Okay, this is starting to get ridiculous. My beloved Chicago Bears just beat the brakes off the Tennessee Titans, 51-20, as in FIFTY points …and no, the game was NOT even that close. I am not making the next part up, the score was already 28-2 after the first quarter.
They’d scored on a blocked punt, an interception return, a pass, and a run before the Titans had even broken a sweat. Their defense has allowed exactly three more touchdowns than it has scored…and that statistic shouldn’t even exist. I’mma paraphrase the immortal madman Mike Tyson his own self and…
…you know what? Fugg that. I’mma let Mike speak for hisself.
That’s what the Chicago Bears defense looks like nowadays.
Oh, by the way, set your DVR for next Sunday night’s football game, featuring my beloved Bears (now 6-0 since the advent of Smokin’ Jay Cutler) at 7-1 versus the Houston Texans, also 7-1 and also looking a little super themselves. Could this be a preview of the next Roman Numerals Game? Hmmmm…
Meanwhile, what in the wide, wide world of sports is going on with the Indianapolis Colts? Andrew Luck schmoove blew up this week, throwing for 433 yards and two touchdowns to lead the Colts to their third straight victory. This just in: Luck is arookie. Maybe it’s because I’m a Bears fan, but I’m used to seeing rookie quarterbacks collect 433 passing yards in like a month.
Speaking of rookies and yards, Doug Martin Doug Martin Doug Martin DOUG BY GOD MARTIN. Lawd ha’mussy but Ms. Martin’s baby boy put a clown suit on them Oakland Raiders. The Muscle Hamster (more on this later) ran for 251 yards and four (!!) touchdowns and while I was watching him score on runs of 45 yards, 67 yards, and 70 yards, all I could hear was Muddy Waters…cuz that there is a Mannish Boy.
But, now, come on y’all, we gotsta do better for a nickname for this po’ chile. Muscle Hamster? Fo’ realz? Maybe I’m just old school, but I read about and saw RBs with some cool nicknames – Bronco Nagurski, O.J. “The Juice” Simpson (yeah, yeah, this was waaay before we started calling him O.J. “The Guilty-Az-All-Fugg-Murderer” Simpson), “Touchdown” Tony Dorsett, Christian “the Nigerian Nightmare” Okoye, Jerome “The Bus” Bettis, and Barry “What-Tha-Fugg-Was-THAT?” Sanders (okay, I made that last one up). I nominate “Cannonball.” “Cannonball” is good and manly and describes the way he shot through Oakland’s defense. Besides, ain’t been a good “Cannonball” since that Adderly dude or that Burt Reynolds movie…
That’d be your Kansas City Chefs.
How’d the Jags find themselves actually looking down at another football team?
Simple: the Jags are actually 1-1 in their division. The Chefs are 0-3 in the worst division in football, and are as hostile to visitors as carpet is hostile to bare feet. Alleged head coach Romeo Crennel “stripped himself” of defensive responsibility, which is kinda cute since we weren’t aware that the Chefs actually played defense. (I mean, they field eleven guys as per the rules, but they pretty much just stand around and point fingers at each other while ball-carriers run through them like Von Trapp children running through Swiss fields with Julie Andrews…)
Now comes word that Jerry Jones, the owner of the Dallas Cowboys, intends to remain as their general manager for as long as he owns the team. In other words, he has just reduced the number of annual Super Bowl contenders by one team, because the record is plain: Jones hasn’t won anything since Jimmy Johnson’s players retired. The worst secret in football (mentioned in last week’s comments, I believe) is that Jones would be the head coach as well if he could get away with it. (And, in keeping with my musical theme for the day, exactly how do I feel about that? Hmmmmm…)
Honestly, I’d pay good money to see that. One would be hard pressed indeed to find better comedy anywhere in the nation than ol’ Jerry His Own Self wearing the big boy headphones and trying to send in the old 7-up play.
…and poor, long-suffering Cowboys fans get to look forward to the next few seasons of increasingly erratic behavior as Father Time begins to kick the crap out of an owner that won’t let go.
Here’s a sneak preview: it sez so right here that Jones will earn the title “Al Davis 2 – Electric Boogaloo.”
Anyone else think that the Oklahoma City Thunder are having (non)buyer’s remorse right around now? So they tried to run the okey-doke on James Harden, and when he didn’t flinch, they traded him to Houston. You can almost see them saying, “Heh, Houston. That’ll learn him to mess with us.”
But then a funny thing happened on Harden’s way to Houston (and certain Karmic retribution for being “greedy”). The Rockets opened up the pocketbook and found $80 million in nickels and Now-or-Laters stuck at the bottom…which is $25 millionmore (and in a state with no income tax) than Oklahoma was offering. Then Harden went out, slapped Jeremy Lin on the butt, and snapped.
When you score 37 and 45 in consecutive games, you are, dare I say, en fuego.
Meanwhile, the Thunder already have more losses than wins at this early juncture and Kevin Durant has already gotten punk’d by Jeff Teague (egad) and I keep hearing “How Ya Like Me Now” every time Harden takes a feed from Lin and raises up on some fool that Just. Don’t. Know.
By the way, good on the Brooklyn Nets for their first victory. New Yorkers must be relieved in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy that professional basketball has returned to the Apple…yeah, I said it…
Finally, WTF?! Florida?
Apparently, a group of ratchet-azz bastids in Miami were coaching a kids football league…and betting on the games.
Not beer bets.
Not mow-my-lawn bets.
You know, the kind of bets that might make a “coach” put his gambling interests ahead of the health of a kid who just got his bell rung on a crackback. Think about it — If ol’ stank-azz BoTrayveon Jenkins is coaching and he’s got fitty stacks riding on his team winning and his stud RB is laying on the ground with Warner Brothers birds circling his head, do you think BoTrayveon is more worried about l’il man’s concussion or more worried about paying off Big Worm?
It sez so right here that someone’s ten-year-old-baby got his first snort of amyl nitrate this past year…
Aaaaaand I’m OUT like Victor Cruz…dayum