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The problem with sports reporters--one of them, anyway--is that they see things completely through the perspective of their beat. I'm sure the same is true of all types of reporters; it's a job where a certain amount of myopia is necessary to do it well. But this becomes a serious problem when the thorny real world pops up in a sports context. Some sportswriters can handle it, but most can't, at least not without the hammiest of fists.

Witness Phil Taylor in the latest issue of Sports Illustrated. The Steelers lost the Super Bowl, and this made him very happy, because Ben Roethlisberger deserved to lose thanks to his accusations of sexual assault.

[T]he path to forgiveness for Roethlisberger requires more than leading a crisp two-minute drill. "Seems like some people want Ben to walk across a bed of nails before they'll cut him any slack," says Pittsburgh receiver Hines Ward. Now, there's a thought. But in the absence of that kind of pain, seeing Big Ben in the professional agony that comes with losing the Super Bowl will have to do. Apologies for boorish behavior and promises to be a better man can be coached and choreographed. The kind of hurt Roethlisberger expressed after the loss in Dallas cannot.

"I feel like I let people down," he said after the game, in which he threw for 263 yards and two touchdowns but also tossed two critical interceptions. "I feel like I let the city of Pittsburgh down, the fans, the coaches, my teammates."

Good. Let it bleed. He went on to rattle off the names of teammates who had played through injuries, lineman Chris Kemoeatu, wide receivers Mike Wallace and Emmanuel Sanders among them. "It's even more disappointing for me because I let a lot of people down who showed up today to fight," he said. Even better. [all emphasis Taylor's]

Aside from the fact that Taylor really pours on his wishes for pain (Good. Let it bleed.), I find this kind of piece troubling for a larger reason. We're talking about something awful that (allegedly) happened outside the playing field. How is losing a Super Bowl any sort of "payback"? The guy's lost football games before. I'm sure he'll get over it. In pure karmic terms, if Roethlisberger is guilty, the scales would only be balanced when he himself had to endure some unwanted sexual advances from doofy-looking hairy dudes.

By saying that the Steelers loss was just desserts for Roethlisberger, you are in essence saying that losing the Super Bowl = sexual assault. By my own moral calculus, that doesn't add up.

Also, Roethlisberger has already won the Lombardi Trophy twice. So does this mean God/karma/The Universe is okay with suspected rapists earning two championships, but three is just beyond the pale?

The same kinds of things were written about Michael Vick this year. He was redeeming himself on the football field, said an upsettingly large number of writers. Some thrilling comebacks and electric performances were good enough to make up for killing dozens of living things, apparently. Then, when he laid an egg in the first round of the playoffs, he suddenly still had a lot to prove about himself. The implication: If the Eagles had gone all the way, he would have become a decent human being.

You can think whatever you want about Vick. He's actually served time in prison for his crimes, so if you believe that's sufficient to pay for what he did, you're entitled to that opinion. But if you think he still has a lot to answer for, the idea that he could compensate for his crimes by being really good at football is at best naive, at worst disturbing.

In the world of a sportswriter, any human failing can be redeemed with on-field heroics, even failings as heinous as Vick's and Roethlisberger's. Because that's all they know. They eat, breathe, and sleep sports, so everything about The World must be interpreted through this lens.

Sports are not alone in this regard. Some people think Roman Polanski's films excuse him drugging and raping a 13 year old. If Charlie Sheen somehow ever won an Oscar, I'm sure we'd hear "redemption" stories about him, too.

And to be fair, it's not just professional sportswriters who do this. I saw plenty of ordinary fans tweeting throughout the Super Bowl with harsh words for Roethlisberger, delighting in his interceptions and poor first-half performance, suggesting this was karmic redemption--while also making an endless series of rape jokes, indicating they'd completely missed the point of disliking Roethlisberger in the first place.

Regardless of subject, I find it morally suspect at best. Forgiveness can not truly be achieved without some measure of empathy for those you victimized. It can only come after some long, dark night of the soul where you face yourself and come to grips with what you've done. It does not involve throwing perfect spirals or breaking free of a few tackles and scrambling for a first down.

If you want to believe the likes of Vick and Roethlisberger are not in need of redemption, that's up to you. But if you think they still have much to answer for, you can't also think that answering can be done on a sports context. Because if that's true, let's just give prisoners footballs and see which ones play the best, so we can determine which are most deserving of parole. It's equally as fair and makes about as much sense.

DALLAS--NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell warned members of the Super Bowl champion Green Bay Packers that he would closely monitor excessive celebrations this offseason. Players have been cautioned that should be respectful when enjoying the fruits of their hard-won victory between February and September.

"Members of the NFL's competition committee will be keeping a close eye on the Packers from now until training camp," Goodell said during an on-field postgame press conference immediately at the end of regulation. "We want to ensure that all post-Super Bowl celebrations are tasteful and sportsmanlike."

Under new NFL excessive celebration rules, each player on the winning team is only allowed to hoist the Lombardi trophy once, and only "with both arms, at a height not to exceed two inches above the top of the head." Players are also limited to "the spraying of no more than two bottles of moderately priced champagne, at a radius of no more than 1.5 feet away from the player's person."

But the regulations do not stop at the post-game locker room celebration. "Players are reminded that homecoming celebrations after the Super Bowl should be limited to one dinner with immediate family members at an NFL-approved chain restaurant," Goodell noted. "Your NFLPA rep should have a list of such restaurants handy. You are also limited to one vacation, domestic only, not to exceed two weeks, preferably at an NFL-sanctioned family resort."

The Packers made clear their compliance with their new rules. Players celebrated on the field by exchanging hearty handshakes, but no hugs (which could have resulted in severe penalties). Coach Mike McCarthy announced that upon returning to Green Bay, the team would commemorate their win with a trip to CiCi's Pizza. In preparation for a victory parade, Jim Schmitt, the town's mayor, has submitted all confetti to the league office to make sure it meets regulation ticker-tape standards.

The NFL instituted the excessive celebration rules last year after it was discovered that some Saints players had used their offseason to throw large parties for family and friends. At these revels, voices were reportedly raised and laughs rung out at levels described by witnesses as "kind of loud". Other players took pictures of themselves with the Lombardi trophy that showed, in the words of Goodell, "an inordinate amount of joy and self-satisfaction."

"Winning the Super Bowl is a privilege, not a right," Goddell said. "Teams who forget this will face suspensions, loss of draft picks, and my scornful, icy glare."

I wrote a variation on this tale years ago at MSN Sports Filter. But since that site was taken away from us all BY THE MAN, please enjoy this loving rehash.

I didn't grow up in a football house. My dad didn't really care about sports, and my mom was a baseball fan with minimal interest in other games. I spent a criminally long period of my young life not knowing anything about football. Before the age of 7 or so, I'd seen it played exactly once in my life, when a neighbor gave us tickets to go see an Army game at West Point. I enjoyed the spectacle and the energy of the crowd, but I hadn't the slightest idea what I was watching. It seemed like something from another universe.

I remember going to a friend's birthday party as a kid. I was probably 8 years old. He suggested a game of backyard football, and I panicked, because I had literally never played the game before. I did what my brain interpreted as Football Moves, which meant running insane routes in all directions, without any regard for the line of scrimmage or what endzone I was supposed to run toward.

Another kid screamed at me WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?! DON'T YOU KNOW THE RULES?! No, I didn't, not in the slightest. So I leaned on humor and spent the rest of the afternoon doing stupid stuff, pretending I was just goofing around, when in fact faking was not necessary.

Another embarrassing fact of my feckless youth: I was poor. Let's amend that: I was suburban poor, which is very different from urban poor or rural poor. Growing up, we had a house and enough to eat. We just didn't have a lot of Stuff, and new clothes ranked among the many subsets of Stuff. A good 75 percent of my wardrobe was inherited from my two older cousins, who were seven and five years older than me.

Not that this mattered to Little Kid Me. I had clothes that fit and didn't have holes in them, and that was good enough for me. It only strikes me as a little sad now when I look back on old photos and wonder, "Why am I dressed like Greg Brady?"

So I knew nothing about football and I had no new clothes. That's the setup. Got it? Good.

The first Super Bowl I have any conscious memory of was Super Bowl XX. That was because it involved the Chicago Bears, who had become a full-blown multimedia juggernaut. "The Super Bowl Shuffle" was unironically enjoyed by millions of Americans who did not yet know that Zubaz and headbands were hilarious. Jim McMahon became a household name and a symbol of rebellion and upheaval because, in the staid world of the NFL, his slightly spiky hair might as well have been assless chaps.

The Super Bowl was going to be such an event that my teacher, a lady of a certain age who usually had no use for sports, decided to let all her kids draw pennants for the impending Big Game on behalf of the team they wanted to win. Naturally, the entire class chose the Bears because everybody loved the Bears. To say you didn't like the Bears would've branded you a weirdo, as surely as if you'd said you weren't too keen on Ronald Reagan or Rambo.

Again, I knew absolutely nothing about football. I couldn't have picked Refrigerator Perry out of a lineup filled with vegans. (I might have been able to if he'd been turned into a G.I. Joe figure, but that had yet to happen.) The older cousins who supplied my wardrobe lived in Connecticut, and they bequeathed me a red Patriots sweatshirt that I liked to wear. It had a very large old-school Pat the Patriot logo on it, and it was one of the few items of clothing I had that I truly loved.

I knew the Patriots were a football team and this was their mascot. My love of the sweatshirt had nothing to do with that. I loved this sweatshirt because I loved reading about history, and the patriot figure invoked the American revolution. Seriously.

So in tribute to the cousins responsible for my hand-me-downs, and my favorite sweatshirt, and my love of history, I opted to dedicate a pennant to the underdog Patriots, the Bears' sacrificial lamb opponent in The Big Game. I copied Pat the Patriot from my t-shirt, embellished it with a few football-y things like goalposts (because I had no idea who played for New England), and handed it in.

My pennant was not well received. My teacher supported my right to free speech, but the other kids were less forgiving. I was soon treated to a plethora of arguments, some more nuanced than others, about why I was insane to root for the Patriots. 

Some kids quoted chapter and verse about how good the Bears were, citing stats and players who were awesome. Others simply said THEY'RE GONNA GET DESTROYYYYYYED. (Only kids can truly emphasize the letter Y.) I could counter with nothing, because again, I didn't know anything about football to begin with.

But as the Super Bowl neared, I felt more and more defiant. Even as a kid, I was a contrarian. In kindergarten, I picked orange as my favorite color because no one else had picked it. That wasn't why I went with the Patriots, but that became why I stayed with them.

That was how I demanded that our family watch the Super Bowl, which otherwise would have gone untuned-to in our household. I was gonna root for New England with all my might. I was gonna will them to win and shock all the loudmouths in my class. Boy, were they gonna eat crow when I gave it to them on Monday! And hey, look at that, they scored a kick-goal like a minute into the game! This is gonna be sweet!

Of course, it was all downhill for New England after that. Before halftime rolled around, I realized two things: 1) the Patriots were not going to win, and 2) I still didn't like football. Guys hit each other, then stop. Hit, stop, hit, stop. Everyone talked about how boring baseball was but this dumb game never got started! And they hardly use their feet at all, so why call it football? Stupid game.

The next day, other kids got in my face, even though I had never trash talked at all (mostly because I was unable to). Their words shouldn't have bothered me, because I didn't really give a shit about the Patriots, or football. But I was a kid, so they did. Rooting for a lost cause didn't feel noble. It just felt like losing.

The Patriots sweatshirt was quietly retired. I never wore it again. The next year, the Giants went to the Super Bowl and I found it a lot easier to get swept up in the local fervor. This time, I drew pictures of Giants helmets and Phil Simms jerseys. I'd learned my lesson.

DALLAS--Fans in town for the Big Game have raved about a brand new feature at the Fan Fest, the NFL Super Bowl Super Concussion Pavilion. The multimedia experience, in the words of commissioner Roger Goodell, "pays tribute to the role of concussions in the game we love so much, in all their brain-jarring, blackout-inducing glory."

"Whether they're caused by a vicious helmet-to-helmet hit or a seemingly innocent tumble to the turf, concussions are an essential part of the fabric of football," said NFL commissioner Roger Goodell in a press release. "Fans will want to make sure to stop in at the NFL Super Bowl Super Concussion Pavilion to catch this literally spine-tingling program."

Those who attend are first treated to a newly produced video of Dan Lauria as Vince Lombardi, reciting some of the legendary coach's most famous lines while urging his woozy players back into the game. It also features footage of Pittsburgh's fearsome Steel Curtain defense of the 1970s, and CAT scans of the tragically high levels of tau buildup in its members' gray matter.

The film then transitions to a montage of this season's most brutal concussions and their aftermaths, such as players vomiting uncontrollably and waking up in strange locations with no memory of the past few hours. But most fans we spoke to were most excited about the dark-ride part of the program

"It's amazing!" raved Packers fan Tim Johnson of Eau Claire, Wisconsin. "You get in this little train thingy, kinda like a haunted house ride. Then you go through a dark tunnel with strobe lights and these holograms of football helmets that look like they're coming right at you!  Meanwhile, the PA system blares KidzBop songs that randomly slow down and speed up, and Broadway showtunes run backwards. When I got out, I felt like lying on the floor for several hours. It was awesome!"

The NFL had hoped to use some of the game's most frequently concussed players in the pavilion, either as greeters or doorstops. However, many of those invited simply forgot about the event or were too perturbed by incessant buzzing in their ears to attend. But the pavilion has been visited frequently by Junior Seau, who at age 41 is the oldest living linebacker in NFL history.

Not everyone is pleased by the NFL's program. "I find this 'celebration' of concussions to be completely insulting," said NFL Players' Association president DeMaurice Smith. "It makes a mockery of the pain of many of our members and does nothing to address the serious problem of former players who can't pay for their medical bills. Seems like somebody should do something about that."

I was hoping to get Skitch Hanson to write a post on the Super Bowl, like he's done for this site for several years running. Unfortunately, it seems like Skitch has taken the proverbial wrong turn at Albuquerque on his way to The Big Game. According to his Twitter feed in the last 24 hours or so, he's gotten way off course, as you can see below.

I sure hope he gets out of this pickle okay! But if you want to see if he does, you should probably catch Skitch on Twitter here.

DALLAS--NFL commissioner Roger Goodell offered an apology for the upcoming Super Bowl halftime show. His comments acknowledged that the show, which will feature a performance by the Black Eyed Peas, will be "totally unacceptable in every possible way."

"We're not 100 percent sure exactly what's going to happen on Sunday, but we do know it's going to be unwatchable," Goodell said at press conference at Cowboy Stadium. "So I want to apologize in advance for foisting this on the American public."

"I know that, generally speaking, people don't expect all that much from our halftime show. Even so, I think this sets the bar almost unspeakably low."

The commissioner leaned over to place his hand extremely close to the ground, then reconsidered. "Actually, I think you'd have to dig a trench to put the bar as low as we've set it."

"I know this will be especially tough to deal with, since in recent years we've had a few artists whose performances didn't made viewers want to kick in their TVs, such as Prince and Bruce Springsteen. If those entertaining displays got anyone's hopes up for this year, I sincerely apologize."

Goodell explained that the NFL was forced to take on the Black Eyed Peas because the chart-busting group's appearances had been shared among other major sports leagues for the past few years. "We dodged a bullet for a while. I thought the NBA would be stuck with them for a few more seasons, but now it's time for us to take one for the team," he said with a shrug.

The Black Eyed Peas attended the press conference and were mere feet away from Goodell as he made these remarks, but the band seemed oblivious to them, spending the majority of the press conference making inscrutable arm movements and hand gestures.

"If we bear down and sit tight, I think we can all make it through this," Goodell said. "Switch over the Puppy Bowl, go on a beer run, start a second half box pool among your guests, whatever it takes. I know we can do this, people."

When asked if the Black Eyed Peas would play "My Humps," Goodell sighed deeply and ran his hands through his hair nervously. "Look, I don't like this any more than you do," he said, before trailing off mumbling.

