Bracket Racket: "Jribble Jrive, Jrue!"

Any time we see NCAA b-ball brackets which look this totally awesome, it usually means that the stage is set for the funnest tournament ever. *

(* -- "funnest," in this case, might actually be a euphemism for "biggest pile of shit," but your mileage may vary ...)

Of course, for this to be the funnest tourney of the Y2Ks for FUCLA (Final 4 appearances the previous three seasons), we'll need to see if Jrue Holiday is up to the challenge.

How so?

BY TAKIN' IT TO THE RACK ... WITH THE JRIBBLE JRIVE!!!

God-frickin'-dammit-all ... this is gonna be the most off-the-hook tournament in the history of the universe ... what, with Chief Kickingstallionsims in the play-in game on Tues. and then Jrue Holiday jrainin' the jumper!

In fact, the only way this tourney could be any more awesomer than it'll already be would be if they used the same prop that the ol' MTV Rock N' Jock b-ball contests had back in the day -- a regular hoop-and-backboard paradigm, but with a ANOTHER HOOP (and net!) anchored to the top of the backboard.

For anyone who put a shot through ... 5 POINTS!

Digger: "Team X can get back in this game -- but only if they spread the court and hit those quintuples!"

Lavin: "Diagonal passing ..."

Raftery: "Send it in, Jerome!"

Wait ... when the flock did we start talking about "Jerome"?
This is 'sposed to be about Jrue.
And the jribble jrive ...
And jrainin' the jumper ...
Or jrawin' the foul ...
In jramatic fashion ..
While jrenched with sweat ...
In the huge win against Jrexel ...
Before the jrunk jrivin' arrest the night before the NBA Jraft ...
And gettin' jropped from the Grizzlies' wish list ...

By the way, what ever happened to the common spelling of the name "Jrue"?
Y'know ... "J-R-E-W"?
Ring any bells?

And, by the way (again), if Jribble-Jrive Jrue can't get it done with his jribble-jrivin' and his J-jrainin', dare we put all of our eggs into the basket of Steffphon Pettigrew of Western Kentucky?

That would be the logical move -- but only if Sttefffphhonn Petttigrrew was goin' one-on-one vs. Blaise Ffrench (now that we don't have Chief Kickingstallionsims to kick around any more).

WTF? Somebody somewhere said that Blaise Ffrench and his UTEP Miner teammates are playing in something called "the College Basketball Invitational Tournament" (which, from what they tell us, is approx. three notches below the I.M. hoops at most campuses).

Seriously ... Blaise Ffrench has two F's on the frontside of his last name.

Some people might opine that Jrue and Steffphon and Ffrench have names which are ffuckking idiotic -- but, those people are close-minded to the concept of The MTV 5-Point Shot.

And, maybe in those folks' office pools, they can't decide which way to lean on that breathtaking first-rounder.

ZAGS vs. ZIPS!

The first place to turn re: handicapping this barnburner (before we get jrowsy and jrift off to sleep) is Disneyland's B-Ball Channel ... and that 6-headed braintrust.

WHEN ______ MAKES THEIR SHOTS, THEY'RE AS GOOD AS ANY TEAM IN THE COUNTRY.

________ NEEDS TO REBOUND.

______ CAN'T TURN THE BALL OVER OR THEY'LL BE IN TROUBLE.

IT'LL BE INTERESTING TO SEE IF _______ CAN MATCH _______'S PHYSICALITY.

_________ HAS TO MAKE THEIR FREE THROWS OR THEY'LL BE IN TROUBLE.

________ HAS TREMENDOUS LENGTH (this one belongs to Atty. Bilas -- and since "height" is how we measure how tall a team is and "physicality" is how we measure a team's athleticism and toughness, it seems as though "length" is how we measure the size of the players' dongs ... nice work, Jay ... "permission to treat as hostile, Your Honour?")

IF ______ MAKES THEIR THREES, THEY'LL GO FAR.

________ PLAYS WITH A LOT OF COURAGE.

________ PLAYS WITH A LOT OF PASSION.

_______ HAS TO MAKE THEIR THREES ... AND NOT TURN THE BALL OVER ... AND REBOUND ...

________ IS A TERRIFIC COACH.

Gotta love the hoop-speak Mad Lib ...

Since Digger and Vitale are bigger spin doctors than most politician's PR staffs, we're never going to real opinions such as "_______ PLAYS LIKE A BIG PUSSY" ("I never said he IS a pussy ... he just plays like one") or "______ IS WORTHLESS AS A COACH" ("I never said he was worthless as an individual ... he just can't coach, that's all"), we're resigned to saying, "It is what it is" and then clicking the TV remote to something other than the soft-serve, creamy nonsense in a waffle cone which coll. BB dishes out.

Dickie V. maybe doesn't remember the MTV 5-point shot, but he'll sell ya lollipops and balloons, anyway.

Love that egghead. He reads from his Mad Libs sheet and says roughly the same 10 things each game.

