Once you move past the obvious glee fans of so many other teams are exhibiting and the obvious dejection of New England Patriots fans regarding the loss of Tom Brady for the remainder of the season, the natural question becomes, "How will the Pats be affected?"

Can they still win the AFC East? Are they even a playoff team? Did Bill Belichick and the rest of the New England brain trust drop the ball, as suggested by more than one national columnist, by not having a more experienced backup than Matt Cassel on the sidelines, ready to take the wheel of what last season was the league's most prolific offense?

To those who are ready to jump off a bridge as well as to those who are hosting victory parties and buying T-shirts commemorating a player's injury (Shame on you), I say this: Slow down and take a breath!

Are the Patriots going to go 16-0? Of course not; they weren't going to do that even with a healthy Tom Brady. Some people - okay, at least one - feel that the mental and physical toll of trying to maintain their perfect record contributed greatly to the stunning upset in the Super Bowl last February anyway. Think about it - The Giants were trying to win a Super Bowl while the Pats were trying to make history.

As far as everything else goes, though, it's a little premature to write off New England - do it at your own risk. They still have Moss and Welker and Gaffney and Maroney and a dominating defensive line. The question mark becomes the ability of the offensive line, exposed in the Super Bowl by the Giants relentless blitzing from anywhere and everywhere, to protect the inexperienced Cassel.

If they can manage that, New England will be fine. Maybe not First Round Bye fine, but they will certainly have enough to make the playoffs and probably to win the division. If the O-line can't stop all the defenders who will most certainly be storming the Cassell, though, it becomes another story entirely.

Just getting to the playoffs - making the tournament, as Bill Parcells used to say - now becomes the focus for the Pats, or at least it should. Never mind perfect records or regular-season winning streaks or consecutive starts streaks for your quarterback; work on winning the division and see what happens once you get to the tournament.

In any event, it makes for fascinating viewing, starting this Sunday in the Meadowlands, where the Patriots take on the revitalized Jets in an early-season showdown. Pass me my chips and dip; this could be good.

__________

If you love fiction and have a few minutes to spare, check out my website, www.allanleverone.com

In the wake of the New England Patriots stunning upset loss in Super Bowl XLII Sunday night, fans of the team have turned their attention not just to head coach Bill Belichick's future, but also to the issue of potential impending retirements.

Will elder statesman Junior Seau retire? He's 39 and missed getting a championship ring in what may well have been his best shot. What about fellow linebacker Tedy Bruschi? He's 35 and a stroke survivor; will he be back? Then there's 37 year old safety Rodney Harrison, what about him?

One name that's been lost in the shuffle, a guy who appeared in just one game this year and seems destined to quietly fade away, is wideout and sometime defensive back Troy Brown. Injuries have taken their toll on the eighth-round pick out of Marshall in the 1993 draft, and with New England's depth at the wide receiver position, Brown's return in 2008 for a sixteenth season seems unlikely.

Although Troy Brown was selected to just one Pro Bowl in his career, numbers don't tell the whole story of the man who many fans believe represents everything good about sports.

Troy Brown was Wes Welker before there was a Wes Welker. He was the guy who first Drew Bledsoe and then Tom Brady inevitably went to underneath the coverage, in the middle of the field, to pick up the tough yards, often on third down and often paying the price of a huge hit from a linebacker or safety.

He was quick and tough and held on to the ball. In his Pro Bowl year, 2001, Brown caught 101 passes for 1199 yards in addition to returning punts and carrying the ball eleven times on reverses, losing a fumble just once all year.

The three year stretch between 2000 and 2002 was Troy Brown's most productive, as he caught a total of 281 passes over that period, for 3033 yards and twelve touchdowns. Oh yeah, and he also returned 92 kicks over that span, for 1092 yards and three touchdowns.

But again, numbers were not what Troy Brown was all about. In this day and age of the wide receiver as the diva, Ocho-Cincoing their way to attention-getting touchdown celebrations and Britney-esque behavior if the ball doesn't come their way often enough, Troy Brown was a quiet warrior. There were no catchy nicknames, no Sportscenter highlight film Sharpie moments, no court appearances. Troy Brown was a football player.