Goodell then ceded the podium to Black Eyed Peas frontman will.i.am, who screamed "LOUDER!" into the microphone, while his bandmate, Fergie, writhed in an unappealing, grotesque parody of feminine sexuality, until all reporters fled from the room, blood pouring from their ears and eyes.

DALLAS--This year's Super Bowl, already billed as the most blue-collar Big Game ever, may be jeopardized by supervisors at some of the players' day jobs. Members of both the Steelers and Packers may miss the game due to employment obligations.

"I wanna get to Dallas ASAP, but my manager's been riding my ass for months," said Pittsburgh running back Rashard Mendenhall in a phone interview from a Firestone plant in Beaver Falls, PA. "He's saying I might have to cover some shifts that weekend, since Charlie in receiving broke his leg and Tony's on Guard duty this month, and we got this huge shipment of whitewalls coming in. I'd just call in but I used my last sick day the Monday after we beat the Ravens."

Mendenhall could not address any follow-up questions because his 15-minute smoke break had ended. "You ain't gettin' paid to goldbrick," said Mendenhall's supervisor, Frank Lichtman, before hanging up the phone.

In total, the Steelers have six players who can't commit to making a trip to the Super Bowl "until I can swap some shifts," three who are "just hopin' my boss don't pull a fast one," and two more who say, "it depends on if I can get some overtime this week, man." This puts a serious damper on the championship hopes of a team already dealing with injuries. Three-fifths of Pittsburgh's offensive line was lost for the season by a tragic heat-tapping accident down at The Mill.

Green Bay has fewer issues with securing time off, since most of their players work at the team's eponymous meat packing business. However, an outbreak of e. coli at the facility last month caused several players to lose significant muscle mass. Others have had to play through an as-yet unidentified neurological disease that may be cause by incidental ingestion of porcine spinal fluid when operating the assembly line's "brain hose."

Quarterback Aaron Rodgers, now 30 pounds lighter than he was at the beginning of the season, has called on the plant to provide workers with face masks, which could cut down on such outbreaks. Such a move angrily dismissed by his shift supervisor, Chuck Nelson. "You think we're made a money over here, mister?"

NFL commissioner Roger Goodell has asked managers to "take it easy" on Super Bowl-bound employees this week, though he added, "We all know how important it is to get the JL-157 line out the door this week."

ATLANTA--The Centers for Disease Control has issued warnings that rough winter weather may expose millions of unsuspecting Americans to the Pro Bowl.

"With large parts of the country crippled by historically cold temperatures and intense blizzards, most Americans will probably spend the majority of this weekend indoors," said Dr. Frank Cowlin, a senior epidemiologist at the CDC. "Not venturing outside this weekend brings with it increased risk of catching the NFL's completely unwatchable quote-unquote all-star game."

Cowlins reports that accidentally viewing this mockery of a sporting event can have many side effects. "Some victims may experience a high fever, due to rage caused by watching millionaire athletes and corporate douchebags enjoy all-expense-paid trips to Hawaii they could have easily afforded while the rest of the nation freezes. Other afflicted persons may feel nausea brought on by the truly sickening, apathetic play of the participants as they engage in a cruel farce whose resemblance to the game of football is purely coincidental."

The potential danger of such epidemics was first recognized in 2002, when a rainy Memorial Day weekend forced millions to see a FOX Game of the Week between the Cubs and Pirates and emergency rooms across the nation were clogged with the afflicted. Casualties totaled five dead and thousands maddened by Joe Buck and Tim McCarver-induced dementia.

"If you happen to accidentally tune into the Pro Bowl," Cowlins continued, "it is recommended you leave your house immediately, regardless of conditions outside. In the CDC's opinion, hypothermia and frostbite are preferable to watching this monstrous abortion of a game."

NFL commissioner Roger Goodell had no comment, but sources say he is looking into ways that he can fine the CDC.

Yeah, it definitely hurts to get this close and not make it just one step further. And for two years in a row now. But what's really gonna keep me up at night is how much trash talking we coulda done.

That's what got us here, from Hard Knocks all the way through the win against the Patriots. We just talked smack about everyone and everything, morning, noon, and night. Then we face the Steelers and all of a sudden we don't say anything. Not a peep. That's what killed us--we got away from our game plan.

But I don't blame my players. I put this all on me. I had so many insults ready to go, both overt and veiled, and I didn't use them. I took a cue from Wes Welker and wrote up a whole buncha press conference responses, all of which used the word "rape" in them, but then I thought that would've been in bad taste. I gotta hand it to Mike Tomlin and his team--I never would've thought anything was in bad taste a week ago.

And even if we didn't go for the obvious digs at Roethlisberger, there's so many petty details we could've shit-talked about. Like, "hey, what's up with Polamalu's hair?" or "your stadium is named after ketchup!" Maybe those seem like little things, but hey, little things win championships.

We coulda done it over-the-top, black-hat style and insulted the entire city of Pittsburgh. Maybe we could've downplayed the accomplishments of the labor movement. Maybe we could've mocked steel, maybe? "Iron, carbon, chromium, what kinda dumbass fuckin alloy is that?" Then maybe the Steelers would've been driven insane with rage and made a buncha mistakes. Oh well, guess we'll never know what mighta been.

The only thing we can do is work harder. Develop better insults in the off season. Find new and creative ways to be dismissive of your opponents. Draft some athletic loudmouths out of college. And above all, never, ever stop talking. Because talk is cheap, and who wants to pass up that kinda bargain?

CHICAGO--The entire Windy City is getting geared up for Sunday's NFC Championship Game between the Bears and the Packers, two teams with decades of bad blood between them, apparently. The Chicago-Green Bay rivalry dates back almost to the NFL's inception and remains the league's most enduring, for reasons fans can not recall, exactly.

"I hate the Packers with a passion!" said Stan Cosnowski, a self-proclaimed lifelong Bears fan from Hammond, Indiana. "My old man always used to say, 'I don't care if we win two games this year, so long as they're both against Green Bay'. I haven't the slightest idea why he said that."

Sunday will mark the first playoff battle between Chicago and Green Bay since 1941, the outcome of which has been lost to the mists of time. Footage of the contest has deteriorated beyond repair, but NFL Films president Steve Sabol insists "it was a tough-nosed, smash-mouth affair. I mean, it'd have to be, right?"

The most enduring image of the rivalry remains an old black and white photo, taken sometime in the 1930s, probably. In it, a bunch of guys covered in mud, wearing those old-timey leather helmets, fight to try and grab this thing that barely looks like a football by modern standards. The final score of this game remains unknown, but picture has come to symbolize the rivalry's rich, featureless tradition.

"Bears-Packers is the best rivalry in sports, no question," said Frank Kennedy, a Bears fan from Berwyn, Illinois. "I think it started with this guy who played for Green Bay a long time ago, some linebacker named O'Leary. After a game he got drunk and set a bunch of buildings on fire and almost burned the whole city down. I definitely read that somewheres."

But it's not just Chicago eagerly anticipating this obscurely heated battle. Thousands of "Cheeseheads" will make the trip to Soldier Field as they have for generations, for reasons that remain murky at best.

"You wanna know why I hate the Bears so much?" asked Trevor Lundegard, a Packers fan in town for the game from Eau Claire, Wisconsin. "Good, because so do I. The more I think about these strange emotions, the more they baffle me."

In keeping with time-honored, unclear tradition, the mayors of the two cities have made a friendly wager. Chicago's Richard Daley has put up several dozen of the city's famous deep-dish pizzas, while Green Bay's Jim Schmitt has promised some of his state's finest cheeses. Regardless of who wins the bet, both mayors pledged to continue to irrationally despise the other's football team.

"This as good as it gets," Daley told a crowd during a Bears pep rally in The Loop. "Two bitter foes squaring off, in a match-up rife with tradition and history, the finer details of which escape me at the moment."

No, I don't think the AFC Championship is gonna be a letdown game at all. Whoever wins this wins a trip to the Super Bowl. You can't get up for that, might as well quit football right now.

Sure, we're not trash-talking the Steelers like we did the Patriots, but that doesn't mean we can't get motivated for this game. My tactic is tell my team that Pittsburgh is full of bad guys. Like really, really bad guys, and we gotta get em and throw em in jail.

What kind of bad guys? I dunno, maybe bank robbers, or ninjas. Every time you tackle them, they get one Jail Point. If you tackle somebody 10 times, they gotta go to jail. Jail is either gonna be the locker room or this really big rock. We haven't decided yet.

And I'm gonna tell my men that the hash marks are deadly poisonous snakes, and if you step on em, you're dead. And also the end zone is lava, but if you go in there while holding a football, it can't hurt you. Oh, and you're totally safe if you're standing on the sidelines, but if someone comes off of the field and touches you, you have to stay frozen for like five minutes.

Why are we gonna win this game? Because we got a great defense, we got a great ground game, we've got a lot of last-minute wins under our belt, and also the commissioner told me totally get a pizza party if we win this game.

What's that? Ben Roethlisberger called no-backsies-no-givesies? You can't do that before the game starts! That butthead!

Trash-talking by the Jets? No, I don't pay too much attention to that. Antonio Cromartie likes to yak, but that's not part of our game. That's just the kind of thing reporters like you love to write about, that's all. We just come to play. You know me, I'm not much for words.

What about Wes Welker's comments? Look, Wes is someone who works for this organization in some capacity. I really...I can't say anything beyond that. I juat have to focus on my job.

Do we respect the Jets? I don't think the answer to that question matters much, in the grand scheme of things. It doesn't affect our game plan. They do what they do, we do what we do. I'm not sure who the Jets are, really. That's not a name...I'm not familiar with that name at all.

They're our divisional playoff game opponent? If you say so. I'll leave that for the media to dissect and...do those sorts of things. We just come to play the game. If you say it's the divisional playoff game, then okay, fine. I'm not concerned with that.

Will I at least concede we're playing a football game? No, I mean...look, I know it's your job to dig out every little secret of ours, but it's my job to prepare to play a game. And no, I will neither confirm nor deny that said game is football.

You look very frustrated. I'm not trying to frustrate you or anybody else. I'm just trying to do my job, which is to prepare my team for a task. You want to call that a "game"? Go right ahead. It has no bearing on my job, which I would prefer not to discuss.

The thing you have in your hand? It appears to be some sort of ellipsoidal spheroid, formed by stitching together strips of a leather-like polymer and filling it with air. What is it called? Look, you're not going to play "gotcha" with me. You want to call it a football, call it a football. We're just going to perform certain deeds. Let the media sort it out any way they want.

Look, holding a knife to my throat isn't going to get me to admit anything. I have to think about what's best for the organization, the nature of which is frankly none of your business. I am just an entity leading other sentient beings toward an unspecified goal.

Well, I certainly won't give away anything just because you're holding the knife to your own throat. I refuse to be blackmailed. Now...look, bleeding all over my floor won't change my mind, either. Nor will turning deathly white and gasping for air. I'm just going to keep performing acts that lead to other acts. Stimulus, response, stimulus, response.

Scratchbomb hands over the reins to nationally syndicated sports columnist Skitch Hanson, as we've done many times before. You may know Skitch as the author of the highly popular syndicated column "Up The Middle." You may have read his best-selling book Mr. November: How Derek Jeter's Home Run in the 2001 World Series Healed a City I Don't Particularly Care For. He's also a frequent guest on ESPN's sportswriters panel show Opinions! You can follow Skitch on Twitter here. Without further ado, here's Skitch.

Like many football fans, I couldn't help but be amazed by Michael Vick this season. I thrilled as he wrested the starting quarterback job from Kevin Kolb. Marveled as he regained the form that once made him the game's most dynamic player. Was floored when he engineered an improbable comeback against the Giants. I had hope that Vick could put his sordid past behind him.

Unfortunately, his collapse in the playoff game against the Packers shows that he still has a long way to go in order to redeem himself for what he's done.

In the regular season, Vick was an explosive power, a one-man dynamo, one for which few teams were prepared. His arm seemed to finally catch up with his legs, and his mobility threw opposing defenses for a loop all year long. He singlehandedly guided Philadelphia past the Giants into first place in the NFC East and a home playoff game.

But then he squandered that opportunity with a less-than-stellar performance against Green Bay. The numbers speak for themselves--three sacks, only eight rushing attempts, and a defeat-sealing interception in the game's final moments. Such a lackluster outing dashes all hopes that he was fully rehabilitated for his heinous crimes.

When training camp opens next summer, Vick will find himself back at square one. He will still have to prove that he is the kind of field general who's capable of carrying his team deep into the playoffs, and is therefore a changed man. Otherwise, he'll just be the prototypical flashy QB who is all style and no substance, which would also mean he still needs to atone for his misdeeds.

If Vick wants a role model, he need look no further than another player with a checkered past who played on Sunday: Ray Lewis. Eleven years ago, Lewis was involved in a fight that resulted in a man being stabbed to death, and the linebacker found himself indicted for murder. Some thought Lewis would never be able to make up for his role in such a deadly encounter, but he showed them wrong by remaining a defensive force to be reckoned for the next decade.

On Sunday, Lewis captained the Baltimore defense and stifled Matt Cassell all day, resulting in a dominant 30-7 Ravens win. One can only hope that Vick someday learns how to show such remorse.

To me, the upshot of this whole Rex Ryan foot fetish fiasco is that the Jets really should have done a more thorough background check before they hired him. Embarrassing online videos like this can completely derail a team's season. Just look at what happened to the Rams back in 2005 when that footage surfaced of head coach Winnebago Man.

If you remember, Rex Ryan was passed over for the Ravens head coaching job two years ago, even though he was a highly regarded coordinator at the time. Now, I'm not saying the Ravens knew anything about these disgusting, shameful videos when they made that decision. But I am saying that I'm heavily implying it in a way that could not get me sued for libel.

Of course, I believe in every person's right to privacy, no matter what kind of dirty, sinful non-procreative sexual nastiness they may get up to in their own horrible homes. But I also believe that you forfeit that right to privacy if you post a video of yourself to the internet. Or if someone steals a video from you and posts it without your knowledge. Or if someone has taken footage of you from across a darkened alley. You're just asking for trouble if your goings-on can be filmed from 300 feet away with a high-powered telescopic night-vision camera.

In my book, the fact that you're even mentioned in any way on the internet means you are fair game--particularly if you are mentioned on my site Pro Football Talk, which is mine, by me, Mike Florio. If you wanted to remain so private, maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to be good at football in the internet age. Don't blame me for your poor life choices, buddy.

If I had received this tip about Rex Ryan, would I have run with it? Absolutely. Fans pay a lot of money to watch and root for their teams, and they have the right to know if the head coach's wife is a complete freak in the sack. And fans of opposing teams have the right to a fresh batch of heckle fodder.

Not to mention my obligation as a fully accredited, NBC-approved Rumor-monger. If a rumor like this came my way, it would be my duty to report it. If I didn't, that would make me no better than The New York Times, which decided to ignore this story for a whole day. They denied themselves the opportunity to put a picture of Rex Ryan's filthy, filthy wife on their front page with a hilarious headline, like the Daily News did.

And to those who say these sordid details have nothing to do with his job, they do once I report on them. At that point, all the media attention that I focus on Rex becomes a potential distraction, thus forcing me to ask my Jets sources how he's dealing with it. And then I would also have to ask myself how I managed to snag such a scoop and be so handsome at the same time.

I'm sorry, I have to say something, because I'm boiling up over here. The NFL's new rules against helmet-to-helmet contact and other vicious hits are just ridiculous. They get my lowest rating ever--only seven booyahs!
I agree with you one hundred percent, Stu. Football is MAN'S sport. It is played by MEN. This is what men DO--smash into one another over and over again until one of their brains is sloshing around like Jello in a Ziploc bag.
It's gonna fag-ify the entire league! Just like in the 80s, when they said Lyle Alzado couldn't bring his crossbow on the field anymore!
I am just SO ANGRY ABOUT THIS RIGHT NOW. GOD, I WANNA THROW ROGER GOODELL DOWN A FLIGHT OF STAIRS!
Hold on, guys. You don't have to like all the new rules, but they're put in place to protect the players. I wish some of them had been enacted when I still played. Maybe that way, I could still tie my own shoes without twitching or crying.

