We never pass up an opportunity to take shots at the Raiders and their fans. So it gave us great pleasure today to read this GQ piece from Lauren Bans, in which she spends some time in Oakland with two Raiders fans known as Metal Cindy and Dre of the Dead:
In all of Raider nation, there are about fifty or so "superfans," and Metal Cindy and Dre of the Dead are two of them. Along with other "characters"—including Gorilla Rilla, a dude who shows up every game day in a full ape suit, plus a jersey and sunglasses over the ape suit, and who, according to Metal Cindy, got married in that getup—Cindy and Dre never miss a Sunday. They're like walking and waving Disney World mascots for the drunk-at-10-A.M. set
Dan Fouts finally said something I agree with.
The Broncos' ass kicking has become a broken record to the AFC.
Let the music play--three more times. Whoever comes to Denver won't be getting away.
Not this time; not with this defense; not as the number-one seed.
Did we mention we've got Peyton Manning, too?
A lot of things happen when you get on a winning streak. One of those things is that you forget your responsibilities--namely, a game-day limerick.
So here goes (in pure-form anapests):
It's the last of the games of the year
for the AFC West to revere
the appeal of the pass
and a hoof up their ass:
it is Manning and Denver to fear.
Thanks to my boy Alaskan for reminding me of my responsibilities. Feel free to give it your own shot (anapestic or not) below. Just remember, crude and lewd is quite shrewd, dude.
Yesterday and today, there has been a collective gasp across Broncos Country that the Chiefs--yes, the lowly and wretched Kansas City Chiefs, whom Denver will host on Sunday to close out the regular season--placed five players on the AFC Pro Bowl team.
The thinking seems to be that a 2-13 team can't possibly deserve such honors. After all, if their players were any good, they'd have a better record. While there's certainly some truth in that line of thinking, and the Pro Bowl has largely become a game for divas, as they say in Spain, "no sé qué," which, roughly translated, means "Kansas City has good barbeque." In other words, it's not always so crazy when you scarf meat from bone and get into the details.
Before we take a look at whom the Chiefs actually put into the Pro Bowl, though, we should recognize that a lot of things influence a team's record. Just because the Chiefs are 2-13 and the Broncos 12-3, it's not necessarily always a reflection of better play at specific positions.
Santa Claus is real. I don't care what your parents told you.
How do I know?
Because I heard him on the roof, dropping gifts down your orange-and-blue chimney.
The first gift? A ten-game winning streak.
The second? A quarterback more accurate than Santa's naughty/nice list.
Well, that came from Santa's little helpers, the Minnesota Vikings. Because of their win, the Broncos just might get the #1 seed.
Rockin' around the Christmas tree, at the Christmas party slop.
I love the myth of the free market and the bootstrapping entrepreneur. Without it, our business schools wouldn't continue to surge with wide-eyed future (and underemployed) alumni donors. I also love it because the narrative is so simple. It's black and white, really--I did everything, all by myself. Despite the lessons from behavioral economics and history, the narrative's insistence on oversimplifying complex issues into laissez-faire dogma provides for some great comedic context.
Enter the humor of Bills owner Ralph Wilson. In 2011, Wilson gave an interview in which he gave this tidy little homespun answer to a question about how much he profits from his ownership of the Buffalo Bills:
I came into this game 50 years ago because I enjoyed the game of pro football. Not to make money. In those days, everybody was hoping to break even. We lost money for a number of years. I am really not into the game to make money, but I would like to break even or make a little.
Here they come at a furious pace--a wave of Tebow-related articles that all basically say the same thing:
Rex Ryan finally decided to bench Mark Sanchez, but he won't let Tim Tebow start.
Mike Freeman is hearing that the Ultimate Teammate™ feels like he was lied to. Jeff Darlington thinks Tebow will ask out of New York (very un-team) and compares the situation to when Tebow was in high school and decided to switch schools so someone would let him play quarterback instead of linebacker.
Well, well, well. Look what we have here.
It's 10pm here in Denver. The Broncos haven't played a down in almost eight hours, yet they find themselves--if the playoffs were to start today--with a first-round bye.
Win the next two games, Broncos fans, and it's a reality.
Awesomeness happens. And it's not even Christmas yet.
Somewhere, right now, Peyton Manning is smiling. He once said he was going to make his decision to come to Denver the right one.
Thanks to Jim "Jack Frost" Harbaugh going balls out against Bill "Old Man Winter" Belichick, Manning's decision is looking better and better.
I believe it was scholar Michael Gerard Tyson who once said: "Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the face."
The Ravens had a plan. That plan probably included a healthy dose of Ray Rice.
Then they found themselves bloodied to the tune of 17-0. The plan shifted to the arm of Joe Flacco. And we all know that's no plan at all.
Somehow the Ravens confused this year's Broncos with Denver teams of the past. It began with a push of Eric Decker by Cary Williams and didn't stop until Decker beat Williams like he was Gerry Cooney. The rest of the Ravens were pushed all over the yard and buried.
The Ravens are no longer the physical bullies they believe they are. After most of the plays in the first half, the Ravens were pushing and shoving like it was the year 2000--you know, when Ray Lewis might really murder you.
Raise your hand if you thought the Broncos were in danger with a halftime lead of only six points.
That's exactly two hands, including John Madden's.
I guess pirates just aren't that frightening anymore--if they ever were in Oakland.
Either that, or this Broncos team is that good. Even when they play sloppy and sluggish in the red zone, they adjust. A one-score game quickly turnes into a three-score game.
By the fourth quarter, the Broncos' opponents might as well put on their pirate shirts.
As least then, the attire would keep it interesting.