There's nothing quite like back-to-back wins to put a shine into the work in the film room. The glow of the past two wins hasn't faded at all, but the upcoming contest against the Indianapolis Colts is starting to loom large. Before we get into our matchups and needs against the next foe, let's take some time to look back over what we've accomplished. Special teams, the nose tackle position and even raiderology are on today's menu. Let the feasting begin!
"Stats washed over The Dude...darker than a black steer's tookus on a moonlight prairie night..." Sam Elliott
In almost every Hollywood movie there is a moment that comes, about three-fourths through the movie, in which the hero or heroin appears defeated. This moment is called the "dark moment," and if you're paying attention, it appears in almost all stories. The great mythologist, Joseph Campbell, wrote a book called The Hero With a Thousand Faces, in which he described the hero's journey, and briefly, the dark moment:
Beyond the threshold, then, the hero journeys through a world of unfamiliar yet strangely intimate forces, some of which severely test him...(page 246)
For modern day storytellers, this is the moment in which everything appears bleak and all is lost. In the greatest movie ever made, The Big Lebowski (Citizen Kane, stay down), the dark moment occurs when The Dude is drugged by Jackie Treehorn (don't ask me for the rest of the plot, or you'll be here for hours).
Happy Tuesday, friends, and welcome to another edition of ST&NO. After being sick last week, and running an abbreviated version on Wednesday, I am back in full effect this week. I feel kind of like Stringer Bell in season 2 of The Wire, when Avon Barksdale was locked up, and their supplier cut them off. Stringer said he needed to put out a smoker to hold the towers, and I feel like a smoker is similarly needed this week with ST&NO. After all, I can't really do what Stringer actually did, when he couldn't get his raw dope, and change the name. Nobody is going to read a column called Death Grip, you know? (Really, I don't know what kind of drug addict would buy dope called Death Grip, but that's neither here nor there.) Anyway, here comes the high test stuff, with the same name as always. So fill up your coffee, get comfortable, and let's get right to it. Ready.... BEGIN!!!
This week brought some colder, wetter autumnal weather to southern California. It put me in the perfect mood to watch a lot of film and to take in all of the facets of a massive, overwhelming Broncos beatdown of the Kansas City Chiefs, right on their own turf. Despite all the press about the past, this is a new team and they took the opportunity to prove that to KC and anyone else who was willing to watch. It was close right up to the end of the first quarter, and quickly turned into a rout during quarter 3. I enjoyed every minute of it. While I wanted to have the Broncos put a headlock on the Chiefs I didn't expect Ryan Clady (photo) to take it quite so literally.
It's good to be the king--of sacks.
That's because sacks are critical in today's NFL. Sacks have become such an important part of football, that today they are cause for orgasmic euphoria on the part of players and fans. It seems that this single act of taking the opposing quarterback down two-to-ten yards behind the line of scrimmage is almost on par with touchdowns themselves. Gyrating, break-dancing, and in the case of Shawn Merriman, outright seizures disguised as celebrations are in order after just a single sack.
Deacon Jones might have fathered the sack. Lawrence Taylor might have raised it through adolescence. And Michael Strahan might have helped it pay for college. But today, every roster is filled with a least one player trying to make a real man out of the sack.
That's because some sacks are hellaciously important. Not because Ryan Clady makes a lot of money defending against them. Not because Michael Lewis says so. But because a sack has real value.
So much value, in fact, that the Denver Broncos should resign Elvis Dumervil--before the king leaves the building.
Following the burden of four losses, and continuing through the lighter job of a Thanksgiving turkey-down being visited on the NY Giants, I've been busy in the film room. The Broncos had gone through a hard stretch of the season and I wanted to know why: What changed? What made them goats after weeks of success? The game film was the only place to find out.
Happy Wednesday, and welcome to a day-late, dollar-short version of ST&NO. First of all, big up TJ for working hard to bring in his outstanding The Dude Abides... Stats That Don't Lie in a day early. I am a bit healthier on Tuesday as I write this, and I am going to see what I can get cranked out in one day, with moderate sneezing, and a heavy Day 1 of close workload in that pesky day job. I didn't take notes, and I didn't remember to record the Broncos game, so I am without a lot of detail this week, and will need to speak more generally than usual. No time to waste, so let's not waste any time. Ready..... BEGIN!!!
The Stats don't mean what they say on Thanksgiving, Mom. You know that. That's what the day's supposed to be all about, right? Torture.--Holly Hunter
Thanksgiving and football. It didn't get much better in Week 12. Like you and your family, some teams greedily feasted on the mashed potatoes (Dallas on Oakland), some teams kicked up their feet and loosened their belts (Green Bay feeling fat and bloated as they coasted over Detroit), and some teams simply went straight for the pumpkin pie (New Orleans tasting a sweet victory over New England).
Your Denver Broncos stuffed the New York Giants like turkeys.
Divisional opponents inspire hate. And mockery. So let round one of the Chiefs' Limericks begin!.
Here are five that I created. Please feel free to make up your own. And Chiefs' fans, please participate if you have the inclination (or you're not already mocking your top-5-draft-pick).
At the end of the season, I'll do a post with the top 10 limericks from all the division opponents to vote on, so please rec the limericks that you like the most.
These five should help you get the hang of it (if you have an extra syllable or two here or there, who cares):
"A man's own observation, what he finds good of and what he finds hurt of, is the best physic to preserve health." - Sir Francis Bacon
It isn't news that football is a rough, hard-hitting sport. Our modern combination of the stratagems of chess and the violence of unarmed territorial warfare has a bare-knuckle history, in which simply being willing to use the forward pass was once considered a sign of weakness; in which playing hurt was and is a mark of excellence rather than a failing and which sometimes pits the health of the players against the financial and strategic considerations of the teams and the league itself. Football is still constantly finding and reinventing itself, just as it has over the past 100 years. One thing that has changed over those scores of years is the perspective of players and fans alike: We are discovering that while we will cheer on anything that brings victory a step closer, fans and the league increasingly also want the best for the health of the players. It's leading to a sea-change in the way that we observe and handle the issues of injury in the NFL.