(Note: The all-time best-ever description of a college b-ball star was offered almost 20 yrs. ago when Stanford's Aussie import Andrew Vlahov -- a thick, tough-as-nails power forward w/ a handshake like a vise-grip which he used to help the Cardinal win the '91 NIT title -- told my Mrs. that one of his teammates "squats when he pees" ... a quote which works best when used w/ either a real or fake Aussie accent)

We've got a lot of fellas in this tournament who squat when they pee (punchline: "... and when they're ready to take a dump, they stand upright and shit their shorts at the free-throw line.")

Some people figured that when President Oprah came into power, he'd clean up this frickin' mess.

Alas, President Oprah's father is a Kenyan dude -- and Kenyans have never had any pull in this tournament ... not the way that Sudanese refugees (such as Duany Duany and Kueth Duany) and Cameroonian tribesmen (such as Luc Richard Mbah a Moute or Frank Tchuisi) or Senegalese warlords (such as Bamba Fall, Samba Fall and Papa Dia) or Tanzanian superstars (such as Hasheem Thabeet) or the Nigerians (such as Olajuwon, Okafor and that guy Okalija) have.

Kenya might have had some teams which have won the Jungle Ball Invitational or the Congo Holiday Classic, but they can't hang w/ the American game.

Hence, the only way to dress up this pom-pom bore-a-thon is to bring back the Sheraton commercials from last season's tourney.

When Sorrycuse fan uses his forefinger to dab at the bleu cheese splotch on Georgeclown fan's moustache ... CHUBBY ALERT!

That is ... if you're gay.

If you're straight and interested in legit competition, you're gettin' your mind right because the Stanley Cup playoffs are right around the corner.

There's a red line and a blue line, but no 3-point line.

Gotta fix that.
Better use a jrill and a screwjriver.
Oh, and don't forget the jropcloth.
Or it's gonna be a real jrag ...

###

Overtime Crime (Times 6)

Ordinarily, when a game is tied following 40 minutes of regulation and five 5-minute OT sessions as the clock inches past 1 a.m., it's not difficult to imagine the typical American male lying in bed, checkin' out the action, glancing over at his lover (or life partner) and whispering, "Howzabout lettin' me nail you the way that Devendork is nailin' those J's."

It's almost impossible for that girl --- be it your spouse, someone else's spouse, a hooker (high-priced or crackhead) -- or that fella (be it closet gay, street hustler, NAMBLA text-message teen) to resist such a zinger of a hook and NOT slip off those scivvies and oblige.

Just goes to show -- a Thursday Night With Devendork tastes better when it turns into a Friday Morning With Devendork.

(Hint: So as nuthin' ends up "prematire," it's always best when you're "almost there" to close yer eyes and envision Boeheim ... sorta like the way he gives it to America up the poop chute every time his team takes the court)

It is ironic, isn't it? When an MLB game goes 17 or 18 innings, not too many Americans would ever call that "epic" or "Biblical" (although the same can't be said of the NFL or NHL because of the important element we know as "sudden death").

However, when an abortion of a ballgame betwixt Sorrycuse and AirCon goes deep into the night and when the afterbirth finally plops onto the asphalt in the wee hours (1:25 or thereabouts) of a Friday morning, it can often elicit powerful emotions from ESPN's play-by-play guy who called that game -- Pom-Pom Sean.

McDonough recapped the messiness in the following manner:
"We were especially privileged to be a part this et cetera et cetera et cetera, blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda ..."

And, don't forget:
"We throw around words like 'courage' and 'heroic,' et cetera, et cetera and so forth and so on ... "

Seems as though Sean might've forgotten the word "bravery."
And "valour" ...
And "honour" ...
And "dignity" ...
And "fortitude" ...
And "passion" ...
And "zero grams trans-fat" ...

At first, it seemed as though Sean McDonough and much of America had completely lost their marbles, given that this was only a basketball game and nuthin' more.

Not mesothelioma research ...
Not mine-sweeping in Afghanistan ...

But, upon closer inspection, maybe America actually IS ready to embrace Devendork as its new B-Ball Messiah, just as it has embraced a Kenyan-American as its White House main squeeze.

40-Minute Devendork is nice ... but, Sextuple-OT Devendork ... that's a major chubby (although, when ya get right down to it, we can always DVR Devendork any time we want and then create a DVR Devendork Weekend Marathon ... as in "Devendork On Demand").

That kid's larger than life.
A little like Van Damme and Vin Deisel rolled into one.

Eric DeeVanDamme ...
Eric DeeVinDiesel.

And, isn't that what makes America (In Crisis) great?
Like Van Damme and Vin Diesel, DeeVanDamme isn't very talented, but, what makes him cuddly is the pasty-skin, the incomplete beard, the sleepy-eyed facial expression w/ mouth slightly agape and -- "wait for it" ... those tatts!

Yummy, yummy, yummy ...

When he leaped onto the courtside media table after he presumed that his end-of-regulation J had just made him King Of The Universe ... that was pure magic from The Deev.

Like the night before when he was talkin' shit, drainin' J's and then posin' with vanilla gangstuh gestures ...