Later in his career, as the Patriots contended for championships every year despite being thin in the defensive backfield, guess who reinvented himself as a cornerback? That's right, the football player, Troy Brown. While never being mistaken for a Pro Bowl DB, Brown did what was asked of him without a word of complaint, even finishing 2004 with three interceptions.

There were no training camp holdouts, no messy and public contract squabbles. Troy Brown was all about the game, a throwback to a simpler time, the player Walter Payton might have been if Payton had been a wideout instead of a running back. Troy Brown is so well-respected that Randy Moss named him as the team's number one receiver, despite barely playing in 2007.

If this is the end for Number Eighty and you were fortunate enough to see him play, count your blessings. The game, and the Patriots, won't be the same when he's gone.

A funny thing happened on the way to the coronation - Somebody forgot to tell the New York Giants they were supposed to play victim to the conquering New England Patriots in Super Bowl XLII.

The difference in the game came in an area you may not have expected. The amazing array of talent New England possesses at the wide receiver position? Nah. The vaunted Giants Thunder and Lightning running game? Nope. Tom Brady's deadly passing accuracy? Forget it. Eli Manning's penchant through most of the season for turning the ball over? Wrong again.

While each of those factors came into play at different times in the game, the real difference-maker in Super Bowl XLII was the study in contrasts provided by the two teams' offensive line play.

New England's O-line, three members of whom will be flying to Hawaii for the Pro Bowl next weekend, apparently thought the game was going to be played in Glendale, California, or one of the six other Glendale's that's not Arizona, because they were missing in action all night. The Giants blitzers were relentless, coming from everywhere and stalking Brady like paparazzi. They were rarely picked up, or even slowed down, by the line.

On the other side of the ball, Eli Manning looked like a guy out for a leisurely sunset stroll most of the time he dropped back to pass. Pressure on Manning was virtually nonexistent, and the Patriots were unable to force the Giants quarterback into making mistakes, with the exception of one interception on a tipped ball that should have been caught.

The result of the Patriots inability to stop New York's pass rush was the neutralization of New England's speed advantage at wide receiver. Brady was forced to dump the ball off underneath, usually to Wes Welker (who would have been the game's MVP were it not for New York's clutch drive in the waning seconds of the game), before consistently getting buried time after time beneath a blitzing Giant.

Brady's much-ballyhooed ankle injury didn't appear to be a factor, although it was hard to tell since most of his evening was spent flippng the ball away before disappearing underneath a wave of Giants jerseys. His specialty is sliding around in the pocket to buy an extra second or so for his receiving corps to break coverage, but there was very little of that last night - New York's defense took aim at Number Twelve and teed off.

The Giants looked like a team out to prove something last night. They appeared hungrier and more prepared, playing with a passion and intensity that seemed to be lacking on the Patriots side of the ball. They shook off the distractions of Super Bowl week, focused on the task at hand, and literally played a full sixty minutes, taking the lead for the final time on a drive John Elway would have been proud of, scoring with barely more than half a minute left.

The defense punctuated the win with one last sack of Brady in the waning seconds of the game, as he dropped back, desperately trying to get into field goal range to send the game into overtime. No miracles here, unless you count Brady's ability to walk off the field under his own power after the game.

So congratulations to the World Champion New York Giants. I'm proud to say I picked you guys to go all the way before the playoffs started!

What? I picked them to lose in the Wild Card round? And in every subsequent round? That can't be right; any fool could see they were the team to beat. Oh, well, I was just kidding when I picked you guys to lose. I saw this coming all the way. Trust me.

I don't understand Media Day. You know, the Tuesday before the Super Bowl, when the two teams who will be competing on Sunday traditionally get trotted in front of thousands of journalists to be asked silly questions by presumably otherwise sane people?

What's the point of that, exactly? Isn't every day Media Day in modern America? In this world of 24-hour news channels, weather channels, sports channels, and a world-wide web where ordinary schmucks like me can access all the news, sports, and pictures of Giselle Bundchen whenever we damn well please, isn't "Media Day" now just a pointless anachronism, kind of like Dan Rather before he was forced out at CBS?

Okay, maybe the idea is to let national journalists who haven't had an opportunity before now to interview Chris Hanson or Matt Cassel get in all their probing questions before all the players get down to the real reason they're in town - preparing to beat the #### out of each other in five days for the right to be called World Champions.