I know I've said this many times, but it bears repeatin. The Jets are a uttah disgrace. I'm gonna say it an additional time, because I feel so strongly about it: The Jets are a uttah disgrace. And I'm gonna say this yet another additional time, just in case you forgot what I said while I was saying this sentence: The Jets are an uttah disgrace.

First of all, they did nothin but tawk all offseason. Tawk and tawk and tawk about how great they are. I've never heard anyone tawk for so long about so little. Sounded like a broken record. They gotta take a cue from me. I talk five hours a day, and I never repeat myself. Ever. Never, ever repeat myself. Ever.

First they got themselves on this Hard Knocks thing, and Rex Ryan's cursing like a longshoreman. You don't hafta work blue to motivate men, Rex. Just look at me. I don't say a single cuss word on this show, and millions of people hang on my every word. These idiots could just go comment on a blog or the Tweetah or whatevah, and yet they wait on hold for three hours just to hear me yell at em. That's called powah. Take a tip from the mastah, okay?

Then they harrass this reportah who's just tryin to do her job. Whethah or not she was an actual reportah or actually felt harassed is not important. The point is, we were all talkin about it for weeks. Therefore, somethin bad happened.

Then you got Braylon Edwards blowin a 2-point-whatevah on the blood alcohol thing. You don't get behind the wheel when you're tanked on the sawce, Braylon. You're lucky you didn't kill a man like your buddy Donte Stallworth; then you would spent a whole 30 days in jail! You make a lotta money, fella. You can afford to get a drivah. Or to get your car outfitted with an IV drip of Diet Coke, like mine. That sobahs you up real quick.

If the Jets wanna know how to be a disgrace, they should take a page outta the Giants' book. They were an uttah disastah on Sunday, but at least they had the decency to be quietly undisciplined and sloppy. None of this mouthin off, none of this showboating. They just went out and stunk up the joint. With class.

Eli Manning is a professional. When he throws a dumb interception with his left hand, he just hangs his head and walks off the field. And you don't see none of this stupid celebrating on defense neither. Nobody was poundin their chest or doin the dougie when they commit an idiotic chop block in the end zone to give Tennessee a safety.

Rex Ryan could learn somethin from Tom Coughlin, too. He don't curse at his playahs. He just bends at the waist and slowly gets reddah and reddah. A man's skin tone can convey a lot more than a man's words. That's why I paint myself bright orange for Mike'd Up every week.

Folks, there's a right way and a wrong way to disgrace yourself. The wrong way is the loudmouth, classless, criminal Jets' way. The right way is the Giants quiet, dignified sucking. Of course, it's best of all to not suck, but if you do have to suck, the Giants way is the way to do it.

Comin up, I'm gonna go over all the other NFL action this weekend. We'll talk the Cowboys' big win, and then I'll covah all the othah games based on the same two-minute segments on SportsCenter that you saw last night. Then, I'm gonna talk about the Yankees for four hours. Back aftah this.

Alright, NFL week two is almost in the books, and I gotta man up here. I gave Rex Ryan and his team a lotta grief last week when they came up small against the Ravens. I was rough on him with my words. I did not treat him kindly with my mouth.

I called Rex classless. I said he was a joke. I said Mawk Sanchez was not an NFL quawtaback. I said some terrible things about Darelle Revis, and LaDainian Tomlinson, and Curtis Martin, just to be safe.

But let's face it, the Jets had a big game yesterday against the Pats. A hu-yuge game. An enawmous contest. A gargantuan other-word-for-game. A game that they really had to win, if you wanna be honest. But they did, and I gotta give 'em credit.

They shut me up. After trashin em all last week, I cannot say one thing about the Jets, because I was wrong about em. They did their job and then some, and also more. So I can't talk at all about the Jets. They are a team that I can not uttah a single word about. I gotta just shut my mouth about the Jets. You will not hear anothah syllable from me in regards to the Jets. If there are sounds coming out of my windpipe that resemble the patterns of speech normally associated with language, you can guarantee they will not be about the Jets, for that is a team that I can say nothin about.

Alright, let's go to the phones. Paulie is callin from Ho-Ho-Kus. Paulie, what's going on?

Hey Mike, hu-yuge Giants fan here, but I gotta agree, you can't say nothin about the Jets after Sunday.

You can't. You just can't. Listen, the Jets shut me up. I'm done talkin about the Jets.

I was sayin a lotta the same things you was sayin about em...

I'm sure you were. We all were sayin things. You know the things we were sayin. I can't say em no more, but you know what I was sayin.

Exactly. But now, I gotta just keep my mouth shut about the Jets.

You will not hear a peep outta me about the Jets this week. Not one. Of course, if they stink up the joint in Miami next weekend, I'll be screamin at em again. But I can't talk about that, because it hasn't happened yet. For now, I will not say anything about the Jets. Don't ask me to talk about the Jets. I'm done!

On last question, Mike. I got this buddy at work, huge Jets fan. He's been givin me crap all day about how the Giants did against the Colts. Can I beat him savagely with a tire iron?

You not only can, you must. Alright, we got a go to a break, but when we come back, I'll have Jon Heyman on, and he'll tell me stuff that other writers tweeted three hours ago. Stay tuned for that.

With the NFL season about to kickoff, Scratchbomb has asked a few luminaries to give us their takes on the upcoming football season. For our final installment, I've asked Taser Grandma, America's oldest and most lovable taser salesperson, who you can follow on Twitter here.

THAT'S RIGHT, I'M TASER GRANDMA. GOT 16 WONDERFUL GRANDCHILDREN AND A WHOLE WAREHOUSE FULLA TASERS THAT I'M SELLIN AT LOW, LOW PRICES! SOME OLDSTERS GIVE THEIR GRANDKIDS BUTTERSCOTCH CANDIES. ME, I GIVES EM TASERS! THEY LOVE SHOCKIN EACH OTHER BY THE OL' TIRE SWING!

AND I LOVES ME SOME FOOTBALL, TOO! ALMOST AS MUCH AS I LOVES TASERIN! THERE'S ONLY ONE THING MORE THRILLIN THAN WATCHING THE PIGSKIN WARRIORS BATTLE IT OUT ON THE GRIDIRON, AND THAT'S ZAPPIN A FULL GROWN MAN WITH THE SHOCKMEISTER 500, ON SALE DIRECT FROM ME, TASER GRANDMA! WATCHIN HIM CRUMPLE TO THE GROUND LIKE A SACK A CHARRED TATERS!

I'M HOPIN TO GET AN ENDORSEMENT DEAL WITH THE NFL. I SEEN WHAT THEM COPS DID TO THAT NOGOODNIK WHAT RAN ON THE FIELD IN PHILADELPHIA, AND I GOT ME AN IDEAR. WHY NOT EQUIP EVERY SEAT IN EVERY SPORTS STADIUM WITH A TASER? PURE ENNERTAINMENT! EVERYONE COULD GET UP FOR THE 7TH INNING TASE! NOTHIN MORE THRILLIN THAN WATCHIN A WHOLE ARENA DROP LIFELESS!

ROGER GOODELL WON'T RETURN MY CALLS! IF HE KNOWS WHAT'S GOOD FOR HIM, HE'LL PICK UP THAT PHONE. OR ELSE HE'LL PICK UP A COUPLE THOUSAND VOLTS!

WHO'M I PICKIN TO WIN THE AFC WEST THIS YEAR? THE CHARGERS OF COURSE! I LIKE THE CUT OF THAT BOLT MAN'S JIB! AND THAT SHAWN MERRIMAN SURE CAN HIT HARD! ALMOST AS HARD AS THE SHOCKMEISTER 500! THAT'S THE TRUTH! THE SHEER, BALL-RATTLING TRUTH!

HE DON'T HIT AS HARD AS THE ORIGINAL TASERS, THOUGH. WHEN I WAS A LITTLE GIRL, TASERS WERE JUST A PAIR OF RUSTY PLIERS HOOKED UP TO A CAR BATTERY! YOU EITHER STOPPED YOUR ASSAILANT'S HEART OR GAVE HIM TETANUS!

I LIKES THE CHARGERS BUT I DON'T CARE FOR THAT PHILLIP RIVERS. SOMETHING ABOUT THAT FACE JUST DON'T SIT RIGHT WITH ME. I'D LIKE TO GIVE THAT BOY A SPANKIN--A TASER SPANKIN! IF YOU WANNA HUMBLE SOMEONE, JUST GIVE EM A DOSE OF VITAMIN T. NOTHIN'S MORE HUMBLIN THAN GETTIN YOUR PRIVATES-HAIR SINGED OFF!

BUT WHO I REALLY DON'T LIKE IS THEM RAIDERS FANS. DRESSIN UP LIKE IT'S HALLOWEEN EVERY GOL-DURN SUNDAY. THEY'RE GONNA THINK IT'S THE FOURTH OF JOO-LIE WHEN SENDS UP MY FIREWORKS--MY TASER FIREWORKS! Y'EVER TASE A RAIDERS FAN? IT'S GREAT! SPARKS ARCIN ALL OVER THE SPIKES ON THEIR SILVER SAMURAI PIRATE GET UPS!

SOME FOLKS THINK THE CHIEFS IMPROVED, BUT I THINKS THE ONLY THING THAT GOT BETTER WAS THE TARGET FOR MY TASER! THAT CHARLIE WEIS IS A BIG FELLA, AIN'T HE? MAYBE LIGHTNIN JUICE'LL GET THAT BLUBBER OFF YOU, FATTY!

AS FOR THE BRONCOS, THAT TIM TEBOW FELLER'S A BIT TOO HIGH AND MIGHTY IF YOU ASK ME. HE NEEDS TO BE TAKEN DOWN A PEG. AND THE BEST PEG-TAKIN-DOWN TOOL THERE IS? YOU GUESSED IT, A GOOD OL' FASHIONED TASERIN.

AND IF MR. TEBOW'S IN THE MARKET, WE GOTS A FULL LINE OF RELIGIOUS-THEMED TASERS. THE SHEPHERD 316 IS A CROSS-SHAPED TASER WITH THE LORD'S PRAYER TASTEFULLY INSCRIBED ON THE OBVERSE SIDE, SO'S YOU CAN COMMUNE WITH THE MAN UPSTAIRS WHILST YOU SEND SOME NO GOOD PUNK TO HELL!

With the NFL season about to kickoff, Scratchbomb has asked a few luminaries to give us their takes on the upcoming football season. Next up, WFAN drive-time personality Mike Francesa.

Ugh, I gotta do my ovah/undahs again? Jeez. Okay. Hey Bill, Frank, Tommy, whatevah my producah's name is, how come you didn't tell me soonah about the NFL season startin? That's how we're runnin things now, huh? Okay.

/drums fingers for 30 seconds

Alright, let's look at the NFC West. You sure I gotta do the NFC West? I couldn't do the AFC East? I wanted to tweak the Jets and Rex Ryan some more. Okay, fine, whatevah.

Boy, dis is a rough division. Not a lotta contendahs in dis one. Don't think a Supah Bowl champ is gonna come outta this division. If you ask me, these are four teams that aren't very good at football, if you get what I'm sayin. Where to begin?

/exhales loudly for four minutes

I guess by default you gotta pick the 49ers. A good team. Not a great team, but a good team. Can't trust Alex Smith, but they're the best of a bad field.

Not in love with Arizona. Not anymore. Not a lot to love with this team. They had Kurt Warner, he's gone. Leinart, goodbye. What a losah. What a uttah disgrace. Not the same team that went to the Supah Bowl. Lotta changes. Lotta turnovah. Lotta people used to be here who aren't here now, and vice versa, and also the opposite.

/reads aloud from Daily News for 15 minutes

Seahawks, oh brothah. There's anothah team with nothin. You got Pete Carroll and the whole USC mess followin him up there. You got Matt Hasselbeck, he's a disastah. And you got, what else? I don't even know. I guess I could look up the rostah, or have my intern read it to me, but I'm too busy tryin to keep that kid from eating my egg roll.

And the Rams? Good Lawd, they are terrible. Awful. Awwwful. Horrible. Almost as bad as the Mets, who I will now abuse for 20 straight minutes apropos of nothing. You know who this team could use? Brandon Inge. Or maybe Bronson Arroyo. Very undahrated playahs. I like them both. I like them both a lot. A huge amount. A metric ton of like.

Alright, let's go to the phones. We got Tony in Bayside.

Thanks for taking my call, Mike. I gotta say, the 5 hours you're on the air every week are the happiest minutes of my life.

Go on.

You were wondering about the Seahwaks, and while I agree they're not gonna be good this year, they did add Leon Washington, who might be...

Where'd you get that from, the innernets?

I looked it up on the Seahawks' Web site. It's just that, you couldn't think of any players Seattle acquired, and I wanted to help. Please don't hang up on me, Mike. I'll die without you!

How dare you give me information from a reputable sawce?! Get outta my sight?

/handwave

Alright, coming up we got Phil Simms in studio. I'll ask him questions about the NFL playoff picture and answer them before he has a chance to speak.

With the NFL season about to kickoff, Scratchbomb has asked a few luminaries to give us their takes on the upcoming football season. Next up, soon-to-be-retired Atlanta Braves manager Bobby Cox.

Oh, Jesus H. Fuck, ump! You gotta be shitting me! That was a god damn strike! Get the dicks out of your eyes!

/mumbles incoherently for ten minutes

They're fuckin us big time today, Leo. They are fucking us like cheap whores, and they don't even have the common god damn courtesy to pay for it.

Who does Valentine have warming up in the bullpen? Cook? Mahomes? I'm gonna send up Howard Battle, so he'll burn Cook, then swap him out for Ryan Klesko. That son of a bitch won't know what hit him.

Unless he brings in Wendell. Fuck almighty, hadn't thought of that.

Hey Leo, get Avery up in the bullpen. I don't care if his god damn arm is on fire! Get him warmed up, for fuck's sake!

Whaddya mean Avery's retired?! Fine, get up Russ Springer, Terry Mulholland, Mark Wohlers, and some other guy warmed up then.

Roger, who's Roger? You? Since when are you named Roger, Leo?

The NFC South? Shitballs, I dunno. The Saints won last year, didn't they? Put some money on the Saints then. I like that Reggie Bush feller. And Archie Manning, he's a good'un.

Christ on a washline, ump! That was a strike! I mean a ball, it was a ball, for fuck-on-fire's sake!

/umpire ejects him

Jesus, these umps got rabbit ears these days. Can't hardly question their sexuality without getting rung up. If anyone needs me, I'll be in my office, watchin my stories.

With the NFL season about to kickoff, Scratchbomb has asked a few luminaries to give us their takes on the upcoming football season. Next up, Peyton Manning.

I know what you're thinking--that's not fair, how can they ask a player on one these teams to do a preview of the division? But I'm not actually Peyton Manning the quarterback. I'm Peyton Manning the Sony spokesman. The 3D one, not the flat one.

You see, there's actually several dozen Peyton Mannings, each with its own unique job. For games alone, there are 15 different Peytons. There's a 30 Yard Bomb Peyton, a Slant Pass Peyton, a Blame the Offensive Line Peyton...you didn't think one human could do all those things, did you?

And of course, there's a different Peyton for each product he endorses. Aside from me, there's the Gatorade Peyton, the MasterCard Peyton, the Sprint Peyton, and a few Peytons reserved for special acting appearances like Saturday Night Live. Just don't confuse me with the Oreo Peyton. That's insulting.

To be honest, I'm not the most football savvy of the Peytons. But I've picked up a few things from hanging out with the QB Sneak Peyton, and I think I can assess this division fairly and accurately. And in my opinion, the Colts are the team to beat once again.

Never mind the incomparable marketability of the Peyton Manning Collective. Just think about the emergence of Pierre Garcon. He has tons of endorsement potential he's barely tapped into, both here in the US and in the Caribbean! He could be the gateway to a whole French-speaking audience that's never been fully exploited yet. And I haven't even mentioned the possibilities for ruggedly handsome Dallas Clark !