"All y'all ... "

God bless, America ... and this (once-proud) nation under God is powerful because WE THE PEOPLE have forgiven Devendork for past indiscretions ... which is how Boeheim got Devendork's punching-in-the-face of a chick downgraded to (maybe) a slap ...

Before it was downgraded to (maybe) some mean words ...
Before it was downgraded to, yeah, it probably happened, but, c'mon, she's a chick and he's The Deeve -- and the beeee-yotch was probably askin' for it, y'know?

Oh ... and, in case anyone asks, the charisma of Boeheim is best-described in song, such as "who can take a rainbow / wrap it in a sigh / soak it in the sun / and make a groovy lemon pie / Jim Boeheim, man / Jim Boeheim, man, can ... "

Boeheim and Bernie Fine have created a legendary (who said anything about "outlaw"?) program (albeit one which, unlike the days of Tarkanian, doesn't usually win squat).

Anyway, the Sorrycuse Onganaets won because AirCon's clean program was 3 of 20 on 3-balls in the 6 OTs (Kemba Walker was 0 of 5).

While Jonny Flynn's 16-16 FT was very respectable and The Deev's 1 turnover in 61 minutes was impressive, this "one for the ages" concept needs to be stuffed into a Hefty trash bag and tossed into the dumpster.

Of course, if it's anyone from either roster doin' the tossin', get ready to chant "Airrrrrr-ballllll, airrrrr-ballll ..."

Now, go take your NCAA Sweet Sixteen losses like the brave little warriors Sean McDonough said you are ...

b

Marked For Death

According to Mark, the recent sequence of landmark events went like so: //// He capped another summer playing softball with the same guys he's played with for 15-20 yrs. and he went something like 17 for 19 in their final tournament of '08. //// Then, he turned 50 in November. //// Then, he underwent a CAT Scan to determine the cause of his frequent headaches -- andwas diagnosed with glioblastoma. ///// If we're compiling corresponding responses, it's: A) "Seriously? 17 for 19?" B) "50? Nice job, man ... " C) "Glioblastoma? That's a death sentence from which there is no escape." ///// Glioblastoma ... that shit takes ya down quick. ///// It's the same type of brain cancer which killed Johnny Oates (not to mention millions of others). ///// Just hearin' those words -- "brain tumor" or "brain cancer" -- it shakes ya up and reminds ya of what Pops went through. ///// They gave him 2 mos. to live and he extended it to 3. //// In the end, though, The Big C -- an arbitrary predator -- always wins. ///// And, glioblastoma is as bad as it gets. ///// In Mark's case, more tests are scheduled, but, according to those in the cancer community we've come to know in the past year, glioblastoma is ruthless ... serving up turbo-charged punishment. //// It's a guarantee that Mark'll be dead within 2 yrs. ///// Ya simply cannot outrun The Big C. ///// It definitely hits home when you yourself are saddled w/ three gigantic risk factors -- 1) Your Zodiac sign is Cancer 2) Your wife is recovering from breast cancer 3) You're sucking down another Marlboro (as you've done for 26 yrs. in a row) ... not necessarily in that order. //// What else hits home: Mark's face when he stopped by today. He used to look a little like Ed Harris with hair ... but, not so anymore. ///// Dude was unrecognizable. ///// He looked nothing like the guy we've known for yrs. ... the friend who brought Zo-Zo to the D.P. and then was a patient receiving treatment for neck pain two years ago. //// Today? That WAS NOT Mark. //// It didn't look anything like him. ///// Cancer drugs'll do that to a fella ... it matters not if you've got a large family ... or if you're a single guy who happens to sell insurance ... and enjoys takin' his rescue Golden to the D.P. //// He can still do that ... but, softball must seem like a memory. ///// For those of us who played against him, it was easy to classify him as a classic softball rat. //// Not a He-man super-mashing ball-smasher, but constant in his constant line-drive production and goo enough wheels to scoot around the bases and cover some ground in LF. ///// He was playin' second base when I cranked that double down the RF line and as I arrived at second, he remarked that I should be doin' that EVERY at-bat. ///// Maybe he noticed that I wasn't especially motivated playing with a bunch of strangers who didn't seem to give a crap (which, invariably, always affects my focus). ///// Softball and cancer ... it's reminiscent of the time when non-Hodgkins lymphoma sidelined Johnny A. -- the ultimate No. 3 hitter -- for almost the entire '95 season. ///// When ya see something like that, you can either offer up platitudes -- or you can shave yer head for a fallen brother before affixing a "34" decal (no larger than a postage stamp) to the lower left sleeve of your softball shirt. ///// Not everybody understands such gestures ... because not everybody acknowledges the line between talking about something and doing something about it. ///// It's true: 100 yrs. ago, when somebody had cancer, that person was said to have tuberculosis and/or dementia ... and when the morphine ran out, that somebody was dead at age 34. ///// Now that I'm in my third year of softball retirement (not so much by choice), there's not softball shirt on which to apply an "MK" decal. ///// Was it really 5 yrs. ago when the Fightin' Phils Phamily lost three guys to aggressive brain cancers within a year? //// Ken Brett (at age 55) in Nov. '03 ... followed by Tug McGraw five days into '04 (at age 59) ... and then Oates (at age 58) seven days before the end of '04. //// Two years ago, John Vukovich checked out during spring training two years ago (age 59). ///// Those guys were lost their battles -- and Mark's gonna lose his. //// And, I don't know if memories of 17 for 19 in a softball tournament is enough to sustain a fella through such difficulty. ///// It's a fuckin' rip-off, that's what it is ... ///// + + +

Blake Griffin's Saving-The-Ball Replay (Times 10)

Blake Griffin saved the ball from going out of bounds.