I guess I could understand that, if in fact it were the case. But it's not, unless of course the journalists actually do want to hear the innermost thoughts of the Patriots' seldom-used punter or backup quarterback. Because the guys everyone wants to hear from, the Tom Bradys and the Michael Strahans and the Randy Mosses and the Plaxico Burresses are mobbed on media day, engulfed by rabid newshounds like Paris Hilton by college boys at a frat party.

The chances of any one journalist getting an actual interview with any of the impact players for either team on Media Day are zero; less than zero, actually, because that's not how the whole circus is structured. If you're lucky, and you're repping ESPN, and you're a babe like Rachel Nichols, you might get to ask a question and then even a followup; but otherwise, if you're Joe Sixpack writing for the Des Moines Register, fuhgeddaboudit. You might as well skip Media Day entirely and make sure you're first in line for the hot wings at the Airport Hilton Happy Hour.

Instead of well-thought out questions with, oh, say, maybe a football impact, you get Bill Belichick being asked what he watches on television (Turns out he doesn't watch much TV - big surprise, right?), Matt Light being asked what he thought of Osi Umenyiora's charge he's a dirty player (He's pretty sure Osi was kidding), Randy Moss being asked who's the fastest receiver on the Patriots (Randy Moss), and Tom Brady being asked if Giselle has morning breath (You'll never know).

Just kidding on that last one, although I only saw excerpts from the Media Day Circus, so technically it is possible someone actually did ask that. What's funny is that this year's two Super Bowl teams are coached by two men who would rather chew nails than speak with the media under normal circumstances; in fact, most of the time when they're talking with a journalist, they look as though they may well be swallowing something sharp and unpleasant.

But the rules are the rules, and the NFL says they have to avail themselves to the media for Media Day, so there they were, making nice and acting like two guys without a care in the world, rather than two obesessive lunatics counting the seconds before they could get back to their laboratories and resume cooking up their evil potions.

It's all part of the charm of the pre-Super Bowl hype, I suppose. The Big Event as con####uous consumption. If you look at the Super Bowl as largely another piece of entertainment, a grandiose lead-in to the season premiere of 24, then I guess Media Day makes sense - it certainly has a Hollywood veneer to it.

But if you're a sports fan, and you're anxiously awaiting the Championship Game, as it used to be called before Pete Rozelle had his stroke of pure marketing genius, Media Day is nothing more than a bump in the road, just a little more of the incessant talk and analysis we have to suffer through before they actually toss the coin and choose sides.

Contraray to what many people seem to believe, it is possible for the New York Giants to defeat the New England Patriots in Super Bowl XLII February 3 in Glendale, Arizona. The two teams met barely more than a month ago in the regular season finale and New England was forced to come back in the second half to post a three-point win.

Of course, come back they did, with a 22-0 run over a 23 minute stretch of the third and fourth quarters to erase a twelve point deficit, before giving up one final Giants touchdown, resulting in the 38-35 final score.

The general consensus seems to be that this game was the one that propelled the Giants into becoming the team that marched through the NFC playoff field with three straight road wins and gave them the confidence to believe they can be the team to dethrone the undefeated Pats. Of course they can, and this is how.

Please allow me to present the Top Ten Ways the Giants can Defeat New England in Super Bowl XLII:

10) Kidnap Bill Belichick and replace him with the real Darth Vader to prowl the New England sideline.

The success of this one depends upon when the kidnapping gets accomplished. If it's after Belichick and company has finished installing the game plan for Sunday, which probably has already happened, it may be too late.

9) Duct-tape the mouth of every Giants player shut and hope the Patriots forget what Osi and Plaxico already said.

Why does every team seem to feel the need to poke the bear? It's what happens on the field that matters, and talking smack then losing just makes players look silly.

8) Recruit Mother Nature to run an Alberta Clipper down over Glendale, Arizona.

The more snow the better for New York, ruining the field and slowing the New England receivers to a crawl. In fact, just petition the league to move the game to Green Bay.

7) Sneak Peyton Manning onto the field in Eli's uniform.

This one's debatable as well, since Peyton's track record against the Pats is spotty at best, but he's at least a better bet than little brother Eli, who will be mincemeat after New England has two weeks to prepare defensive schemes for him.

6) Buy Stephen Gostkowski a copy of Lawrence Tynes' new book, The Art of Kicking Chip-Shot Field Goals.

