Football Season is over. Eight months until the excitement returns. The strategies. The new players. The old players. Victories. Defeats. Eight months before I can once again read Peter King’s extensive and excellent Monday Morning Quarterback column, wherein he masks his problem with stimulants by discussing his love of coffee each and every week.
The best of 2009 were the following:
— The whole Brett Favre saga. How a 40 year old man who already holds most of the all-time NFL records for quarterback turns in his best performance ever. And then to see him targeted, beaten up on a New Orleans playing field, getting up to play another round. Losing. Heartbreaking.
— New England vs. the Colts, Round One. Belichick goes for it on 4 and 2, from his own 30 yard line. Doesn’t make it. Colts beat New England. They do so again in Round Two, without any drama this time.
— The Jets and the Bengals. Teams that hadn’t won since I started watching football. Heck, the Jets had to look all the way back to Joe Namath to find a winning season. And they played really well.
— New Orleans. Yes, they beat the Colts. But they didn’t do it by beating down Manning, as they had Favre. They did it intelligently, making good calls and creative moves. Something that the Colts lacked. And you have to love the fact that, after hosting all of those Superbowls, they actually won one of their own. Hats off to the Saints.
— The Colts. My team. Yes, I wanted a perfect season. Failing that, I wanted a Superbowl victory. But, we got a Superbowl trip. The defense is stronger than in years past (with nods to the evident failures last night). Manning has been in fine form with a series of rookie receivers. Next year. Next year, maybe. Next year.
— Please, no more 65 year old rockers singing in the Superbowl from a group which has lost half of its members to drug overdoses over the decades. It makes me feel older than I am. “Teenage Wasteland”. Bah.
Next year, I promise not to watch all three games on Sundays. It’s just too much. Choose one morning game to watch closely on Tivo delay, leave the TV on during the second one while doing other things around the house, and watch the usually superior evening game as Gabi nods off next to me.
Time to occupy my Sundays with better things to do. Raising four kids. Big and strong and tall and smart. That’s the goal.