Then, Blake Griffin saved it again ...

And again ....

And again ....

Then again (from a different angle) ....

And, again (from the same angle as Saves #1 thru #4) ...

Then, Blake Griffin saved the ball again ...

And then Blake Griffin saved the ball again (same camera angle as before, only, this time, the Disneyland Basketball Channel superimposed a mini graphic of Steve Phillips' head and spliced in a telephone interview about how Blake Griffin demonstrated amazing leadership blah blah blah ...

And, then, finally, Blake Griffin saved the ball again (same camera angle as before, only, this time, the Disneyland Basketball Channel super-imposed a mini graphic of Mark Schlereth's head accompanied by the audio of a telephone interview in which Schlereth explained how Blake Griffin displayed incredible desire and leadership yadda yadda yadda ...

Is ESPN really THAT fucking stupid -- or does ESPN think you are THAT fucking stupid?

Blake Griffin's headlong dive over the scorer's table to save a ball headed out of bounds was about as moronic as it gets.

ESPN's All-Star Tribute To Blake Griffin Saving The Ball Heading Out Of Bounds was equally ridiculous.

Completely mind-boggling ...

THIS WAS NOT BLAKE GRIFFIN diving into the crowd where 3 or 4 fans could've cushioned his fall.

No, this time, he had a very REAL chance to land in the walkway behind the table and injure his wrist, elbow or shoulder.

But, since every on-camera joker at ESPN is a queen-sized pussy, nobody's going to have the guts to tell America how idiotic that play was.

So, we must ask, the next time that Blake Griffin runs into the middle of traffic on the busy interstate to save a bag of Goldfish crackers that a little girl in the car ahead of him accidentally dropped out the window, maybe ESPN can place the Steve Phillips mugshot on our TV screen and have him offer a sound-byte from his sex-addict daze ... when he maybe banged a teenager (boy or girl, it don't really matter ... he's a recovering addict, remember?) or two on the way home from Shea Stadium.

Now, THAT'S quality TV!

The visual: Griffin scooping up the Goldfish while diving out of the way of an 18-wheeler ...

The audio: Steve Phillips educating America re: curtains-matching-carpet ...

b

Gym Dandies (An Ode To "Strap")

THOSE B-BALL GAMES ON TV TODAY ... in a word: "ShamWow!"

What heart-stoppers.

First, we saw Coach Dale get himself kicked out of the game against Dugger, so it was up to Shooter to draw up the winning play -- the Picket Fence, which Merle (#12) drained because he didn't "get caught watching the paint dry ..."

OHMIGOD ... then in the regional brawl vs. Terhune (at Deerlick), wouldn't ya know that Strap (#53) would come off the bench and make some nifty moves for a pair of critical baskets late (after Coach Dale had instructed him specifically to shoot only if he was all alone under the basket ... well, that's the Lord's strength for ya ... you can feel it ... ).

Then, Hickory survived the sectional tussle vs. Linton at Jasper (home of Scott Rolen, FYI) when Ollie came off the bench and nailed those two Granny-shot free throws.

Just as people tend to forget how close Linton's desperation halfcourt heave at the buzzer came to going in (that ball caught PLENTY of rim), they also forget that in the state championship game vs. South Bend Central the play in which Jimmy Chitwood buried the straight-away, 20-footer at the final horn was originally designed to be the Picket Fence play w/ Merle taking the decisive shot.

Jimmy: "I'll make it."

DELETED SCENE: The moment when the Hickory Huskers break from the sideline huddle and Merle says to Jimmy, "You fuckin' miss this and I'm gonna take yer fuckin' skull and smash it through the fuckin' bus windshield."

NUTHIN' BUT NET! (cue triumphant music w/ the bold horn section & drum accompaniment)

What can ya say? Encore had "Hoosiers" on the playlist this morning ... and, well ... when you're married to a gal who lived in that state when the movie had its nationwide release 25 yrs. ago (although she's never been a fan of the actress who played Myra Fleener), well ... it was either Encore or it was a trip downstairs to the DVR to re-connect with one of three champions from '08 (Hockeytown, The Fightin's, Terrible Towel Triumph ... difficult choices, to be sure ... ).

College b-ball 2009?
Don't go there, girlfriend!

Seriously ... does that look like Hickory vs. Cedar Knob to you?
Do you see Hickory playin' Oolitic?