I don't see who can overtake the Colts for sheer marketing power. The Texans are clearly a team on the rise, but Matt Schaub hasn't taken that big step forward to take advantage of the commercial opportunities in a big city like Houston. You're telling me he couldn't step up his game and do a spot for some oil company if he really wanted to?

Tennessee showed some promise last year, but you have to wonder if the weird controversies Vince Young got mixed up in will dog them again this season. It's such a shame. Vince was such a dynamic player in college, with so much potential. He could have parlayed that talent into a national ad with Lay's or Sears, at least. Now he'd be lucky to land a Quizno's spot. *shudder*

The only team that could possibly challenge Indy is Jacksonville. Football-wise, they're probably the weakest team in the division. But I see a potential breakout season for Mike Sims-Walker. With an electrifying touchdown celebration like the Choppa City Juke, he could easily get himself a guest spot on Dancing with the Stars. Can't say that about Andre Johnson!

Gotta split--I'm meeting Justin Timberlake #3 and Toyota Eli Manning for lunch.

With the NFL season about to kickoff, Scratchbomb has asked a few luminaries to give us their takes on the upcoming football season. Next up, Cleveland Browns superfan John "Big Dawg" Thompson.

Who, me? You're not gonna ask somebody from somewhere else?

You're goddamn serious? *sigh* Okay, great here we go. Whoopee.

Yeah, I'm excited about this season. Gonna be great watching Jake Delhomme do the...thing...with the football. Mike Holmgren should be able to, um, do some things with this...team.

Gonna be tough, of course. The Ravens have Joe Flacco and Ray Lewis and Ray Rice, but we've got Colt McCoy!

And the Steelers have won two Super Bowls in the last five seasons and Troy Polamalu looks healthy again. But hey, Cleveland's got Bobby Engram.

And the Bengals have T.O. and Ochocinco and Carson Palmer, but the Browns...the Browns have...

FUCK YOU! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO ASK ME TO DO THIS?! FUCK YOU IN HALF! YOU SEE THIS DOG MASK? IT ISN'T A MASK ANYMORE! I GOT PLASTIC SURGERY TO MAKE MY FACE LOOK LIKE THIS! I DID THIS FOR A FOOTBALL TEAM! A HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE FOOTBALL TEAM! WHY DID I DO THIS TO MYSELF?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!

At least Cleveland still has the best basketball player in the world. OH WAIT, NO WE DON'T. HE SHIT ALL OVER US TO PLAY SECOND FIDDLE IN MIAMI. LEBRON WOULD RATHER BE #2 THERE THAN #1 HERE. THANK GOD WE DON'T HAVE A HOCKEY TEAM, BECAUSE THEY'D JUST SHIT ALL OVER MY DREAMS, TOO!

WHY DO YOU THINK I GOT CAUGHT ON A DUI RAP LAST YEAR? I JUST WANT THIS VALE OF TEARS TO END! LET ME DIE AND COME BACK AS AN ASSHOLE COWBOYS FAN AND MAYBE I'LL KNOW HAPPINESS IN THE NEXT LIFE! ARRRRRRRRRGH!

You know what, though, I think Josh Cribbs is gonna have a monster year, I can just feel it.

With the NFL season about to kickoff, Scratchbomb has asked a few luminaries to give us their takes on the upcoming football season. Next up, the Republican representative for Minnesota's 6th Congressional district, Michelle Bachmann.

I'm so excited for the NFL season to start up again. Football is the great American pastime, because it has so many of the things that made this country great, like helmets and shoving. Granted, I'm not a big fan of its socialist salary caps, but I do like the fact that ungrateful employees can be cut at a moment's notice with no consequences at all. Someday I hope to bring that kind of forward-thinking right-to-work-ism to the great state of Minnesota!

It was very disappointing to watch the Vikings lose last year's NFC championship game to the Saints. I thought for sure Minnesota would triumph over a city like New Orleans, which had the nerve to say we didn't respond to Hurricane Katrina quickly enough after we gave them all that surplus food and government trailers, and even let them crash at the Superdome for a coupla days. I swear, you give some people several hundred inches of water and they'll take a mile!

These people could learn a lot from Brett Favre, a man who got to where he is from hard work and perseverance and good ol' hard work. He didn't ask for any handouts, no siree Bob! All Brett needs is an entire off season to decide if he wants to play or not, and if so, for which team. And of course, he needs a team with a good supporting cast like the Vikings have. A supporting cast that will say "Okay Brett, just take yer time there," and be okay with not knowing exactly who they should take in the draft.

Brett can't do it alone, of course. He's got Adrian Peterson, who's not only the best running backs in the whole sport, but has a fine, solid Scandinavian name despite being a Black! And Percy Harvin is quite the wide receiver, even if he has a name that sounds kind of womany. But better a womany first name than a Muslim-y first name, like a certain commander-in-chief who shall remain nameless. (Here's a hint: it rhymes with "Barack".)

I look up and down this division, and I don't see another team that has the kind of all-American sticktoit-ivity of Brett Favre. Jay Cutler whined his way out of Denver, but now he's getting his comeuppance: he has to QB a crummy team like the Bears. That's what the Chinese call "kar-ma".

Aaron Rodgers had a good year for Green Bay, but you can't trust a man with a mustache like that. A clean upper lip means a clean mind! That's exactly why Obama is clean shaven--he wants us to think he's on our side. There's no other explanation!

As for Detroit, they're getting exactly what they deserve after handing an entire industry over to the evil clutches of labor unions. That's right--consequence-free bailout money. And also Matt Stafford.

Brett Favre will lead the Vikings to the Super Bowl, just like George Washington led the Union army to victory on the beaches at Normandy. Did you know that the last time I looked in my children's history books, this historic incident was not mentioned once?! That's the Obama administration for ya, trying to make us ashamed of all our nation's accomplishments.

With the NFL season about to kickoff, Scratchbomb has asked a few luminaries to give us their takes on the upcoming football season. Next up, Monsanto's experiment number X47-21A, also known as the Cow-Boy.

Despite my appearance, I enjoy football as much as any other red-blooded American male. I say 'male' rather than 'man' because I can not technically call myself a man. I'm not sure what I can call myself, as what I am exactly has not yet been determined by the FDA. Also, the UN has yet to decide if I have a right to exist, but until then, I will continue to watch the ol' pigskin being tossed around.

Of course, it's not an actual pigskin. The NFL uses a synthetic pigskin, made from a real synthetic pig. One of them used to stay in the same lab as me. His name was Gerald. I was real proud when he got into a Chargers-Raiders game a few seasons ago.

I watch lots of football in my room on the Monsanto Dynamic Solutions campus. I like it almost as much as when Dr. Tarsus allows me to stretch and graze in my lawn-pen. Naturally, people assume I'm a Cowboys fan, but I like the Texans better. We see them more often in our local market, and I love Andre Johnson. He moves like a gazelle. In fact, he moves a lot like this half-gazelle/half-jaguar creature that used to live here, last seen leaping the walls in a vain attempt at freedom. I heard they had to call in black helicopters to take him down.

However, I can recognize the Cowboys' strengths, and I feel they shall prevail in the NFC East this season. I'm afraid they have too many offensive weapons, and their defense is too formidable, to be overtaken in what may shape up to be a weak division. Tony Romo finally proved he can win a playoff game, and though he faltered against Minnesota in the divisional round, he gained a lot of valuable experience.

I know there's a lot of Cowboys haters out there, but please don't shoot the messenger! I've gotten enough shots today as it is. I require 37 daily injections so my four stomachs won't consume themselves.

There used to be a nice lady in a white coat who fed me from a bottle and stroked the nape of my neck. She is gone now.

I look up and down this division and see so many question marks. The Giants' defense has been wracked by injury and ineffectiveness, and Eli Manning--despite having a Super Bowl ring--makes mistakes that a quarterback of his experience really should not. Much like my old keeper, Dr. Crenshaw, was devoured by his worst mistake, the fearsome Raptor-Man.

The Redskins, I'm afraid, having little going for them to begin with, and they certainly don't need the Albert Haynesworth mess distracting them even further. Donovan McNabb might have something left in the tank, but who knows how long he can stay healthy.

I'd also like to call on Washington to eschew their racist nickname, as it is degrading and dehumanizing. I know what it's like to be dehumanized, or at least to be never fully humanized.

As for the Eagles, regardless of the year McNabb has, I believe they will miss him. Relying on Kevin Kolb or Michael Vick to turn in a solid season is like relying on my fingers to stop reforming themselves into hooves.

Sometimes life seems like a cruel joke played on me and me alone.

I can't say how far the Cowboys will go this year. Injuries can ruin any team's chances, and perhaps some young rookie will emerge and energize another team into contention. But I think it's safe to say they're the team to beat in the NFC East. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to submit to my thrice daily nutrient-rich spine injection to prepare for the blood quickening.

With the NFL season about to kickoff, Scratchbomb has asked a few luminaries to give us their takes on the upcoming football season. First up, frequent Scratchbomb contributor Sean from Massapequa will preview the AFC East.

I know I normally write about baseball on this site, but trust me, I know my football. I work for the City, which gives me plenty a time to dick around on the internet and do my research. And according to my research, there's only four words you need to know about the AFC East this year: J-E-T-S!

Normally, those are letters, but when you're talkin about the Jets, each letter is so powerful it becomes its own word. There's a term for this in science, but I forget what it is.

Now that Darelle Revis has finally signed an extension, there is no stopping this team. NONE. We got Revis, we got Sanchez, we got LDT, we got Santonio Holmes, and we got Rex Ryan, the best damn coach this team has ever had. Ya hear that, Weeb Ewbank? Screw you and that weird-ass name a yours.

We are gonna stomp the whole damn league this year. You heard Rex on Hard Knocks, didn't you? And if you did hear him, what did he say? I can't watch that show now that the next door neighbor I'm stealin cable from don't get HBO no more.

Who's standing in the Jets' way? The Patriots? They got nothin cept Tom Brady, and what's he done? Yeah, three Super Bowl rings, but that was all cuz of the secret cameras they was usin. You know when Brady was hurt most a the year in 2008? Commissioner Goodell secretly suspended him for installing a surveillance system in the visitor's locker room. Just like when Michael Jordan "played baseball" for a year. That is a known fact.

The Dolphins? We took Jason Taylor away from them schmucks, they're done. Yeah, I guess Brandon Marshall should be pretty good this season hookin up with Chad Henne, but here's what I'm sayin: what if he's not? You won't hear the liberal media reportin that.

As for Buffalo, sometimes I think it's kinda sad what's happened to them. They went to four Super Bowls in a row, and now they're just a joke. But then I remembered I bet on the Bills in every one a dem Super Bowls, so fuck em. If I ever see Jim Kelly in the street, I'm gonna make him eat a brick.

Yup, the Jets are gonna have a banner year. Not that I'm gonna get to see much of it. I used to get into all the games for free thanks to my buddy, Tony. His company took care a the sanitation at Giants Stadium. All's I had to do was wear an orange jacket and pick up a coupla plastic beer cups.

But now that the Meadowlands got a brand new arena, the Jets don't wanna give a break to small, local business owners with no-bid contracts no more. I guess Tony's RICO conviction didn't help, neither. Hey, find me a trash hauler in Jersey that hasn't killed a few guys, I dare you!

The Jets gotta do it this year. Cuz after the last four years of the Mets shitting the bed, this is all I got to look forward to. That's right, Jets: win it all or I end it all! And you're gonna have a lotta blood on your hands, Jets, cuz I fully intend to take out a lot of innocent people with me.

J-ET-S! JETS! JETS JETS!

Nike and CBS have filed a class action lawsuit against USC's football program, seeking damages for loss of income.

"The impending NCAA sanctions against USC football, which include a two-year ban from postseason play, will reduce the program's visibility, and thus have a severe impact on the plaintiff's bottom line," the lawsuit states. "When the school violated the spirit of the NCAA's commitment to amateur athletics, they should have considered how that act would impact the millions of dollars we have invested in their program."

Pete Carroll, former USC football coach, contested the lawsuit's implication. "The USC I know would never commit recruiting violations or pay our players in any way," Carroll said, "because nothing is more important to us than our corporate partnerships."

The NCAA has yet to comment on the lawsuit. "Our rules committee will review this case as soon as possible," the league said through a spokesman. "Right now, we are preoccupied with completely destroying some conferences."

Here to present his opinion on why a Super Bowl in New York is a bad thing is A Giant Douchebag.

I'm only gonna say this once, because time is money, capisce? Especially my time. I make more caysh in one afternoon than you do all year. I don't know who you are, but if you're 98 percent of the population, what I just said is true.

The Super Bowl should NOT be in a cold-weather city in an outdoor stadium in the middle of December, or whenever the hell the Super Bowl is. We have a Super Bowl so titans of marketing like yours truly can go schmooze and hob nob with other titans of marketing for a week. If you have it in a city like New York, I'll be freezing for those 30 seconds when I'm getting out of my limo and climbing into the stadium shuttle bus.

Some people think snow and cold weather are great for football. Hey numbnuts, get your dicks outta your ears and listen: I could give two shits about football. Same goes for everyone else who goes to the Super Bowl. We're here to party on the company dime and be seen. If everyone else in the industry gathered around a steaming pile of diarrhea, I'd go to that, too, and I wouldn't have to pretend I like a buncha thyroid cases in spandex running around, either.

New York's great, don't get me wrong. Where else could I spend so much dough on so little? I know this place in Soho that sells $7000 fortune cookies. The same exact ones you can get from a take out place. I bought one, cuz I could and you can't.

But how am I supposed to pull up to some hot club in my Maserati in New York winter weather? You know what road salt does to a Maserati? Of course you don't, because you've never seen one. My Maserati's even more special than all the other ones you've never seen, because mine has a special paint job. Oils mixed by Da Vinci. No shit. I have to get it recoated every time the temperature goes over 75 degrees. Costs me a fucking fortune, not that it matters to me.

Here's the other bad thing about New York: the people who work here aren't thrilled to see you. There's too many big shots here already, so when an A-list mad man like myself shows up, no one gives a shit. Not like other Super Bowls I've been to. When I went to Jacksonville, I paid six guys to carry me around on their shoulders from club to club. In Detroit, I ordered foie gras at this one restaurant, ate it, and paid a waitress to let me regurgitate it back into her mouth, like a bird.

You can't get away with that in New York. The waitresses there are all uppity. Even the strippers act like they got dignity!

Hold on, I gotta take this.

NO, I SAID 6:47 FLIGHT, NOT A 6:48 FLIGHT, YOU STUPID CUNT! I SWEAR TO ASS-RAPING GOD, IF I'M ONE SECOND LATE TO SUNDANCE NEXT YEAR, I AM GOING TO MAIL YOU MY SHIT IN A BOX FROM ASPEN AND MAKE YOU EAT IT, AND MAKE YOU VIDEOTAPE YOURSELF EATING IT SO I CAN WATCH IT WITH THE WEINSTEIN BROTHERS!

Gotta roll. Meeting a Murdoch for lunch. Can't remember which one, doesn't matter.

A Giant Douchebag demands to know if you know who he is.

The image below is a screengrab I took from Yahoo! Sports' front page yesterday. Peep the caption below Toby Gerhart's pic and see how long it takes you to get to a needle-pulled-across-the-record moment.

No, it's not the word "evaluator". No, it's not the words "downgrade" or "legitimate". It's those last two words. You know, the ones that have caused a lot of trouble in this country during its entire existence.

The article this links to, penned by Michael Silver, is slightly more provocative, as you might be able to tell from the title "Race Factors into Evaluation of Gerhart". And if that didn't clue you in, the teasers seen in this screengrab I took later the same day would surely clue you in.

The thrust of the article: Gerhart (fresh out of Stanford) is a very good running back who could go to some lucky team in the first round of the NFL draft--if only he were black! Instead, he can only dream of the tarnished glory of being a second-round pick at best. Curse this pasty visage!

