he makes me, coddamn do I love David Carr's hair. I would not be in the least surprise to learn his favorite movie is Pulp Ficiton. Just fan-fucking-tastic hair, there, buddy.
- If Jake can't go by next week*, I want Matt Moore to start. (Matt Moore pictured at right.)
* = Jake will start next week. He knows who will be watching. Jake doesn't like to disappoint his diehards.
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