All they give us nowadays is some Wronghorn player baby-tappin' Blake Griffin in the face -- and then Blake's gotta sit for the remainder of the game ... and then all we get is A.J. Abrams camping along the 3-point line ... camping, camping, camping ... then, he knocks down a 3-ball or two and he's hailed as some sorta new messiah (FYI: He's 21 of 80 on 3-balls in UT's eight losses ... fuckin'-A, that's 26 percent ... you could have a blood-alcohol level of .15 and still knock down 3 of every 11 3-balls, which is 27 percent ...).

Aside from the fact that he mostly sucks, A.J. Abrams is truly a swell player ...

That is, aside from the fact that his game is VERY limited.

Other than that, yup ... he's a real gym dandy ...

His white-boy counterpart is Devendork of Sorrycuse, who, last time we checked, had 5 off. rebs. this season.

You could fall out of your dorm-room window and get at least two off. rebs.

The thing is, Abrams and Devendork are complete pussies -- and here's yer proof: Abrams is an 87 percent career FT shooter; Devendork is somewhere around 80 percent.

Alas, the only times those guys sniff the foul line is if somebody with a blood-alcohol level of .15 crashes into them while they're camping, camping, camping along the 3-point line.

Soft ...
Weak ...
Incomplete ...

Ya'd think that with the great recruiting that Barnes and Boeheim do ("$$$$$hhhhh ... nobody said anything about cheating or pathetic graduation rate$ ..."), they'd put together something a lot better than this.

$ure ain't like the ol' day$ when UCLA booster, $am Gilbert, wa$ a$$isting Wooden in the building of a dyna$ty ...

bbbbbb

3 Times Glory To The 51st Power

It's always amusing when you're flippin' through your expansive collection of STEELERS' trading cards which required 35 or 36 yrs. to reach this awesome level of awesomeness (okay ... so what if it isn't as massive and comprehensive as the two monster boxes of Strictly PHILLIES, although it is bigger than the collection of "Red Wings: From Abdelkader to Zombo") and you shake yer head and smirk when you're reminded that during your first year of rootin' for the Black N' Gold, the top two WRs were Ron Shanklin (#25) and Frank Lewis (#43).

#25 and #43 ... numbers which WRs are banned from wearing nowadays, thanks to some powerful anti-legislation from the NFL years ago.

#25 and #43 ... the numbers currently worn by Steeler safeties Ryan Clark and Troy Polamalu.

A lethal combo? Well, sure ... although they'd probably be just as effective if they were wearing #6 and #96 (jot this down, though: college football continues to reign supreme fpr one basic reason -- single-digit-wearin' safeties. What's cooler than a SS or FS wearin' #4 or #9? Answer: "Nuthin'.").

We've spent the week sifting through a week's worth of Super Bowl data and determined that among the useful and fascinating in a tidal wave of repetition, redundancy and unnecessary is the 51 FACTOR.

Well, at least it is here in the Tater Tot Quadrant of the La-Z-Boy Lounge. ///// It's "a must" ...

The Sooner Schooner never plugged the 51 Factor into their equation, so they won't be the fourth jewel here in the Quadruple Crown.

The Sooners simply weren't 51 Friendly (which we discussed in Oct., so no big surprise, really). /////// Just as Hockeytown rode the unsung heroism of 51 VALTTERI FILPPULA to the Stanley Cup and the Fightin' Phillies benefitted from a big bucket of intangibles from 51 CARLOS RUIZ, Steeler Nation is tuned into 51 on its radio dial.

While James Harrison and LaMarr Woodley have jacked up everybody in their path for the past two seasons ... and while Polamalu has done his thing as the backbone of the secondary, diehards haven't forgotten that leading tackler, 51 JAMES FARRIOR, is the skull-crushin', rib-crackin' Alpha dog of the D.

This is numerology which mustn't be trifled with -- given that, in the past three days, some of us STEELER fans have seen a brilliantly-feathered cardinal on a branch less than 100 ft. from the front door.

Before we were waiting for the stoplight to turn green and noticed that the vehicle in front of us had a Colts trailer-hitch cover ...

Before we arrived at the next stoplight and were flanked by a red truck with two big Raider decals and a blue SUV with a large Cowboys sticker ...

Before standing in line at the post office, two people behind those two guys wearing Redskins jackets ...

Before we saw that black guy w/ the janitorial crew (who cleans Suite 201 upstairs) wearing a white 54 URLACHER jersey (if only he'd had a 51 BUTKUS jersey, tsk tsk) ...

All of these were ominous signs until we saw that monster truck heading in the opposite direction ... emerging from the I-95 underpass on Route 103 ... surging forward with two Steeler flags (driver's-side window, passenger-side window) flapping in the breeze.

Our concern has abated.

Thanks to those fabulous, fightin' 51s to neutralize omens ...

b

Big, Bold, Bad-Ass Birds?

Wasn't it only a few years ago during the Super Bowl Dead Week (maybe before SB XXXVIII or SB XXXIX) when we were told that the Arizona Cardinals were planning a cosmetic change to their logo -- that a tougher, more-agressive-looking, less-cartoonish bird would be on the helmet when the Cards took the field the following season?