To be fair, Silver does not arrive at this conclusion out of thin air. He has quotes from an anonymous scout who reached the same conclusion, and Gerhart shares his experience during a team interview that indicated race was a factor in their thought process. And he is far from the only writer to pen an article on this subject. A quick Google search reveals tons of articles about Gerhart The White Running Back.

Regardless, to say a white guy faces prejudice of any kind while also saying that black guys get all the breaks is, at best, touchy, and worst, foolishly ignorant of what consitutes prejudice. Gerhart isn't exactly being kept down by the lack of color of his skin. He finished second in Heisman voting this past year. He is highly regarded by many talent evaluators. (There are also some who question his ability to play as well in the NFL as he did in college, for reasons that have nothing to do with a lack of melanin.)

The question is not "Will he get picked at all?", but "Will he get picked in the first round?" Basically, it's a question of whether he gets ridiculous first round money or slightly less ridiculous second/third round money.

Is there a perception that white guys can't be running backs in the NFL? Yes. That's a stereotype, but it's not prejudice. Stereotyping is when you say something dumb and racist. Prejudice is when you won't let certain people move into your neighborhood. Words can be hurtful, but they don't compare to someone not allowing you basic human rights.

Gerhart will get a chance with some team. He'll get a very good chance, in fact, because he will likely be a high-round draft pick, which means both big bucks and high expectations. He won't have to play in a separate, all-white league. He won't have to move to another country where he can freely ply his trade as a running back. If he takes the field for an NFL team, he won't have garbage thrown at him and receive death threats against his family.

And if he fails? It will be because he just wasn't good enough, not because there was a vast conspiracy keeping him down. Oh, and he'll have a degree from Stanford to fall back on, which, last time I checked, was kind of a big deal.

Don't worry, sportswriters. No matter what happens with Gerhart, I think white guys will make it through okay.

As I wrote in a recent post, the word "hero" is thrown around a bit too freely in the sports world. However, I heard a true sports hero this weekend.

As I was scooting around on Super Bowl Sunday, I listened to Mike Francesa's "The NFL Now" program in the car, because my brain hates my ears. My beef with Francesa is well documented. Up until this year, most of that beef was confined to his agenda-driven conduct during the baseball season. I still found his football work to be at least listenable.

But as the Jets made an improbable playoff run, he dismissed all of their accomplishments in the same snide, condescending manner he uses to talk about the Mets. When they made the postseason, it didn't count because the Colts and Bengals didn't try in weeks 16 and 17. When they beat the Bengals on the road, it was because of Cincinnati's mistakes. When they beat the Chargers on the road, again it was no big deal the Jets had taken down one of the best offenses in the NFL on their home turf.

Did the Jets draw an enormous amount of luck to get as far as they did? Of course. But who cares? The sheer improbability of all should have been enjoyed for what it was by anyone unlike Francesa, who traffics in misery for a living. It was a sickening, transparent attempt to both tweak Jets fans and get fans of other teams to cheerlead him.

The most frustrating thing about Francesa is that his medium (radio) doesn't allow for any kind of counterpoints he doesn't want to hear. If he wrote for a newspaper or a web site, you could comment on his completely faulty reasoning. Instead, he only welcomes callers who will kiss his ring.

On the rare occasion someone who disagrees with him gets on the air, Francesa merely screams at the poor guy until he gives up. I heard one call a few weeks ago where a reasonable caller accused Francesa of discounting the Jets because he didn't like them, and because their continued success made him look stupid. Francesa's voice got louder and louder with each response, and his counterpoints made such insane logical leaps they could only be explained by quantum physics. Eventually, the man on the phone couldn't get a word in edgewise and had to abandon ship.

Radio also being an ephemeral medium, Francesa doesn't get called out when he makes off-the-cuff, borderline slanderous remarks. Or when he just gets things wrong, like mispronouncing the name of Colts head coach Jim Caldwell. Throughout the football season, Francesa has referred to the Indianapolis coach as CaRdwell. Not once, or twice, or even a few times. All season long.

But yesterday morning, some brave, genius soul managed to get on the air with Francesa. This man not only called him out on his idiocy, but also made Francesa look like even more of an imperious buffoon than usual, as he mumbled he didn't "have time" to bother with getting Caldwell's name right because it was early on a Sunday morning. Yes, you work a whole 30 hours a week--when could you possibly look up the actual name of the AFC champion's coach?



God bless you, Rich in Massapequa. A man can stand up!

Hat tip to the hilarious @MikeFrancesaNY for the YouTube link.

Tim Tebow here, Heisman trophy winning quarterback and future NFL backup tight end. I want to use this extremely expensive chunk of Super Bowl commercial time to tell you an important story. Because I'm a giver.

The story goes like this: When my mother was pregnant with me, she was told by her doctors that she had a life-threatening health condition. Giving birth to me could have severely harmed her, even killed her. She was faced with a terrible, terrible choice no woman should ever have to make.

That's why I'm teaming up with Focus on the Family to make sure no woman has to make that choice again. No, not by helping to find cures for women's reproductive diseases, silly! I mean by banning abortion once and for all. Then, the choice will already be made for all women!

You see, life is precious, especially the life of an unborn child. It's more precious, in fact, than the life of the mother carrying that child, even if--nay, especially if--giving birth to that child will kill her. Why? Because of an incredibly complicated bit of celestial calculus. God's math is different from our earthly, sinful math. It is not up to us to judge God's math. Because unlike you and me, God doesn't have to show all his work.

Focus on the Family is an organization that does just that: we focus on the family. All families. We focus on every single detail of every single family. Where they work. How they raise their children. What TV shows they watch. Who they vote for. It's a big job, but somebody has to do it!

We also want to teach the families we focus on to pay that focus forward. By focusing on neighboring families, for instance. Scrutinizing them. Reporting suspicious families to the proper authorities. Of course, many of the family transgressions we want to focus on aren't illegal. But don't worry, we're focusing on fixing that, too.

We also know there are some untraditional "families" out there, too, headed by single parents and other heathens. We don't really consider them families, but don't worry, we are definitely focusing on them. And we encourage all of our members to focus on them, too. Long and hard, and harshly. Hopefully, your intense, unblinking focus can focus those people right out of your god-fearing town!

Finally, I want to thank CBS for having the courage to not bow to public pressure from liberals and other hell-bound folks, and show this ad. I also want to thank CBS for having to courage to bow to pressure from groups like Focus on the Family and not air that gay dating site ad.

We welcome back Skitch Hanson to the Scratchbomb pages. You may know him from his nationally syndicated sports column, "Up the Middle". You may have also seen him on the ESPN roundtable discussion show, Mouth-Talkers! Or you may have read one of his 79 books, such as The Greatest Game You Never Saw and Possibly Didn't Happen at All. Without further ado, here's Skitch to talk about The Big Game.

Are there any more exciting words in the Sports Universe than "Super Bowl"? Not to this reporter! Except maybe "free buffet" or "case dismissed". There is no word too big to describe this event. Any newspaper man worth his salt, regardless of beat, must be there to take in the whole spectacle.

Sadly, my editor does not agree with that point of view. He thought my talents were better served trying to write a Super Bowl-related human interest story. "The farther away from Miami, the better," he said. I guess he's still peeved at me for what I did the last time I was in Miami for The Big Game.

As you may recall, that was a historic game that pitted two African-American coaches against one another for the first time in Super Bowl history. During the first Media Day press conference, I asked Lovie Smith if he beat Tony Dungy and the Colts, would that be considered Black-on-Black Crime? Some people took offense, but I think Lovie thought it was great. He even ran after me with his arms extended, his fingers grasping toward my throat, as if trying to give me a hug!

I protested my editor's decision, but there was no budging him. Sometimes, talking to him is like trying to get a word edgewise with my wife! Except my editor doesn't chuck whiskey bottles at me!

So I thought to myself, who would make a good human interest story for this Super Bowl? I can't go to Miami, so that eliminates any of the players actually participating in it. So how about players from the past? And who better to interview than ex-Saints players? Men who had to endure The Aints Years, decades of futility and embarrassment and golden tights.

Unfortunately, other folks had beaten me to the punch. I know it's hard to believe such an ingenious idea had already been taken by several dozen reporters, but it's true! By the time I started my research, nearly every person who'd ever put on a New Orleans uniform had already been profiled in one paper or another.

The more obvious targets were not an option anyway. Archie Manning won't speak to me after that time I accidentally shocked him with a pocket tape recorder and burned off all his hair (look, it grew back, didn't it, Archie?). And that kicker with the club foot refused to speak to me because I couldn't remember his name. But even the most obscure former Saints had already been taken by other writers.

The whole process was slow going, because I still do my research the old fashioned way: with a whole lot of elbow grease and shoe leather! And asking the secretary at the office where I can find some out-of-town phone books. The internet may be faster, but it can't make up for a determined, old school reporter. Plus, the last time I tried to look up something on the internet, I destroyed my computer. If a hard drive can break so easily, it doesn't sound so "hard" to me! Unless you're talking about the price to fix it, because that was definitely hard on my wallet, since the newspaper deducted the cost from my paycheck.

Finally, I found a forgotten tight end named Tommy Smith. He was drafted in the third round by New Orleans back in 1987, but never played a single down in the NFL, and retired from the league a few years later.

What a story! Can you imagine the frustration of not being to able to play for one of football's worst teams? What torture must this man have endured? How did it feel to get so close to his dream and yet still be so far away? Did he lay awake at night thinking of what might have been? And also, how is the postgame spread at The Superdome? Because I've heard mixed things.

So I visited Tommy Smith at his home in Abilene, Texas, a ramshackle little cottage on the edge of town. He had an old Chevy up on blocks, and a few sickly dogs running around his weed-filled backyard. It was certainly a hardscrabble existence for Mr. Tommy Smith since leaving the glory of the NFL, if this was his home.

Unfortunately, it wasn't his home. Turns out it was the home of a Tommy Smith, but not the Tommy Smith I was looking for. In retrospect, I had little evidence I was visiting the right address, or even the right town. But to be fair, I had no evidence that I wasn't.

The Tommy Smith I found was a shirtless, bearded man who told me to go away because he was too busy "tweakin'", then used a few words that I can't reprint in a family newspaper. I asked him who he was rooting for in the Super Bowl, and I think he said "Colts", but it might have been a burp. Then he slammed his screen door on my fingers and threatened to grab his shotugun.

Still, I think there's a valuable lesson in here for all of us. My journey to Abilene was a lot like the journey the Saints took to get to the Super Bowl. Years of missteps and blunders and testing the patience of their fans, who wondered if they'd ever pull themselves together. But lo and behold, the Saints have made it to the Super Bowl, and are one big step away from Valhalla.

I did not exactly succeed in my quest to find Tommy Smith, but I did succeed in not getting shot by a meth-crazed indigent. And in a way, I've made it to my own Valhalla. A small town named Valhalla, Texas, that is, and its Fresh-Aire Motel on beautiful route 27. They have wi-fi at only $17 a night, and an Applebee's right across the street. Jackpot!

If there's another lesson here from the story of me and Saints, it's this: don't be too hasty. Stay slow and steady, and success will come. You don't have to go chasing after the first name that resembles that of the man you're looking for, especially if that first name is found in a police report.

Now if you'll excuse me, I hear a Super Bowl calling me--a super bowl of Russian dressing to accompany my bloomin' onion, that is!

I am TRULY sorry for flipping off someone at an MMA fight in Miami this weekend. That behavior was unacceptable and I'm sorry if I EMBARRASSED the Jets organization.

Yes, it was wrong of me to attend a private event and be heckled by drunk idiots all night. In the future, I will be more careful about being in the presence of inebriated, foul-mouthed morons for extended periods of time.

Sure, extending my middle finger to someone was probably the least offensive thing occurring in that arena at the time, as I sat 50 feet away from two men beating each other mercilessly in a quote-unquote sport that's one step removed from bum fights. Not to mention that one of those men was a retired running back whose presence turned an already sordid event into a full-blown freak show.

But hey, none of that makes what I did any less wrong. Nor does the Daily News and Post sanctimoniously tsk-tsking me for my "shocking" actions, while also putting a picture of said shocking action on their front pages. Not to mention that one of those papers has no problem running a regular advice column penned by a former hooker. No, their rampant hypocrisy does not excuse what I did.

Finally, I want to make it clear that my apology is completely sincere, despite the fact that I've been making an exaggerated jerk-off gesture the entire time I delivered it.

We're into the waning seconds of regulation in the NFC championship game, all tied at 28, the Vikings have the ball, and they are on the precipice of field goal range. Now...wait a second, Minnesota just received a penalty for 12 men in the huddle. That will cost them five yards of precious field position.
Joe, that's because Brett Favre is so focused on the game. A lesser quarterback might have noticed there were too many players on the field, but Brett has a one track mind, which is what you really need in a winning quarterback.
I agree, Troy. Now the Vikings will try to get back into field range. Favre drops back, he's got some room to scramble, but he decides to throw for some reason, and the pass is picked off by Tracy Porter. Do you think that was a good decision, Troy?
Absolutely, Joe. What you saw there was Brett Favre trying to make the big play. He thought he could bounce a pass right off of Porter's helmet and into Bernard Berrian's arms. That kind of circus catch would have taken the wind right out of the Saints' sails. It didn't work out, but you can not blame Brett for trying. You simply CAN NOT.
Indeed, Troy. Brett Favre is not to blame here. Not for anything, ever. But that pick means we go into overtime. New Orleans wins the coin toss, so they will receive and try to drive down the field for the winning score.
Watch Brett Favre watching the game on the sideline. That is the way a true champion sits and watches. Head up, looking at the action. Not to the side, or above or below, but at the action.
You wanna talk about a champion watcher, Brett Favre is every bit of that. Oh, and Garrett Hartley nails a 40-yard field goal to win the game for the Saints. Now, Brett Favre will rise from the bench and head down the tunnel into the locker room.
This is a player who KNOWS how to walk into a locker room. One foot in front of the other. We are watching a professional.
It is just a joy to watch him walk. He walks like a little kid out there! And now he's in the locker room, and he's taking his socks off. And he's placed one of his socks on his right hand, and he's talking to it. And now the sock is "talking" back to him, like a puppet.
Again, this shows leadership. I don't know any other QB in the NFL who can talk to his socks like that. He is truly greater than Jesus.
Now he's popped the top off of a AA battery with his brute strength, and he's pouring the battery acid down his throat. Do you think that was a good decision, Troy?
I do, Joe. Most coaches in this league will tell you they don't want their QBs ingesting caustic chemicals, as would most doctors and rational human beings. But Brett Favre didn't get this far by listening to the so-called experts.
We'll take a break. When we come back, live coverage of Brett Favre lying on the floor, convulsing and foaming at the mouth. And if we have time, a few shots of the team that is technically going to the Super Bowl.

Before Saturday's MIND BLOWING playoff win in Cincinnati, I handed out a full practice and travel schedule to my team, which included a trip to the Super Bowl. And I took a lot of heat for being so presumptuous. But who's laughing now? Rex Ryan, that's who. And Rex Ryan is ME.

I handed out that schedule because I believe the Jets are that good. There is no reason we can not make it to the big dance. Hell, there's no reason we can't go to the Super Bowl eight years in a row. I DEFY you to tell me we can't.

In fact, this team can do anything it puts it mind to. I honestly believe this isn't simply isn't the best football team of all time, but possibly the most talented collection of individuals to ever walk the EARTH.

If we decided to play baseball, we'd be better than the 1927 Yankees. If we decided to play basketball, we'd be better than the Jordan-and-Pippen-era Bulls. If we decided to play hockey, I have no idea who we could be compared to because we'd be so good, we'd obliterate all memory of previous teams. And also because I'm not that big a hockey fan and can't think of any historically good hockey teams.

We are possibly the most skilled artists in the world, too. You should see Justin Keller's watercolors. He painted a prairie landscape that, I'm not ashamed to admit, brought me to tears. Nick Mangold is singlehandedly reviving the lost art of mosaics. And Braylon Edwards' mural work is, quite frankly, UNPRECEDENTED. If Picasso were alive and saw his murals, he'd set that piece of shit "Guernica" on fire and kill himself out of shame. That's a FACT.