If this isn't possible, somehow force Gostkowski to watch a continuous loop of the two easy field goals Tynes missed against Green Bay, hoping the bad kicking form will subliminally insert itself into Gostkowski's brain.

5) Rent every available copy of Remember the Titans, Rocky, and every other inspirational movie the Giants can find.

Then hire a crane to lift them and dump them all on top of the Patriots players while they're in a meeting. Might slow 'em down a little.

4) Recruit Lawrence Taylor to hire hookers for all the Patriots players every night until the game.

The exception, of course, is Tom Brady. Don't even bother trying it with him, he has Giselle; what would he want with a hooker? The plan for Brady is listed further down.

3) Lure all the Patriots wide receivers to University of Phoenix Stadium hours before the game.

As the crew is sliding the removable field into position, get the receivers to look in the other direction in the hopes the field will run them over. Kind of like what happened to Vince Coleman with the tarp, only on a much bigger scale.

2) Reinstall a boot on Tom Brady's foot while he's sleeping.

Not a plastic protective boot either. Make it the Denver Boot that the police use to render cars undrivable. This might keep him from sliding around in the pocket away from New York's pass rush.

1) Distract Brady.

And not with those silly Giselle masks they were handing out in New York either. He's way too focused to even notice those. They need to get photos o####iselle Bundchen-Bridget Moynihan lesbian affair. I know they're probably not readily available, but that would likely be enough to crack even Tom Brady's legendary focus. It's certainly cracked mine.

"On the First day of Christmas my true love gave to me: A High Definition TV.
On the Second day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Two Sox World Series and a High Definition TV.

On the Third day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Three New England Super Bowls, Two Sox World Series and a High Definition TV.

On the Fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Four Bobby Orr, Three New England Super Bowls, Two Sox World Series and a High Definition TV.

On the Fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Five Championship DVD's...Four Bobby Orr, Three Pats Super Bowls, Two Sox World Series, and a High Definition TV.

On the Sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Six Petrocelli, Five Championship DVD's...Four Bobby Orr, Three Pats Super Bowls, Two Sox World Series, and a High Definition TV.

On the Seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Seven Bourque and Espy, Six Petrocelli, Five Championship DVD's...Four Bobby Orr, Three Pats Super Bowls, Two Sox World Series, and a High Definition TV.

On the Eighth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Eight Carl Yastrzemski, Seven Bourque and Espy, Six Petrocelli, Five Championship DVD's...Four Bobby Orr, Three Pats Super Bowls, Two Sox World Series, and a High Definition TV.

On the Ninth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Nine Teddy Ballgame, Eight Carl Yastrzemski, Seven Bourque and Espy, Six Petrocelli, Five Championship DVD's...Four Bobby Orr, Three Pats Super Bowls, Two Sox World Series, and a High Definition TV.

On the Tenth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Ten Blogger Comments,

(Longsufferingclevelandfan Dec 10, 20077:42 AM
What a worthless Blog. Guarantees have been meaningless since Joe Namath. It did nothing to influence the output of the game, or their Game Plan. Geeze -)

Nine Teddy Ballgame, Eight Carl Yastrzemski, Seven Bourque and Espy, Six Petrocelli, Five Championship DVD's...Four Bobby Orr, Three Pats Super Bowls, Two Sox World Series, and a High Definition TV.



On the Eleventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Eleven Drew Bledsoe, Ten Blogger Comments, Nine Teddy Ballgame, Eight Carl Yastrzemski, Seven Bourque and Espy, Six Petrocelli, Five Championship DVD's...Four Bobby Orr, Three Pats Super Bowls, Two Sox World Series, and a High Definition TV.

 

And on the Twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Twelve Tom Brady, Eleven Drew Bledsoe, Ten Blogger Comments, Nine Teddy Ballgame, Eight Carl Yastrzemski, Seven Bourque and Espy, Six Petrocelli, Five Championship DVD's...Four Bobby Orr, Three Pats Super Bowls, Two Sox World Series, and a High Definition TV!"
To everyone who has taken the time to read Half-Baked Ravings, have a very Merry Christmas, or whatever holiday you choose to celebrate. Cherish your loved ones and keep things in the proper perspective. Stay safe and Happy Holidays!