Naturally, we all laughed our asses off -- primarily because the press release involved a team which, for the 478th year in a row, was not participating in the playoffs, but also because we had the perfect punchline at the ready.

"The only way to make the Cardinals' logo look tougher and more-aggressive would be if somebody drew a full-length cartoon bird holding a cartoon machine gun and a cartoon stick of dynamite."

Ohhhh ... did we laugh.
Long into the night ...

That's the funny thing about animation -- a cartoon face is made to look more human ... "wings" are drawn to look more like "hands" ... hands which can be drawn in the shape of fists which can hold machine guns and sticks of dynamite.

Funny shit ...

Well, who's laughing now?
Urlacher: "Me ... "

The STEELERS aren't laughing, we presume ... although nobody's scared of a team which was losing 34-0 to the Jets at halftime of a 56-35 pummeling or a team which was gettin' de-boned and fileted by the Pats, 44-0, through 3 qtrs. of a 47-7 shellacking.

Right, right, right, right ... "it's a totally different team now, blah blah blah ... " Because of the Ken Whisenhunt/Russ Grimm "toughness" which was instilled, it "changed the culture," yadda yadda yadda ...

As if Denny Green DIDN'T want to win ...

CHANGING THE CULTURE ... that's a trendy catch-phrase that football writers from Peter King to Jason Cole to John Clayton to Bill Williamson use as NFL-speak to further an agenda, rather than joining forces and pooling their prolific talents to create one unifying voice which says, "When the Hall of Fame voting takes place on Saturday, we'll do the responsible thing and elect Ed Sabol and Steve Sabol (the pioneering NFL Films father-n'-son masterminds) and Dick LeBeau and/or Dermontti Dawson."

When the above DOESN'T HAPPEN on Sat., we can chalk up another victory for what was articulated so articulately in "U-Shaped Logic" (2/4/06) ... and it'll only add to the list of crimes committed against the Sabols and Dick LeBeau, who, in all likelihood, will be enshrined in Canton probably 10-15 years following their deaths (see: Gene Hickerson's induction a few years ago ... 30 years after he retired, Alzheimer's had so racked his body that his failing health rendered him unable to give us an induction speech ... complete bullshit authored by those jerk-offs who call themselves "a selection committee" ... it was immoral how Gene Hickerson was violated ... and his death at the outset of this season, well, that's blood on the hands of selection committees past, present and future ... ).

Lest we forget, former Cardinal safety Roger Wehrli -- the secondary stalwart who picked up where Hall of Famer Larry Wilson left off -- was in Gene Hickerson's induction class. And, that "R.W." is likely to be joined in a few days by ex-Steeler Rod Woodson (although, sad to say, the R.W. who'll never get to Canton is R.W. McQuarters).

Equally unfortunately is the fact that in the days ahead, the nostalgia of Wilson and Wehrli will yield to Warner ... as in cutting-edge journalism repackaged endlessly as "Kurt Warner: Hall of Famer?"

Whaddya expect from writers who never played the game?
Fresh angles?
Interesting viewpoints?
Their brains are on the PUP ("physically unable to perform") list, so do the math, America ...

This is the era of the ShamWow and the Snuggie ... and the "journalism" of the era reflects these priorities.

The easy-way-out "news" hooks are: "Didja know that the Cardinals and the Steelers combined their rosters in 1944 (as WWII raged) and the 0-10 team became known as 'the Car-Pitts' because everyone walked all over 'em?" and/or "The Cardinals have allowed everyone to QB this team from the mid-'40s 'til now, be it Gary Cuozzo or Gary Hogeboom or Stoney Case or Tom Tupa, blah blah blah ..."

[NOTE: Practically everybody alive loves to play that game of "Crossover QB" in which we name all the QBs which have played for both teams. In this scenario, we've got an "active" aspect in Brian St. Pierre, who has exchanged his familiar #2 Steelers jersey for a red #2 which more closely matches the jersey color that he wore at B.C. >>> Other than BSP, however, all we can remember off the top of our heads is that Cliff Stoudt and (get this) Ted Marchibroda -- both wearers of #18 as Steeler QBs -- rounded out their careers as Card QBs. >>> The only case we can think of for Car-Pitt QB is (oh, shit) Kent Graham, the Arizona QB in '96 and '97 who Cowher chose as the starter for the 2000 opener and, oh sweet Jesus, did the Ravens treat him like a pinata or what?]

TIMEOUT!
Let's have a moment of silence as we and bow our heads for greatest soldier that Team U-S-A! U-S-A! ever produced ... the late, great Pat Tilley.
Before the black WR made the white WR obsolete, Pat Tilley was a quality WR who ran precise routes and, oooops ... it's Pat Tillman, not Pat Tilley!
(Whatever ... y'know?)

Sometimes we forget that being a proud American means that "America" includes American Samoan.