We're also the greatest congregation of literary wits ever. You should hear the conversations we have during the postgame buffets. They make the Algonquin Roundtable sound like a buncha retards. Darrelle Revis let me read the manuscript for his new novel, and it was the most moving thing I've ever read. It changed me. It will ROCK American letters, just like he rocks unsuspecting wide receivers every Sunday.

Look, every coach believes in his team. That's half a coach's job. I just think that one day, people will worship the New York Jets instead of Jesus Christ. Why is that so outrageous?

* knock knock *

Hey Mark, it's Eli from next door.
What's up?
You know how the mailman is always mixing up our deliveries? Well, I got this package and I opened it, but I didn't realize it was for you. Sorry about that.
No problem, it happens. What's in the package?
A really shitty performance in a must-win game to close out your stadium.
Weird. I didn't order one of those. In fact, the UPS guy just dropped off a surprisingly dominant performance in a must-win game to close out a stadium.
Huh. You sure that wasn't for me?
The label said "Jets" on it.
You're sure it said "Jets"?
Positive.
Aw geez...now that I look at this package closer, yeah, it does have my name on it. I just, you know, was hoping maybe it didn't. It seems like the kinda thing you'd get.
Well, I didn't, so...
Like maybe the labels got mixed up at the...factory...or something...
So that's why you waited a week to bring it by?
It's the holidays. You know, everybody's out of town, and parties...and stuff...I've just been so busy, you know?
Listen, I gotta go pack for the playoffs, so...
Playoffs, huh? Those are fun. I won a Super Bowl, you know.
That was like three years ago, right?
I still won it!
And that was awesome! But I gotta split, okay? See you at the new place, okay?
/ slam
You're still gonna help me move, right?

As a fan of the Jets, of course I wanted them to beat the Colts on Sunday. But as a fan of non-douchebags, I wished Indy could stay undefeated. Because that would mean they had a chance to win all 19 games, and thus threaten the sore winner tyranny of the 1972 Dolphins. Up until two weeks ago, I hoped both the Saints and Colts would go undefeated in the regular season and win the AFC and NFC championships, thus ensuring there would finally be a completely undefeated team to knock those old crabs off their cheap throne.

In every other sport, when a record falls, the previous record holder (or his family) is on hand to congratulate the new champ and wish him/her well. Even Hank Aaron begrudgingly tipped his cap to Barry Bonds when he beat the all-time home run record. If anyone ever had a reason to flip off the guy who supplanted him in the record books, Aaron did. But Aaron decided the game was bigger than him and paid tribute to Bonds, because he's not a huge dick.

The '72 Dolphins don't suffer from such humility and perspective. They're like mountain climbers who've scaled Everest, and decide to take sniper shots at anyone else who attempts the feat. Each year, they literally pop champagne when the last undefeated team takes a loss--and brag about such poor sportsmanship, on top of it all. And make commercials about it, too.

They insist to whoever will listen about how they're the best team of all time, which, considering how much football has changed in the last 37 years, is borderline insane. Athletes are conditioned so much better in every single sport now, but especially infootball. Can you imagine the '72 Dolphins trying to block the linebackers of today? Just look at these guys. They'd be mashed into the ground by the Lions, let alone a decent team.

Oh, and they played one of the easiest schedules in NFL history. Not in the NFL that year. In NFL history. Their opponents that season had a .396 win percentage. They are in the 99th percentile in terms of ease of schedule, all time. An NFL team is less likely to play such an easy schedule every again than a person is likely to be born with a dorsal fin.

Two years ago, when the Patriots were in the midst of their undefeated (regular) season, Don Shula got all a-snitter about how Camera-Gate invalidated their accomplishments. He conveniently neglected to mention that his '72 Dolphins were not without their own ethical missteps.

He also tried to poke holes in many other grand achievements, on this very web site. It was quite a coup to get him to open up, I must say! You can take a trip down memory lane and read all about it here.

MINNEAPOLIS--Football fans tuning in to Monday night's battle between the Green Bay Packers and the Minnesota Vikings, which featured Brett Favre's first start against his former team, were treated to long stretches of silence. The culprit, according to scientists, was a psycho-energetic anomaly known as a "word squall" that rendered ESPN's Monday Night Football broadcast team incapable of speaking the phrase, "He's just having fun out there!"

"We're still not sure what causes the word squall phenomenon," said University of Minnesota physicist Jeff Gunderson. "Our theory is, sometimes the atmosphere is so filled with a certain series of words that it literally becomes saturated with them. In the leadup to the Packers/Vikings game, so many people had spoken that particular phrase that the air could not handle it any more."

Unable to physically utter those words proved trying for the play-by-play men. During the second quarter, Mike Tirico stammered, "Favre...looks...looks like...it kinda seems as if he's...enjoying himself...on the field."

As the teams headed to the locker rooms for halftime, Jon Gruden had similar difficulty. Each time he attempted to say the word "fun", it came out as "funicular". "I have no idea what that word means," he said. "Jaws, I'm scared." Ron Jaworski attempted to calm down Gruden by mentioning how much game film of Favre he'd watched over the years.

The situation came to a head in the game's waning minutes, as Favre aired out a pass to a receiver deep down field that fell incomplete. Unable to explain such a play by means other than a phrase they could not say, the broadcast trio began foaming at the mouth, then collapsed in a heap. All three were rushed to nearby hospitals and are listed in stable condition.

Gunderson said that the word squall seemed to have passed sometime last night, sufficiently enough for Dick Vitale to use the phrase 742 times on Mike and Mike in the Morning. But this remains one of the worst incidents he's ever seen. "Almost as bad as last year, when we had one involving the phrase 'oh what a play by Jeter!', and Michael Kay had an aneurysm."

Coach, the Patriots didn't put up any points at all in the second half, and they were limited to three field goals in the first half. Was that due to the Jets' defense, or is Tom Brady still rusty?

They have a good team no doubt. They have some players on that team, and those players executed.

Coach, did you feel your team was sufficiently prepared to play the Jets this week, or did your players maybe take this game for granted?

Our players always come to play. We don't take any opponent for granted. This team needs to execute.

Coach, even though Julian Edelman had a good day, do you think the absence of Wes Welker hurt the Patriots?

Everyone who played came here to play, and that is why sanitize on the pancake drip.

Huh?

Salmon fish stain curbstone Archuleta.

Patriots PR Man: Sorry, folks. We just upgraded his operating system, and it's a little buggy.

BAD COMMAND OR FILE NAME

Patriots PR Man: Here, let me try force quit...

ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO QUIT 'BELICHICKOTRON-2003'?

Patriots PR Man: Yes. Ugh, I hate this. Just watching the little CPU Usage register...I hope the file recovery feature works this time.

YOU CHOSE TO QUIT THE PROGRAM. DO YOU WANT TO SEND AN ERROR MESSAGE?

Patriots PR Man: No. Does anybody read those things? Now, let's see if this works...

EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!

Patriots PR Man: Oops, had it set on Dalek. Okay, here we go.

Execute. Execute. We need to execute. And also execute.

Patriots PR Man: There, back normal. Let me know if his casing gets too hot. Sometimes the hooded sweatshirt blocks his vent and he gets overheated.

Goddammit, I just built me a brand spankin' football palace, and my team played like this was a sandlot! You fellas should be ashamed a' yerselves! This was a disgrace, and I wants some answers! My boy Romo threw three picks last night. That is inexcusable! His head needs to be in the game! Someone dropped the ball on this one! What do you have to say for yourself, Franz Ackerman mural?
Yeah, I know that one pick was kind of a freak thing, but it came on a terrible throw! And what about our defense? We just let the Giants march up the field in the last minute and take this game! After we had 'em pinned at their end of the field, first and 20! Two third-down conversions! It's like you've never dealt with a two-minute drill before, Gary Simmons' "Blue Field Explosions"!
And special teams! Jesus, don't even get me started on the special teams! I can't even think of something particular ya did wrong, I'm so angry! An absolute embarrassment! You better have a damn good excuse, Doug Aitken lightbox sculpture!

In a complete non-shocker, Brett Favre has unretired.

The Worldwide Leader reacted the way it always reacts to any Favre news, which is to say, batshit insane. ESPN brought its viewers live aerial footage of Brett Favre driving to Vikings training camp. A local hospital was kind enough to let them use a Medivac chopper for this historic event.  

But ESPN didn't just show Favre driving to camp. Oh no. They showed us Favre exiting his car. They showed us Favre hugging random people. They showed us Favre climbing stairs.

And when he was finally inside the Vikings facility, out of the reach of helicopters, ESPN brought us extended coverage of the bare stage where he would eventually conduct a press conference, in a room that looked like a high school utility shed.

It was like the most boring student film you ever saw. For a whole day, ESPN abandoned sports news and dedicated itself to Andy Warhol-esque film experiments. ("Next up: Colin Cowherd stars in our remake of Sleep!")

But who are they airing all this garbage for? Packer fans feel betrayed. Vikings fans are unenthused (to say the least). And everyone else is sick to death of this manipulative goober. Even Peter King is a little pissed at getting jerked around by him, and King was Favre's number one jock sniffer as recently as two weeks ago.

There's no point in piling on Favre when the entire world (outside of Bristol, CT) hates him. I pretty much agree with Big Daddy Drew's sentiment: this guy doesn't love football (as all his admirers in the media have gushed over the years), he just loves being the guy on the football field that gets the glory. All the stuff you have to do to attain that glory (watch film, actually attend training camp) is for the other slobs, not superstars like him!

So no more Favre bashing from me--linebackers will be doing enough of that this year. But if you feel like guzzling some Haterade, enjoy this post from just around this time last year, when Favre royally dicked over the Packers for the first time. Original post here.

* * * *

Michael Vick, the ex-NFL quarterback recently released from prison, has promised to turn over a new leaf and is already making great strides to do so. According to sources close to Vick, he did not kill a single dog during his first 24 hours of freedom.

Reporters camped outside Vick's Hampton, Virginia home, hoping to get a glimpse of his first hours of freedom. Vick was seen greeting family and friends, eating dinner, and watching television. No muffled canine screams were discerned, nor did Vick repair to his backyard to dig any shallow graves by the light of the moon.

"It's hard to get used to life back on the outside," said a family friend who wished to remain anonymous. "He just got out of the joint. He's gonna wanna do all the things he used to do. He told me that when he walked in the front door of his house, the first thing he wanted to do was sit on his couch and watch a doberman get electrocuted.

"Before he went away, he totally woulda done it, too. I really think he wants to change."

"Some people can kill just a few dogs a day and stop," another friend told reporters. "But if Mike's around people who are killing dogs, he's gonna keep on killing and killing. So we can't be bringing our terriers around here to get their throats slit no more.

"He can't even throw a dachshund down a flight of stairs. That's gonna take some willpower."

Publicly, at least, Vick has vowed to curb his impulses. "I must admit, I tried to bargain with myself," he said at his post-release press conference. "I thought that I'd be okay if I just killed one dog a day, or if I restricted myself to killing only smaller dogs, like chihuahuas.

"But I realized that if I did that, I would wind up back in prison again. Not a prison of iron and concrete, but a prison of constantly killing dogs. That is not a prison I want to go back to. And I'd probably wind up in real prison, too, which is no picnic either.

"I can't think of it as 'Oh no, I can never kill a dog again.' I have to say, 'I'm not gonna kill a dog right now.' When I walk down the street, I have to say to myself, 'I won't crush that pitbull's skull with a cinder block'. One not-killed dog at a time."

I know I said that my New Year's resolution was to stop listening to WFAN, but consarnit, I'm a weak man. Last week, as I was dropping off laundry, I turned on my car radio and tuned into The Sports Leader. I will note, however, that it was Steve Somers, who is totally allowed under the parameters of my resolution.

However, even The Schmooze gets terrible callers, and on this occasion I heard a real doozy. I can't remember the guy's name. Let's call him Joey from Riverhead. First thing he says to Schmooze is that he's a huge Cowboys fan--despite having the thickest Lawn Guy Land accent you've ever heard. Strike one.

This baffles me. Whenever you listen to WFAN during football season, you will hear guys call in who have clearly never been further west than Weehawken in their entire lives, and yet root for teams that are over the map. I don't know what's crazier: that, or the fact that the hosts never call them on it. "Wait, you're from Yonkers but you call yourself 'a die-hard' Dolphins fan. How the hell did that happen?"

Next, he says that he can't get into the Super Bowl since the 'Boys aren't in it, so he can't wait for pitchers and catchers in a few weeks so he can "start watching god's other team, the Yankees." Strike two (pause to vomit before making the call).

I guess that explains his Cowboy fandom. He figures his favorite baseball team is the richest one in its sport with the most entitled, spoiled, arrogant fans. So obviously, he figures he'd pick the football team that fit the same bill.

The capper: he says he's rooting for the Cardinals because he doesn't want Pittsburgh to "steal" the crown of having the most Super Bowl rings, a distinction they used to share with the Cowboys before winning Super Bowl XLIII.

Strike three, you are the worst human being ever.

So while I had no vested interest in the outcome of this year's Big Game (c) (r), other than wanting it to be a good game for once, part of me rooted for the Steelers. Because with a Pittsburgh win, I could imagine this guy slumped in his rec room chair, crying bitter, bitter tears, then flying into a rage and tearing down all of his Cowboy memorabilia that says MOST RINGS EVER. Because you know he had like five posters that said that. And 6 commemorative plates. And several sets of Franklin Mint coins and Liberian-issued stamps with Roger Staubach and Troy Aikman on them.

So thank you, Steelers, for making that dream a reality.

I wanted to get some Super Bowl predictions from football experts, but then I realized that  football experts tend to be horribly, horribly wrong most of the time. So instead, I decided to think beyond the usual expert parameters and ask some other types of people for their takes on the big game. Our next guest is Congressman John Boehner (R-OH), House minority leader.

Who did Obama pick? The Steelers? Then I'm going with the Cards.

You guys are going with the Cards, right? I don't wanna see no Republicans picking the Steelers or so help me, I'll sic Rush Limbaugh on you! Don't think I won't!

I wanted to get some Super Bowl predictions from football experts, but then I realized that  football experts tend to be horribly, horribly wrong most of the time. So instead, I decided to think beyond the usual expert parameters and ask some other types of people for their takes on the big game. Our next guest is Nation of Ulysses/Make-Up/Weird War frontman and talk-show host Ian Svenonius.

I care not for the opiate of professional sports. It is just one limb of the vast and multi-tentacled corporate puppet casting its shadow across this nation.

"Fan-dom" is but a masturbatory, nay, necrophiliac exercise. I care only for the destruction of nostalgia, the shakedown of the great zombie that is America.

Let the walking dead engross themselves with this contest. Let the snackers gorge themselves upon winged treats and corn-based amnesia. They see nothing in our pursuits, nor should they.

I will focus on those bold and hopeless citizens, intoxicated with riddles, smashing idols, driving the money-changers from the temple. We shall array ourselves in finery of our choosing. We shall strike their names from the history books, and begin a glorious new reign in The Year Zero.

And if you can get Cards +6.5, you'd be nuts not to take Arizona.

I wanted to get some Super Bowl predictions from football experts, but then I realized that  football experts tend to be horribly, horribly wrong most of the time. So instead, I decided to think beyond the usual expert parameters and ask some other types of people for their takes on the big game. First up, professional Diet-Coke-and-snack vacuum Mike Francesa.

I've like the Steelahs chances to win the whole thing for a long time. A long time. Week 3, I think I liked them. A lot to like about this team. A lot. There's a lot to like. With this team, there's a lot to like.

Cawdnals aren't just gonna lie down, though. Dey're here to win. Dey're gonna play tough. Dey're a tough team. Dat is a tough team, the Cawdnals. Tough. That's what I'd call them. A tough team. No doubt, they're a tough team.