 

 

From the Associated Press comes this little nugget of good sportsmanship, not to mention cleverness and the ability of someone to think outside the box: Puerto Rican beauty pageant officials are conducting an investigation in an attempt to determine who was responsible for coating pageant contestant Ingrid Marie Rivera's evening gown with pepper spray and spiking her makeup with more of the same.

Rivera, who incredibly kept her composure while on stage and still won the pageant despite being forced to apply ice packs to her face and body after competing in an effort to combat pepper-induced hives and swelling, now becomes the official embodiment of the expression, "Cool under pressure." Tom Brady eat your heart out.

Is your team's quarterback exposed like Britney Spears on a Saturday night, taking a heavy rush thanks to a literally offensive line? Tell the hapless fool to man up and imagine having to promote world peace or explain to a panel of judges how you plan to combat global warming, all the while ignoring the constant itching and burning, forced to smile like a Stepford Wife and show no pain.

Does your team roll over and pee themselves like frightened puppies when the going gets tough in the fourth quarter? They need to imagine smiling like they don't have a care in the world, all the while swearing to themselves to extract a horrible vengeance against the anonymous poor-sport who smeared pepper spray in their eyeliner, causing their eyes to water like #### Vermeil's after, well, nearly every occasion.

This incredible story will undoubtedly become halftime pep-talk fodder for every coach who had to witness a less-than inspired performance out of his team in the first half.

"Win one for the Gipper?" Nah. Too old-school and done to death besides. From now on the rallying cry all over the sporting world will become, "Win one for Ingrid Marie Rivera! Now you guys get out there and play like a bunch of queens! Beauty queens, that is."

It happened again Sunday night, and you know what I'm talking about if you pay any attention at all to the blog posts that flood Foxsports.com daily - the New England Patriots buzzsaw ripped through Buffalo, shredding the Bills for 56 points and a 46-point victory.

The outrage is predictable and laughable. All the people that are offended and angered that the New England Patriots are "running up the score" on all of their poor, defenseless opponents, and I mean that literally, would be defending the perfect storm of point-scoring if it were their own team lighting up the scoreboard like politicians spend money.

Let's face it, folks. Like it or not, Bill Belichick and the Patriots are going to keep their foot on the gas pedal until the finish line every time they step on the field. It might be hard to watch if you're anything but a Pats fan, but, to quote a tired old cliche in the sporting world, "It is what it is."

Fans seem to be a lot more upset about the thrashings than the players and coaches who actually have to put up with it on the field. Don't get me wrong, I don't doubt for a second that every single opponent who has had his nose rubbed in his own excrement this season is anxiously awaiting the day when the shoe is on the other foot because, as we all know, to quote another oft-used expression, "Payback's a ####."

Whether it happens in a year, two years, or ten years, at some point the cleat will be on the other foot and the Patriots and their fans will pay dearly for the current team's offensive and defensive excellence. Everyone involved in one of these whuppin's will remember and show no mercy to a Pats team that in all likelihood will have very few if any players left from the team causing the payback but hey, that's the nature of sports.

Sure, the Patriots could have started running the ball earlier Sunday night, but if you were watching in the second half when tree trunks like Heath Evans and Kyle Eckel were gashing the Buffalo defense for huge chunks of yardage, how much difference would it have made? Would it hurt less if the final score had been 42-10? Is that an acceptable margin of victory? What about 35-10?

And Tom Brady sat out almost the entire fourth quarter. Is that not good enough? Should he have been benched after halftime to get Matt Cassel some more experience? Most people agree that if anything happens to Brady the Pats are #### so does it not make sense to keep him as sharp as possible?

The fact is, people around the country are sick and tired of all the talk about the Patriots and even though I'm a Pats fan, I can understand it. Nobody wants to feel like their team is underappreciated but please, I'm begging you, stop whining about New England running the score up and remember, what goes around comes around.

Look forward to that day and when it comes, any New England fan worth his salt will keep his mouth shut and take it like a man. When Patriot fans start complaining about having the score run up on them, that will be the time to remind them of the 2007 season. I guarantee they will stop complaining and a dreamy smile will come over their faces.

Come on, Colts fan, admit it. When Logan Mankins recovered Lawrence Maroney's first quarter fumble in the end zone after three Indianapolis players had fallen on the ball, seemingly smothering it like polar bears laying on a robin's egg, you thought to yourself, "Oh, no, here we go again.