And, it might make better copy if only somebody had the onions to elaborate on what many of us read on the back of Niko Noga's 1989 ProSet trading card (#334 in the series ... the one where he's pictured on the front wearing his traditional red-w/-no-frills, Cardinal-red jersey w/ white 57 while tackling Roger Craig ... the card where we first learned that he was born in March '62 and was an 8th-rnd. selection out of Hawaii in the '84 draft).

On this card of this Card, we learned:

"Late round draft choice who defied odds and has become top-flight linebacker ... won starting assignment in 1985 ... had 13 tackles against Philadelphia in first NFL start ... first freshman ever named All-WAC ... wants to pursue career as underwater welder after football ... "

It seems insane -- an underwater welder ...
If he's not in it for the money, could it possibly be the glory?
Or is he looking to avenge the deaths of the faceless underwater welders who went before him?

Where is America's expose on the American underwater welder from American Samoa?

In many circles, Niko Noga will remain a forgotten Cardinal (except to those of us who rank Niko Noga with Garth Jax and Freddie Joe Nunn as our Cardinal LB Dream Team threesome ... and to those of us who will never forget that his full first name is "Falaniko" ... and that he was in the same NFL draft as three Texas Longhorn DBs named Mossy Cade, Jitter Fields and Freddie Acorn).

(YEAH ... that WAS a ploy to get the names of Mossy, Jitter and The Acorn into the mix ... )

Before we immerse ourselves in "The Underwater Welding World of Niko Noga," let's be clear that the Steelers are probably not fazed about facing Whiz N' Grimm, not to mention whatever secrets Brian St. Pierre, Sean Morey and Jerame Tuman are sharing.

After all, there are greater areas of concern .. such as the Hall of Fame worthiness of Hines Ward, who, if we're reading this right, might one day join Rod Woodson and Jerome Bettis (their enshrinements are pending) and Dermontti Dawson and Alan Faneca in a Canton population which some might feel is already overrun with too many Steelers.
Dick LeBeau: NOT scheduled for election any time before Super Bowl L in 2016.

It's more-likely to occur the day before Super Bowl LXXXVIII in 2054.

Which'll make for one helluvan induction speech for Dick LeBeau a few weeks shy of his 117th birthday ...

b

Nobody Named "KLOCHAK" (A Fictional Steeler)

That's how some of us spent the Super Bowl Dead Week -- bumping into someone possibly named "Klochak" -- and then later admitting to everybody:

"Klochak is not a real person ..."
"Klochak simply doesn't exist ..."
"And he never did ..."

This might be very upsetting news to 1960s weak-hitting, journeyman infielder Lou Klimchock ("sorry, Klimchock ... there's no Klochak") -- a sad conclusion which we reached when we totally-by-accident accessed http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1991_Pittsburgh_Steelers_season and made the unfortunate discovery that the lone INT TD of Bryan Hinkle's career was credited to a fictitious character named "Klochak."

Damn you, Weaniepickia ... why must you lie?

Why must you misinform not only our children, but also our step-children?

It is unforntunate-bordering-on-tragic when our sons and step-daughters are diligently doing research for their social studies report on the '91 Steelers and/or "Bryan Hinkle: My 13 Years As A Steeler Linebacker" and they access Wikipedia and notice that line from the boxscore from Game 2 of that season (Chuck Noll's final one as head coach).

In the individual scoring summary from that Sept. 8 contest vs. the Bills in Orchard Park (a 52-34 Steelers defeat), there's a factual error of Biblical proportions ... right there between Don Beebe's two TD catches in the 2nd qtr. which made the score 24-3 and and his two TD catches in the 4th qtr. which put the Bills up, 45-27, the Steelers had an INT TD (a "pick 6") by somebody named KLOCHAK.

That's how it reads: "PIT -- Klochak 57 interception return (Anderson kick)"

Honest-to-God's truth: Don Beebe actually DID have 4 TD receptions that day. That's verifiable by more than one source.

Pure fiction: Somebody named KLOCHAK played for the Steelers.

Incontrovertible fact: The Steelers had only two INT TDs in '91 ... one by Bryan Hinkle and one by that scrub CB named Richard Shelton, whose pick-6 we all vividly recall because it occurred in Noll's final game (a 17-10 win over the Browns) when Shelton picked off Bernie Koleslaw and ran it back 57 yards, slowing down inside the 5, stopping inches shy of the goal line, turning to face the field of play, outstretching his arms and then free-falling backwards, a la "the Nestea Plunge," into the end zone.

What ever happened to the Nestea Plunge?
(Answer: "Nuthin' " ... in fact, some us still use that move to get into bed every night)

We could ask Baltimore Ravens placekicker Matt Stover if he remembers Shelton's version of the Nestea Plunge/TD since, after all, he was a rookie w/ the Browns that year ... the first of his (so far) 18 yrs. in the NFL ... although such queries won't get us any closer to the reason as to why Wikipedia found it necessary to deny Bryan Hinkle his rightful TD while giving it to Nobody Named KLOCHAK.

Fortunately, the source which usually provides us with the most-accurate, NFL old-school data -- pro-football-reference.com -- credited Bryan Hinkle with his lone INT TD.