Butcha gotta like Roethlisberger. He's been there. He knows what it's like. He's acquired knowledge through prior experiences. Roethlisberger's someone you gotta like. You really do. A lot to like with him.

You know who he reminds me of a little bit? Bradshaw. Just a little bit. The teensiest bit. A little bit reckless. Not too much book smarts, but he knows how to win. Bradshaw was like that. Ben's got just a bit of Bradshaw in him. Just a bit.

/inhales entire 2-liter bottle of Diet Coke

But hey, you gotta like the other guy, too. This ain't Warner's first trip to the Big Dance, either. He's been through the wars, that guy. Through the wars. He is a warrior. You do not count him out. A warrior, that guy.

You name the guys, any guy you can think of. Warner's not with those guys. But he's close. Real close. He's almost one of those guys.

Alright, let's take some calls. Tom in Riverhead, you're on the air.

Hey Mike, I love yer show, I think you are the best thing to happen to radio, I worship the ground you walk on. I was just wondering if we could talk a little Yankees right now...

A little Yankees? A little Yankees? It's Super Bowl Friday and you wanna talk a little Yankees? Let me tell you somethin, you wanna talk baseball on Super Bowl Friday, you are lost. Lu-host. You do n-hot talk baseball the Friday before the Super Bowl.

This is gonna be a close game. I see it bein close. Back and forth. Someone leads, then the other team leads, then the first team leads again. It's gonna be a dogfight. A close game. A real close one. Game. Close. Football.

Originally posted 1/26/09

Scratchbomb has its own man embedded in the doody-storm that is Super Bowl Media Week. Frequent contributor Skitch Hanson will be providing us with breaking news and other updates via his Twitter page, which you can view by clicking here.

If you have any questions for Skitch or you want him to check out anything in particular, just comment on this post and the word will get his way. I'll be bumping this post frequently as a friendly reminder to the curious.

Scratchbomb hands over the reins to nationally syndicated sports columnist Skitch Hanson, as we've done many times before. You may know him as the author of the highly popular syndicated column "Up The Middle." You may also have read his best-selling book I Liked It Better When Home Run Hitters Drank Like Fish. He's also a frequent guest on ESPN's sportswriters panel show 4th and Forever. Without further ado, here's Skitch.

Within the week, we could witness something truly historic. Something that people have been waiting for, hoping for, some even praying for, for years. Centuries, even. And when that moment happens, I will stand and applaud with my fellow Americans, maybe choke back a tear, and wonder what wonders the future holds for all of us.

Of course, I'm speaking of the possibility of an all-Pennsylvania Super Bowl.

Some people like to think of how far we've come, but I wonder why it's taken us this long. Do you realize that before this weekend, two Pennsylvania teams had never even made the semifinals of any major professional sport at the same time? That is a shame our nation must live with.

Skitch Hanson will be joining us later this week to preview the NFL championship games. In the meantime, I have finally added his Scratchbomb oeuvre to the new site. If you'd like to revel in his mastery of the sporting language, click here.

You can also check out Skitch Hanson's exciting Twitter updates here.

"Most N.F.L. stadiums now post telephone numbers for fans to send text messages to summon security personnel...By using text messages to summon security guards, offended fans do not have to confront fellow spectators who may react with verbal abuse or violence; they need not look obvious when seeking ushers or guards." -- NY Times, 1/10/09

philly fan taunting me bout mets collapse even though i'm wearing a jeter jersey. help!

just saw guy in freddie mitchell jersey. srsly? wtf!

blinded by tom coughlin's red red face

sitting in sec 127, clearly see mcnabb not harrassed all day. disgraceful.

cannot see field, too many yellow flags.

huge fat ass blocking like 90% of my view. oops, sorry, it's andy reid.

puked into urinal, can't flush it down. lil help?

pickin up weird sense of superiority and entitlement from philly fans. think apocalypse is upon us. repent!

Today, we preview the weekend's playoff games with a whole buncha celebrity guests. To discuss the exciting Baltimore-Tennessee matchup, here's Ravens linebacker Ray Lewis, who agreed to talk with Scratchbomb as long as I didn't broach certain subjects.

This has to be a great season for the Ravens. No one expected you to do anything this year, and now you find yourself one win away from the AFC Championship game. How does that feel?

I always believed that we could cut through the competition in the AFC, ever since training camp, when I saw Joe Flacco firing those absolute daggers down the field.

He's turned out to be quite a draft steal.

I bet there's a lot of teams out there who feel like stabbing themselves for passing him up!

That's a curious turn of phrase, but yes, I would think so. Of course, the backbone of your team remains the defense, with veterans like you and Ed Reed. How do you stay so fresh after so many years in the league?

I don't know how you can't stay fresh! This is the greatest job in the world! Every time I go out on the field, it's like the first time I put on pads. I just wanna go out there and slash that offense to ribbons!

So how do you explain your continued success? Is it a strong work ethic or a rigorous training regimen?

Any success I have in my life, it all comes from my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Through Him all things are possible. When I let Him into my life, it was like I'd been stabbed in the soul with a 13-inch knife. But His knife filled me with love and forgiveness, rather than caused me to bleed to death from my carotid artery.

That's some curious religious imagery.

Faith is a curious thing. To the faithless man, it may make no sense. But to those who believe, it's an exhilirating, transcendent feeling. The only thing I can compare it to is, oh, I don't know, stabbing two guys to death and totally getting away with it.

C'mon, you're not even trying anymore!

It's so hard, man, it's so hard.

SB prediction: Ravens 24, Titans 12.

Today, we preview the weekend's playoff games with a whole buncha celebrity guests. To discuss the exciting San Diego-Pittsburgh matchup, here's Chargers running back LaDainian Tomlinson.

First off, are you feeling okay? Right now, there's still some question about your availability for the game in Pittsburgh. Groin injuries would be bad for any running back, and especially for your type of game. Can you be 100 percent effective this weekend?

/stares soullessly
/watches own breath fog and crystalllize
Alright, we don't have to talk about that. But it has to be frustrating to be injured during the playoffs for a second year in a row. You work hard all season, and it's like deja vu all over again. You must feel down sometimes. How do you work against that and get yourself pumped up for this game?

/stares soullessly
Okay, let's just drop the injury talk altogether. Assuming you do play, you can't be looking forward to playing against that tough Steeler defense. Do you think your offensive line can open up some holes for your to do your thing? Or do you think the new threat of Darren Sproles will allow you to go unnoticed and sneak up on Pittsburgh?

/bikes furiously
I get it, you don't wanna give away any secrets. Here's a fun question: You've been one of the best fantasy players for the past few years. I mean, there's not a lot of players out there who can run, catch and throw touchdowns! Would you pick yourself first in a fantasy league?

/stares soullessly
/adjusts shoulder pads
/stares soullessly
Last question: Are you LaDainian Tomlinson or the Ghost of Christmas Future?

/stares soullessly
/extends bony finger from droopy sleeve.
SB's prediction: Steelers 17, Chargers 9.

Today, we preview this weekend's playoff games with a whole buncha celebrity guests. To discuss the exciting Carolina-Arizona matchup, here's Cardinals backup QB, Matt Leinart.

Last weekend, the Cardinals played their first home playoff game in over 60 years. It must have been exciting to be a part of that historic event.

Yeah, whatevs. Mind if I burn one? Coach was really ridin' my ass in practice today. I'm like, "Sheesh, it's not like I'm gonna play," and he's all like, "blah blah what if something happens to Warner?" Total buzzkill.

Um, okay. After enjoying so much success at USC, is it hard to sit on the sidelines and watch Kurt Warner take charge, or are you just happy to be along for the ride?

Bro, the only thing that's hard is me, when I'm checkin' out the primo babeage in the crowd. Runnin' slant routes in my pants, if you know what I mean.

Eww...So what does Arizona need to do take care of business in Carolina this weekend?

An experienced wingman and endless Jagerbombs for the ladies. Keep 'em comin'!

I was talking about the game.

So was I bro--the game of 'tang. And when you play that game with the Lein-man, you always win. You just strap in for three minutes of pure adrenaline.

Ick. Wow, you really are a factory-wrapped douche, aren't you?

Got a Sonic 'round here? I could drink like a hundred of them cheesecake shakes.

SB prediction: Panthers 28, Cardinals 10.

NBC's Football Night in America Wild Card Weekend Something or Other is proud to welcome former president of the Lions, Matt Millen. Thanks for being such a good sport and being with us, Matt. I have to say, though, I'm surprised your head is so big. I thought for sure it'd be canteloupe sized. Or at the very least, more of a pinhead shape.
No, no, I have a normal head.
Fascinating. So you are not legally required to wear some sort of helmet? Not even for insurance purposes? Because surely your skull is as soft as a newborn baby's. I imagine it as one big fontanel.
All the seams in my skull knitted together a long time ago.
How about a dunce cap, do you usually wear that? Or a propeller beanie? Maybe one of those floppy crowns like Jughead wore?
I don't care much for hats.

As chairman of the New York Douchebag Sportswriters' Guild, I, Mike Lupica, call this meeting to order. First item of business, all praise and worship be due to Gorlaqk the Dread.
Hail Gorlaqk!
Indeed, Murray Chass. Second item of business, it looks like Eric Mangini might have a job interview with the Cleveland Browns. Do we think this is the next best move for him? The floor recognizes Phil Mushnick.
No. Not only did he lead the Jets to a disastrous end, but he didn't heed a word of our invaluable advice!
Shall we cut him any slack because that advice varied wildly among all of us from minute to minute?
Surely you jest! There is only one honorable thing for Mangini to do: take his own life.
My mustache and I agree. To go on living would do nothing but bring shame upon his ancestors. It would also make it seem as if our pointed barbs did no damage to his fragile psyche--which surely cannot be true!
I concur, Bob Raissman. So we're agreed that Eric Mangini can only truly find peace in the icy grip of the grave. The question follows: What would be the best method?

"Hey chief, this just came over the wire: Bill Cowher has no interest in Jets job."

"This is definitely going on tomorrow's back cover. Now, we just need to find an appropriate photo, something that will convey the contempt and disgust we have for a man we desperately wanted to come to NY just yesterday."

"I got one here, chief. This was snapped right after he bit into a meatball sub and got it all over his shirt."

"No, we're not going for embarrassing! We're going for nauseating! This is the first picture millions of people are gonna see this morning when they're having their breakfast, drinking their coffee, riding the subway. We want them throw up in their mouths when they see this thing!"

"I think I got one, chief. Check it out--he looks like a cross between Hitler and an orc."

"I can barely contain the vomit churning in my stomach. And you can totally see up his nose, too! This is gonna sicken millions--I love it! Take it down to the art guys and see if they can widen his nostrils in Photoshop, add some more hair up there."

"Do you want them to add some stink lines, too?"

"No, we got in trouble the last time we did that. The Dalai Lama was not happy. But I like the way you think, kid!"

All the little fledglings who left my nest, see how their wings have been clipped. First Romeo, then Eric. Charlie is surely not long for Notre Dame. It shan't be long before they come begging for refuge. And I shall refuse them. Not because I am cruel, but because they must learn for themselves the pain we must all endure in this vale of tears.

And also because I am cruel. Quite a bit, actually.

I shall, however, pass along these words of advice on what to do once the axe has dropped.

When you clean out your office, everything goes in the shredder. Playbooks. Game film. Third string tight ends. Shred it all to ribbons. Then shred the ribbons. Then burn the shredded ribbons. Then eat the ashes of the burned shredded ribbons. The next time you take a dump, you do it in a 12-foot-deep hole, which you then fill with cement. And before the cement hardens, throw some pit bulls in it. That will keep neighboring children away.

You now have a choice to make. In the wake of this incident, you can choose to be humble and take your lumps. You can choose to discover within yourself a kindness and charity you never thought possible.

These would be the wrong choices. What you must do is recognize this humiliation for what it truly is: a forge in which you shall rehsape your soul. You shall hone it to a sharp point, and you shall use that soul-blade to smite your enemies! 

This is also an excellent opportunity to update your Enemies List. I prefer to do this on a daily basis, but I realize that simple weekly checkups may suffice for most coaches.

Some head coach somewhere shall offer you a coordinator's job. He shall count on your desperation to ensure your fealty and a cheap price tag. Accept the position and the pittance it pays, but do not forfeit your allegiance. For no one deserves it but Gorlaqk.

Yes, Gorlaqk is responsible for my coaching prowess. You didn't believe it was due to intense study of game film and inspiring leadership in my players, did you? No, all my achievement flows from the fount of Gorlaqk, as deep and rich as blood from a freshly sliced throat.

All hail Gorlaqk the Dread! Tremble before his mighty talons! Lay before him your first-fruits, and he shall reward you with riches and success, and many, many hooded sweatshirts!

Today, Scratchbomb hands over the reins to nationally syndicated sports columnist Skitch Hanson, as we've done many times before. You may know him as the author of the highly popular syndicated column "Up The Middle." You may also have read his best-selling book Numbers Don't Lie Except When They Do . He's also a frequent guest on ESPN's sportswriters panel show Tiny Elf-Like Men Shrieking. Without further ado, here's Skitch.

I want to thank The Scratchbomb for having me back. I've turned into a bit of a "pariah" around the office ever since I got back from Beijing. My newspaper didn't appreciate some of the charges I ran up during the Olympics. I tried to explain to my boss that it wasn't my fault, but he hasn't trusted me since the Rental Car Incident of 2003.

(My loyal readers will remember that well, but for the rest of you, let's just say that you should never try to force a cassette tape into a car stereo CD player, no matter how badly you want to hear "Sweet Baby James". And remember: even if you're trying to be helpful to the good people at Hertz, marinara sauce is no substitute for transmission fluid.)

Here's what happened: One night in Beijing, I ate a crazy vegetable the locals call "egged-plant" and found myself in some gastric distress. A friendly cabbie brought me to the local pharmacy to get some Pepto Bismol, after I made myself understood with 15 minutes of an embarrassing set of hand gestures.

When we go to the pharmacy, the cabbie asked if he could borrow my corporate AmEx. He said he needed some medicine for his sick wife. I know it sounds crazy now, but I felt I owed the guy. Plus, I wasn't really sure this place was a pharmacy at all. I've never seen a drug store that had crap tables and roulette wheels, and guys guarding the doors with switchblades.

So imagine my surprise when I get back to the States and the only pharmaceutical purchases on the statement were 500 gross of Viagra! Plus 17 flatscreen TVs, and a bunch of charges to some Web site called LithuanianBrides.com. That sounds like a place where you could get something nice for your wife, so maybe the cabbie wasn't totally lying.

Okay Brett, I've come down here to Hattiesburg to meet with you. I hope we can come to some sort of peace agreement and end this whole unpleasantness.
Unpleasantness? What're you talkin' about? Ain't no unpleasantness out here, Mr. Murphy. I just wanna get out there on the football field and have some fun.
Of course you do. But if you showed up at Packers camp right now, it would just be a huge distraction for everyone involved. We need to decide the future of our relationship and proceed from there.

'Relationship'? That's some pretty fancy talk. Brett Favre don't know from fancy talk. He's just a simple guy who wants to toss the pigskin around and have some fun. Just like in this here advertisementation.

Today, Scratchbomb hands over the reins to nationally syndicated sports columnist Skitch Hanson, as we've done many times before. You may know him as the author of the highly popular column "Up The Middle." You may also have read his best-selling books "What I Really Meant Was... " and "The Top 100 Lists of Top 100 Sports Lists ". He's also a frequent guest on ESPN's sportswriters panel show Who's the Loudest? Without further ado, here's Skitch.

Last year's Super Bowl pitted two black coaches against one another for the first time, and in so doing, completely eliminated all traces of racism from our country. This Sunday, we will witness another clash, one even more historic: a clash of destinies.

I asked a prominent scientist who asked to remain nameless, how do you determine which team's destiny is greater? How do you measure the surface area of fate? What is the body mass index of karma and kismet?

He told me that all of these things are ephemeral concepts and therefore immeasurable. So I asked him, about the teams' density ? That sounds like "destiny". You can measure that, right?