Then, when Asante Samuel returned a Peyton Manning pick 39 yards for a touchdown late in the first half to make the score 21-3 New England, you thought, "What is it with these guys?"

As it turns out, there was nothing with these guys. At least nothing a second half of football right out of the Air Coryell archives wouldn't cure. All the Manning playoff demons, all the ghosts whispering in the ears of the players, "You can't beat New England in the playoffs," all the doubting Thomases, all the people who said Dungy's not a good coach because he can't get to the Super Bowl, all those naysayers were banished to a remote spot in the football kingdom after the Colts' come-from-behind (no, let's be accurate, after the Colts' come from way, way behind) 38-34 victory in the AFC Championship last night in the RCA Dome in Indianapolis.

You are well aware, no doubt, that the comeback from an 18-point deficit was the biggest in Conference Championship history, the Fox talking heads told us that as soon as the game was over. But try these two numbers on for size:

32 points
311 yards of offense

That's a pretty good day's work for an NFL team, especially in the playoffs, where the competition is so intense and the teams are the best of the best. When you consider those were the second-half numbers for Indianapolis, you realize that the New England dam didn't just crack, there wasn't a loss of structural integrity where a little water came trickling through, this was a demolition of biblical proportions. This was locusts swarming over the land, this was Ronald Reagan winning 49 states in the presidential election, this was Miracle taking on Mother Theresa in a cursing contest.

The Colts gained yardage in huge chunks, acres of real estate at a time falling under their galloping hooves, starting with their drive to end the first half with a field goal, making the score a seemingly uninteresting 21-6 at halftime. Ah, but that one little bitty field goal accomplished two things: It gave the Colts a little momentum going into halftime, and more importantly it made it a two-possession game with the Colts getting the ball to start the second half.

For all of this, for all of Manning's brilliance and Dungy's coaching prowess, going against logic by coming out and running the ball to open the thrid quarter, New England still had a real opportunity to advance to the Super Bowl in Miami. They held a three-point lead, with the ball, with about three-and-a-half minutes remaining in the fourth quarter.

A couple of first downs would have either run out the clock or forced Indy into a desperation scenario. A championship team needs to be able to run the ball first and foremost. Allow me to present the Patriots second-half rushing totals: Five carries for eight yards. After gashing Indianapolis's defense for big gains on the ground throughout most of the first half, the Patriots were either unwilling or unable to commit to the run in the second half and it ultimately cost them an opportunity to salt a winnable game away.

In the end, the Pats were forced to punt the ball away, allowing this generation's most prolific quarterback 2:27 and two time-outs to come back from just a three-point deficit. At home. Game over. It was nearly too easy, as the Colts scored almost too fast.

After Indy's touchdown gave them a 38-34 lead, Tom Brady and New England got the ball back with 54 seconds remaining. This time, though, no more miracles were left in the bag of tricks as Marlin Jackson intercepted a Brady pass and almost immediately dropped to the ground. There would be no stripping the ball away en route to a miracle comeback here.

Although it's a tough loss to #### from a Patriot fan's point of view, it was an exciting and interesting game to watch. Congratulations to the AFC Champion Colts, back in the Super Bowl after a 36-year absence.

And to all you Colts fans who commented on my blog posts, and took my ragging of Manning and the Colts in the good-natured manner in which it was intended, thanks for reading. It was fun. See you next year.

Hello, you've reached the Manning residence. No one is available to take your call right now. Just leave a message and Peyton will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you!

BEEEP!

-----"Hi, Peyton, this is Ken Selya, Director of Marketing for [fill in the name of your company of choice here, since Manning shills for everyone]. We've decided no longer to use athletes in our advertising, we're going to go in a different direction. We appreciate your great work in selling our product and wish you the best of luck in your acting....uh, sorry....uh....football, yeah that's it, football career."

BEEEP!

-----"Hello Peyton, this is Ryan Lilja. You know, your left guard? Just wanted to let you know my knee is feeling pretty bad, I don't think I'll be able to play this coming Sunday in the AFC Championship. I realize this will give Richard Seymour a clear shot at your blind side, and I feel really bad about that. Oh well, I'm sure you'll be just fine. See ya."

BEEEP!

