My Giants Shot Themselves in the [Foot]

We all (hopefully, by now) know what was on the line. The pundits would say that tonight was a “nothing” game for the Giants; they already have the NFC East and the battle for the first round bye and homefield advantage doesn’t begin until the game against the Panthers. But those professional sportswriters forget about the Dog – and the collar around Toby’s fuzzy, little neck. And my pride. And my joy.

It was all on the line in tonight's game against the Cowboys. And this season had been going swimmingly; I was basking in the glow of last year’s Cinderella story…the debutante was about to blossom into a prom queen. Then her prom date decided to kick-off the pre-prom party with a couple of roofies. To put this in layman’s terms: last week, Plaxico Burress (one of the best receivers in the NFL) shot himself in the leg while in one of those snooty-velvet-rope-you're-not-cool-enough-to-come-in-here clubs, because he was carrying a loaded handgun in his sweat pants. (Who in the world wears sweat pants to a swanky club? Throw on a pair of jeans; wear a holster; or better yet, as long as you have the money, hire a guy to carry the damn gun and wear a holster for you. But wearing sweatpants? Seriously, he might as well hop on eBay and find a pair of those mid-eighties-zebra-stripe pants. Or a pair of Z. Cavariccis.)

Anyway…the Giants (appropriately) took the high road and suspended Burress for the rest of the season. Mr. Burress walked into that stupid club with my season in his pocket; and he blew it. Before his "injury": teams had to double cover him, which gave us the best running game in the NFL. Now: we have Domenik -- drop-the-sure-touchdown-pass-against-the-Eagles -- Hixon. Who is going to double cover him? In fact, who is going to single cover him? So teams stack the box against us. Put 8 guys up there to stop the run. And then Brandon Jacobs goes down. Earth, wind, and fire? More like: who, what, and where. Back to the game. The Giants couldn’t run the ball in the first half; and barely improved on that in the second half. That, my loyal readers, was the difference. And we lost. The soap opera between TO and Romo was entertaining, but it wasn’t a difference maker. Our inability to move the football? Yeah. That mattered. And we lost. It’s as simple as that.

Now, back to the dog and the repercussions of the Giants losing. As you all know, the Wife is a Cowboys fan. Me? I’m sane (usually); I’m a Giant fan. Needless to say, this creates family conflicts. My favorite email of the week came to me from the Mother:

Go Giants!!!!
Love, Mom
P.S. -- Traci, if you're reading this --- GO Dallas!!!!!

Notice that the Wife got 5 exclamation points? Yep; I think the Mother likes the Wife more than she likes me; then again, who wouldn’t.

But the most important part of the game was the Bet. The Wife and I have always wagered on Giants/Cowboys games. We’ve now started a running bet for these games for all the public to see: the Dog’s collar. After several weeks of joy and happiness, the Dog is sad to be wearing his boring Cowboys collar. His Giants collar and my pride will go back into the jewelry drawer until the playoffs.

Dear Santa – All I want for Christmas is for the Cowboys to get knocked out of the playoffs in the wildcard round. Is that too much to ask?

Laughing at your wife is no laughing matter.

As many of my loyal readers have pointed out, this blog has a habit of giving the Wife a hard time. But it appears that I am not the only that has a laugh (and pays the price for it) at his wife's expense.

For example, my fish-loving friend Linzer is married with two dogs and two puffer fish. (There used to be more fish, but some of them developed a habit of trying to escape the tank. Their victories were pyrrhic.) Having had dinner with Linzer and Bev last night, and washing said dinner down with one too many glasses of wine, we were exchanging emails this morning about our respective visits from the hangover fairy. Bev's misery was initially compounded by the antics of the aforementioned puffers....and then her husband's own self-destructive conduct. As Linzer explains it:

bev was also grumpy this morning because one of the pufferfish managed to splash about a cup of water on her this morning. Then she got mad at me for NO REASON for laughing.

I was just as curious as you guys about exactly how this happened. Linzer's response:

The puffer decided to put his big fat tail-butt out of the water and then dart to the bottom. It was shamoo-esque.

Puffer: *Splash*

Bev: AAAAAAAH IT GOT IN MY MOUTH

Linzer: 10 minute long laughing fit

To be honest, I'm not sure which got Linzer in more trouble: laughing at his wife or sharing it with his friends. The moral of the story? Laugh at yourself and the whole world laughs with you; laugh at your wife and you laugh alone. 

[Weekend] Warriors....Come out to play-e-ay

This past Saturday, on the somewhat slippery tundra of the Swedish Cottage field, was the third annual Turkey Bowl. The game started out as an offensive shootout, with the teams exchanging touchdowns to bring the score to 2-2. But then Gilman showed up and, for once, things took a turn in a less offensive direction.

It was an interesting matchup, pitting the reigning MVP (Greg "Happy Feet" Goett) against this year's MVP: Timmy "Happy [?]" Gilman. Happy Feet had his hands full, but it was on defense that Gilman did most of his damage, picking off several passes and breaking up numerous others.

Despite his repeated claims that, "Summa's covering me; I can burn him all day," Linzer was unable to catch any of the easy passes thrown to him....preferring only to make shoestring and fingertip grabs.

Last, but not least, credit must go to our faithful fans: Tiffany and Cheryl. It was cold, but they kept that blanket warm and rosy.

The Mendez brothers proved excellent additions to the game, providing one of the teams with a significant advantage at the quarterback position. But it was their brother-in-law that was the most reminiscent of Sweetness. On a short pass to the left flat, Pat stretched out for a one-handed stab at mid-field. He pulled a spin move on Adam and practically danced into the endzone. Poetry.

Traci and Bev had their usual war of attrition (with Jenn taking countless snaps when various injuries reared their heads and required medication); happily, most of Traci's in game injuries affected only her liver. Credit must be given to the Wife, however, for the best pass rush of the day. Late in the game, her team was clinging to a narrow lead and reeling yet another one of Big Poppa's shiv-like kick off returns. On the next play from scrimmage, Traci drops back into coverage against Bev; nobody was rushing the quarterback, so Traci passes her coverage off to the safety and comes free on the corner blitz. This took everybody (and I mean everybody) by surprise, including the quarterback who, rather than avoiding the blitzing defender, lofted a pass into the middle of the coverage. The pass was picked off; but, rather than taking it to the house, the overzealous safety ran to hug the Wife and tell her how proud he was of her. Needless to say, although his flag was still in his pocket, a foul was called and he was ruled down (and ridiculed) at the spot of the interception.

At the end of four quarters, it was good guys 13 and bad guys 10 (ish). And another Turkey Bowl was in the books. Much to Donovan McNabb's surprise (or perhaps as he may have expected), the players decided to play a fifth quarter...at the usual watering hole, Firehouse. Speaking of quarters...nevermind.

"Pain heals. Chicks dig scars. Glory... lasts forever." - Shane Falco