Grant "Rocky" Rhodes is America's oldest living sportswriter. He first rose to prominence in 1921, when he struck an early blow for civil rights with his groundbreaking article on the Negro Leagues ("Colored Players Not Totally Inhuman"). His weekly sports column, "The Cat's Pajamas", appears in 7000 newspapers nationwide when not bumped for "Hints from Heloise" or "Gardening Weekly". Today, he graces Scratchbomb with his nine decades of sports wisdom to talk about Sunday's NFC Championship game.

We got this one attendant at the home, Frankie. A little stupid, but a good kid. So this morning he tells me that the Giants are playing the Packers in the NFC championship game. "That probably reminds you of old times, huh?" he says. "Back in the days of Vince Lombardi and stuff like that. I bet Lambeau Field was a pretty exciting place to be back then."

Sure, it was exciting, if your idea of exciting is freezing your nuts off in the middle of Ass-Nowheresville. Ask a sportswriter his idea of hell, and he'll say "Green Bay." That place makes Amish country look like Weimar Berlin. I knew a guy who cut off his pinky rather than go there for the '61 NFL Championship. A week of eating nothing but cheese and brats and I couldn't get unblocked if I stuck a stick of dynamite up my rear end.

It was nothing like the championship games of the real old NFL. I mean, the real Paleolithic days, when there were no helmets, cheerleaders, or common sense. Guys sacrificed their bodies and minds every Sunday, for little money and even less notoriety. But I'm sure all of them would do it all over again if they could, and if their softened brains could still grasp the concept of decision making.

You wanna talk about a championship game? In 1937, I saw the Providence Steamroller beat the Chicago Cardinals 2-0 in the parking lot of a Studebaker dealership in Davenport, Iowa. It was definitely the best damn football game I've ever seen, and I'm sure my fellow spectators, all three dozen or so, would agree.

1937 was the year the NFL tried to increase scoring by changing the ball's shape to oblong. Before that, it was angular, metallic and sharp. Of course, the old shape was totally impractical, but the league held on to it for a long time because they paid a lot of money to some fella named Calder to design it.

Of course, they hadn't started filling the balls with air yet. No siree, they still filled 'em up with good ol' fashioned concrete. The only score in the game came when the Cardinals' quarterback dropped dead from exhaustion in his own end zone. A linebacker tripped on his corpse and fell on it to record the safety. He was the championship's only casualty, which was quite rare in those days. Most every game back then would end with at least three guys in the morgue.

Providence's star player was Stan "Running Back" Wisniewski. He was the perfect man for the team's patented "run straight up the middle" offense. Stan only averaged 1.2 yards per carry, but he still led the league in yardage every year--mostly because they handed him the ball on every single play.

Back then, you were allowed to call one play in your first game of the year, and you had to stick with that same play all season. It would be another few years before Weeb Ewbank invented something called "strategy".

"Yup, you really missed out by being born so late," I told Frankie. "Those were the days where men were men, and football was football. You'll never get to see something like that in your life so long as you live."

"Yeah, but I also don't have to pee in a bag," he said.

Touché, Frankie.

Hey there, Interweb-Land, Ron Paul here. Maybe you know me from seeing my name on thousands of highway overpasses across the land. Perhaps you recognize me from my scintillating fifth-place finish in Iowa, or my breathtaking YouTube productions. You might also be familiar with my millions of loyal followers who post angry responses in all-caps to any blog post that mentions my name.

What's that? You don't recognize my name? That's because the liberal media is afraid of me and my suspiciously well-organized grassroots campaign, so they never mention me among the other Republican candidates. If you don't believe me, just listen to my spirited rebuttals on CNN, Fox News, C-SPAN, Good Morning America, The Today Show, A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila, and three dozen other programs.

Fact: I have a blimp! No other candidate in either party has any sort of dirigible. Mike Huckabee used to be zeppelin-sized, but I don't think that counts.

But I'm not here to talk about outmoded forms of air travel. I'm here to talk about the BCS, which is in desperate need of a Ron Paul makeover. Just like our great nation, college football's bowl system is a mess wrought by bureaucrats and meddlesome eggheads and their stupid computery computers.

When Ron Paul takes over, all computers in the nation will be destroyed, and I will give out free Common Sense Thinkin' Caps to every citizen. I will also not allow evolution to be taught in schools, unless all science teachers doing so follow every statement about this theory by yelling BULLSHIT.

The BCS is just like the income tax: nobody's happy with it, but nobody's got the guts to do anything about it. Except guess who? That's right, yours truly, the Paulinator. No, please, hold your applause until I'm finished.

My solution: tear down the whole damn thing. But don't start over. Just let the schools stomp around in the rubble and let them figure it out. How about, everybody play everybody, all the time! Or play the same team over and over! If Michigan wants to play Ohio State three times a week all year, let 'em! Oregon can play itself for all I care. Hell, they got enough uniforms for seven teams.

Eventually, the glorious free market will decide who's champ, without the expense and fuss of a newfangled bowl system. You see, Americans are frontier people. Things run best in this country when we let 'em run wild. Who can do their job with the nosy NCAA or federal government waggin' its finger at every gosh darn thing?

Say you're a big agribusiness company, and you wanna save some dough by feeding Styrofoam peanuts to your poultry. Or you're a toy company and you feel like using some delicious lead paint. Guess what? You can't, 'cause the dang ol' government says you can't.

But when Ron Paul is supreme executive, I mean, president, that won't be a problem, 'cause we won't have an FDA or an FTC. In fact, we won't have any office that can be spelled in all capital letters. Probably do away with that stupid Supreme Court, too. All we need in Washington is me and enough Congressman to field a softball team.

I'm sure there will be some unscrupulous companies that'll do crazy stuff, like slap Gerber's labels on sulfuric acid and sell it as baby food. So you, as a consumer, can choose to not by caustic chemicals for your infant. You vote with your dollar, see? And you'll drive the no-good-niks outta business, leaving only righteous capitalists standing.

Unless the sulfuric acid guys buy out all the other baby food companies. Or they pay off enough newspapers and networks so you never hear about their sulfuric acid. But hey, that's the free market. Don't like it? Go to Cuba, commie.

I'm sure my BCS solution will captivate the nation, just like my solutions for Washington have taken root in the political consciousness. Why, here's unsolicited testimony from a concerned citizen.

LAUPNOR: IF YOU WANT TO KEEP THE BOWL SYSTEM YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND THE CONSTITUTION ALSO THE IRS IS ILLEGAL AND EVERYONE WHO DOESN'T THINK SO SHOULD BE BURNT AND TORTURED AND TIM TEBOW IS NOT MY HEISMAN WINNER. HOOK EM HORNS!

I like the way LAUPNOR thinks!

New England's 9-0 start has many fans calling this year's Pats the greatest team ever. Of course, those proclamations have raised the elderly hackles of Don Shula, football's official parade-rainer-on-er. In his opinion, because of Camera-Gate, all of the team's achievements are tainted--unlike his beloved 1972 Dolphins, which are completely free of the stain of any wrongdoing.

And who also played fewer games against a far weaker schedule in a still-growing NFL with no salary cap, no free agency, and a sliver of the media attention it gets nowadays. However, I digress.

But Coach Shula doesn't save his disdain exclusively for the Patriots' impressive play. His extensive research shows that nearly every accomplishment wrought by the hand of man pales in comparison to Miami's legendary 17-0 season.

Hannibal Crossing the Alps: I been to the Alps. I been to a lotta places! But I been to the Alps, and I seen they got a buncha them, whatchamacallit, gondolas. These little booths that take you right up to the top of a mountain. I bet they got over the Alps with them things. Probably brought the elephants along just to show off.

Transcontinental Railroad: Lay down ties, lay down iron on top--what's so hard about that? They had to go through mountains? Big deal. Get some dynamite, blast a hole, get some Chinamen to dig out the rocks, boom, you're done. They dragged it out for years so everybody would feel sorry for them. And I happen to know that the golden spike was actually made out of a spray painted hunk of cookie dough.  

The Moon Landing: Everybody knows we didn't really land on the moon, but it ain't for the reasons you think. Nope, the real reason the US faked the moon landing was so's they could artificially drive up sales of Tang and appease the powerful powdered drink lobby in Washington. You don't wanna get on those guys' wrong side. Believe me, they run that town. Joe Gibbs told me some stories that'd make your head spin, fella.

The Great Wall of China: Did you know it's not a whole wall? I seen pictures--there's huge chunks of the thing missing. To me, a wall's one big piece. Otherwise, it's just a big pile of rocks, some space, and some more rocks. How do you keep the damn gophers and teenagers off your lawn with a wall like that? Not impressed, buddy.

Theory of Relativity: Okay, Einstein did determine that the space-time continuum is curved because of the effect of gravity. And yeah, he showed that events are perceived differently by different observers depending on the motion of said of observers through space and time. And yeah, he also showed us that there's no such thing as an absolute rest or absolute frame of reference, and matter and energy are equivalent, and the speed of light is a universal constant. But Einstein's dismissive attitude toward quantum mechanics late in life betrayed an almost childish clinging to the theories that had made him famous, which made him appear more concerned with protecting his legacy than further advancing scientific thinking. Also, he had funny hair.

Today, Scratchbomb hands over the reins to nationally syndicated sports columnist Skitch Hanson. You may know him as the author of the highly popular column "Up The Middle," recipient of the 2006 Mitch Albom Award for Most Self-Righteous Moralizing in a Single Sports Column. You may have read his best-selling books "Numbers Prove Nothing Except When They Do" and "No One Will Ever Be Better than Willie Mays Because I Said So". He's also a frequent guest on ESPN's sportswriters panel show Four Paunchy White Guys . Without further ado, here's Skitch.

Many Yankees fans are calling for Joe Torre's head, now that he's failed to deliver yet another World Series title. But if you cut off Torre's head, then the Yankees will literally lose their head as well.

No, make that figuratively. Figuratively lose their head. In any case, it would be bad.

But since there's no way that Cleveland was simply a better team than the Yankees, someone must be to blame. If you want to know who's really responsible for the Yankees' postseason failure, there's only one man you need to look to. And I know this won't be a very popular opinion, but I have to say it anyway.

That's right: Alex Rodriguez.

CHRIS BERMAN: Welcome to ESPN's Spook-tacular NFL Playoffs Preview! Brought to you by Budweiser, Coors Light, Heineken, Levitra, and Budweiser! I'm your host, The Boomer, Chris "Oz Never Did Give Nothing To The" Berman. Because the NFL playoffs are so huge, ESPN is preempting its round-the-clock poker coverage to give football its due. First off, the NFC. How do you see the senior conference shaping up, Ron Jaworski "Huh! Good God, Y'all-ski! What Is It Good For-ski"?

RON JAWORSKI: It's been a disappointing, mediocre year in the NFC..

CHRIS BERMAN: Absolutely nothin'! Say it again-ski!

RON JAWORSKI: Last year's conference champs, the Seahawks, just barely staved off the 49ers to take the NFC West. And I'm pretty sure the 49ers' offensive line is actually made of popsicle sticks. No one in the NFCreally scares you. There are compelling reasons why each of the conference playoff teams couldn't go all the way.

MIKE DITKA: Except for the Bears.

RON JAWORSKI: Actually, the Bears have many glaring question marks, such as Rex Grossman's horrid passer rating, which can make babies cry from across a room.

CHRIS BERMAN: Boomer here, barking atcha for another slam-dangle, froo-farah, mama-say-mama-sha-mama-kusah edition of NFL Countdown LIVE! Or whatever the hell we're calling it now. There's a full slate of roast-'em tenderize-'em down-ya-go action this Sunday, but rather than focusing on all the exciting matchups, we figure our audience would rather watch ex-players in suits scream at each other. The big battle this week is happening in foxy Foxboro, Taxachusetts, where the Ponies gallop in to take on the Patriot Act. Of course, my question has no real answer, and one could make a case for either side depending on personal preferences. So let's debate it as if it's a friggin' North Korean nuclear summit. Who is the better QB, Peyton "Place" Manning or Tom "Three Times A" Brady?

MICHAEL IRVIN: I wanna tell ya Chris, [unintelligible] Colts [garbled] not T.O.'s fault [possibly Sanskrit] "White House" [still garbled] so that wasn't my pipe, know what I'm sayin'?

RON JAWORSKI: You're right, Boomer, there really is no answer here. Manning and Brady are both excellent quarterbacks. Manning is a more gifted athlete, of course, but Brady has the rings, so...

MIKE DITKA: Ron, allow me to interrupt you and completely dismiss you as a human being. The NFL is about winning, unlike all other sports leagues. Brady has won three Super Bowls, while Manning's barely won any playoff games at all. Until Peyton can capture as many championships as Brady, he's a worthless piece of shit who should thank whatever horse-headed pagan god he believes in that I haven't killed him yet.

BERMAN: So Coach "I Know What You" Ditka "Last Summer", you're saying that Tom "A Very" Brady "Christmas" is vastly superior to Peyton Manning "The Torpedoes"?

JAWORSKI: By your logic, Jon Kitna is a much better quarterback than Peyton Manning simply because he rode the Ravens' defense to a Super Bowl ring.

DITKA: The ring proves it. In this league, jewelry trumps natural ability. Brady's Pats could lose 85-0 to Manning and Colts, and Brady would still be the better QB in every way.

JAWORSKI: Just so I'm clear, you just said,using your brain and your mouth, that Brady could lose to Manning badly, like he did last year, but still be better than him. [shakes his head violently]

IRVIN: I wanna tell you, you wanna talk about the championship bling, Brady's got it. [grumbling, throat clearing] interception [ancient incantation that almost awakens a demon] mink coat [an car engine backfiring] It's snowin' backstage, you feel me?

BERMAN: For the record, I think that Peyton "A" Manning "For All Seasons" is better than Tom Brady "Brook Farms Turkey", because saying so allowed me to use two more wacky nicknames.

JAWORSKI: Of course you can make the argument that Tom Brady is one of the best "field general" quarterbacks of our era. But the debate is less clear cut when you consider...

DITKA: No no no no, I will not waffle on this issue. You are dumb and wrong and you used to play for the Eagles and you're wrong. Peyton Manning will never be better than a piece of dog shit stuck to the bottom of my shoe--unless and until he wins the next seven Super Bowls on one last-second Hail Mary pass that also somehow rescues a little girl from a burning building.

IRVIN: They gonna be some Patriot Games up in Foxboro, you feel me? [irrecoverable error, some data may be lost] Cleveland steamer [static between radio stations] y'all remember that group EPMD?

JAWORSKI: Jesus fucking Christ, are all of you people retarded?

TOM JACKSON : I'm not, Jaws. I just wanted to come on the air and say that Tiki Barber is dead to me. You hear that, Unibrow?

BERMAN: Okay, when we come back, another useless, unresolveable debate: Is this the week that we finally make a passer out of Michael Vick "Of It All"?

IRVIN: Ron Mexico!

DITKA: The point of being a quarterback isn't to pass--it's to win ballgames for his team, and Michael Vick always does that, except when he doesn't. Even when the Falcons lose, he helps his team win.

JAWORSKI: [swallows arsenic tabet]

I finished up my year of NFL picks at MSN Sports Filter on a decidedly sour note. Two bad weeks in a row; my week 8 tallies were 7-7 win/loss, 6-8 points. That showing brought my tally on the season to:

Win/Loss: 77-36
Points: 57-56

Obviously, I need some high-powered help. So this week, Scratchbomb.com is pleased to welcome a guest handicapper for our NFL picks. You may remember him from such unbridled successes as "the Valerie Plame scandal", "the Mark Foley cover up" and "you forgot Poland". Here's Republican strategist/pork vacuum Karl "Turdblossom" Rove.

Atlanta at Detroit: A good solid red state versus a city full of, um, traditional Democrat voters. Try and guess who I'm picking! I don't know if Michael Vick will continue his chuck-tastic ways, but it won't matter much against the toothless Lions. I know Vick's a lefty, but I forgive him. Atlanta by 8.