-----"Yeah, Peyton, this is your wife, Ashley. I'm sorry to have to break the news to you like this, and it's not like we haven't had, you know, a great relationship and all, but I just found out Tom Brady is available!. His girlfriend dumped him and, well, I hear he's got a huge....collection of rings. I hope you understand, honey. Anyway, call me when you actually win a championship and we'll talk, okay?"

BEEEP!

-----"Peyton, it's your dad. I know you're screening your calls, please pick up. I went a whole career without winning a Super Bowl too and I've been able to get over it and move on. Of course, I never had the weapons in New Orleans that you've had over the years in Indianapolis - Marvin Harrison, Reggie Wayne, Joseph Addai, Dallas Clark, Edgerrin James -whew, boy, you would think anyone could win with all those choices on offense! Anyway, son, I just wanted to let you know I'm behind you all the way. Unless, of course, the Saints win the NFC Championship. Then it would just be wrong for me to root against them. I'm sure you understand."

BEEEP!

-----"Heya big guy, this is Tony Dungy calling. I just wanted to check in with you, you know, and see how your psyche is holding up. I know all the media from Mexico City to Freeport, Maine is talking about how you always seem to play your worst games in the ones that matter the most. Heck, it's been that way all the way back through college!

"Just forget about those stinkers you've thrown up against New England in the playoffs, this is a new year and a new opportunity! We even get to play them at home this time, so don't worry about all those people saying how if you can't win this year that you never will, what do they know anyway? I'm behind you all the way and always will be.

"Oh, uh, Peyton, do you happen to have Jim Sorgi's number? I just want to make sure he's ready Sunday, too, just in case, you know, you get hurt or something. Yeah, that's it."

BEEEP!

As sports fans go, I've been pretty fortunate the last several years. Teams I follow have been, for the most part, more than a little successful. The New England Patriots won three Super Bowls in four years, and the Boston Red Sox threw the #### off their backs in 2004, winning the World Series. Of course, he seems to be climbing back on, but that's a story for another day.

I only bring this up because it illustrates perfectly my typically exquisite lack of timing in buying a new big-screen high-definition TV. I took the plunge shortly after the Super Bowl this past February, meaning all those championships were won during my own personal dark ages of television-watching.

I had debated buying a new TV for a while, but a number of factors had prohibited me from taking the plunge. Prices were high, and I suspected that they would come down as the technology became more readily available. Also, I figured the longer I waited, the more the technology would be perfected, resulting in a better picture and a more enjoyable couch-potato experience.

Plus, my wife wouldn't let me. Okay, that was the only real reason; I came up with all those other justifications in a vain attempt to retain a little of my dignity and self-respect. She finally gave the thumbs-up late this past winter, and we have been living life in high-definition ever since.

I won't bore you with examples of how incredibly superior HD is to regular television viewing. No doubt you've seen the difference, either on your own TV or a friend's. For a sports fan, HD is like being at the stadium, only better, especially if you're talking about Fenway Park.

No standing at the trough in the men's room for me. No overpriced, watered down, warm beer which I have to juggle on the trip back to my seat, only to have it spilled down my shirt when the fat guy in the seat next to me leaps up to see if Trot Nixon's line drive is going to stay fair. No paying $25 for the privilege of parking in some nasty gas station and walking the half-mile to the park, then waiting in my car for 45 minutes after the game for the drunks parked around me to finally find their cars and leave so I can get out.

I have the best seat in the house, the best ticket to every game. I know it's the best seat in the house, because it's the one I picked out to watch the game in. I can show up thirty seconds before the first pitch and know I'm not going to miss anything, and if I do, I can rewind the Tivo and look again.

I can count the stitches on a Tim Wakefield knuckler, assuming of course he's pitching. I get a close-up of Julian (Freddy Krueger) Tavarez' face and shudder. I look into the Patriots huddle and almost hear Tom Brady calling my number.

All this for the low price of only....well, suffice it to say the sales people didn't know what hit them when I walked out of that store with my television and interest-free financing for 18 months. They must have been more intimidated than I thought by my hardball negotiating, considering how often they want me to come back and buy stuff. It's clear they want to keep me happy.

Anyway, that's my story, brought to you in realistic high-definition. I could talk about my HDTV for hours, but it's getting late and I have a ticket to my usual seat for the Sox game. If I'm late, the usher sometimes cops a real attitude and believe me, she's not someone you want to mess with.