It's funny, though: When we ponder this injustice on a deeper level, we're reminded that what Wikipedia did to Bryan Hinkle is considerably worse than what happened when George tagged along with Jerry to the Saab dealership -- and then George had his Twix candy bar pilfered (or so was his accusation) by the mechanic ("Ned" or "Clem" or "Kip" ... "short name!" George barked before demanding from the customer-service employee an apology from Ned, Clem or Kip ... and that Ned, Clem or Kip be fired).

Yes ... this is much more serious.

Like when Lt. Ed Exley, son of the famed Preston Exley, assigned a fake name of "Rolo Tomassi" to create an identity for the purse snatcher who shot and killed Ed's dad.

Lt. Exley: "It's just a name I made up to give him some personality."

As we came to learn, Rolo Tomassi is the name of the guy "who gets away with it" -- at least, that's how Lt. Exley explained it to Jack Vincenes (the Big V) in Vice ... before Jack took the midnight train to the Big Adios when Capt. Smith shot him in the chest as Jack sat at Dudley's kitchen table and used his dying breath to utter, "Rohh-lohhh Toe-mosss-seee ..."

Unidentified purse-snatchers who murder off-duty cops and off-duty police captains who murder on-duty detectives might not fit the profile of the fictitious KLOCHAK ... a name which closely resembles those Steeler QBs w/ European names from a bygone era (Mike KRUCZEK in the '70s and Mike TOMCZAK in the '90s) and, in the minds of some, isn't that far different than Matt KRANCHICK (one career reception ... in 1995 ... vs. the Browns ... the inspiration for the first entry in the annals of the G.R.T. Lounge ... back when it was "Planet Haystack" ... ).

Klimchock! Kruczek! Tomczak! Kranchick! Klochak!
Carl Kolchak?
TV's "Night Stalker"???

Weaniepickia employee Jamie Klochak or Madison Klochak (or whatever his/her name is) is either pissed off at the world or just pissed that Mom gave him/her that non-gender-specific first name.

But, that should never be grounds for inserting his/her own name into the scoring summary w/o also adding the necessary [edit] or the [citation needed] tags.

Weaniepickia owes it to Bryan Hinkle, to the entire Hinkle Family and to those of us who appreciated his 13 years of service, wearin' #53 for the Black N' Gold.

Then, after we've tendered that apology in writing, it'll be necessary to burn down the house of databasefootball.com for its crimes against humanity -- specifically, for noting that, in the NFL Draft of '84, the Steelers selected not only WR Louis Lipps of Southern Miss with the 23rd selection in the first round, but also WR Duane Gunn of Indiana w/ the 23rd pick of the first round.

Sure, there exists some "unofficial" evidence that, back in the days of the mighty USFL, NFL teams had supplemental selections ... but, data is almost completely lacking as to whether Duane Gunn ever spent more than 15 minutes on a taxi squad, a practice squad or anything more than a WR confused for "The Peter Gunn Theme" by Duane Eddy.

Peter Gunn?
Duane Eddy?
[Edit]???
[Citation needed]???

C'mon people ...

AND WHILE WE'RE takin' those to task for takin' liberties ... that troublemakin' Rick Chandler showed some huevos for publishing that nude photo of Bones McJones on DEADSPIN yesterday -- although what's the deal with the guy in the background flippin' the bird when the photo was snapped?

Was it really the G.R.T. founder -- and does anyone believe his excuse that he couldn't find his a giant, foam-rubber, No. 1 hand like the one that Deadspin founder Will Leitch fashioned on the cover of "God Save The Fan"?

Was it actually Klochak in the background?
Was he signaling that "The Peter Gunn Theme" by Duane Eddy is No. 1?

Either way, let's sing it together:

"gimme a break! ... gimme a break! ... break me off a piece of that Klochak bar! ... "

b

The Audacity of Hype

"Hey, President Oprah, nice belly-flop ... "

Of course, nobody's allowed to heckle Our New Version of HIS MAJESTY on this holy, albeit frigid, In Awkward Nation Day.

Yet, with the way that he butchered the opening lines of the oath of office (when it came to putting his hand on "the good book"), it makes ya wonder if those college football playoffs that he supported on Election Eve will get off the ground -- or, if at his first few Ceremonial First Pitch occasions, he's going to short-hop the throw to the ceremonial catcher.

He is, after all, Mr. Smoooooth.

Kinda makes ya feel like he should be wearin' Ray-Bans and playin' upright bass in a jazz quartet in an ad for Camel Filters ... sorta like that previous coooool prez we had who liked to blow his sax before he got blown during sex by somebody who wasn't his wife ("shhhhhhh ... don't be dissin' our groovy ex-Prez Clinton ...").

Anyway, in the re-enactment of the Million Man March, the voice of every black person (and many Whiteys) in these United States rose up as one during the dawning of a new era as the new Kenyan-Caucasian prez achieved knighthood (soul-brutha handshake sold separately).

We were informed that this day marked a greater triumph that what happened a few years ago when Sylvester Croom became the first head coach in the SEC and this will open doors for black men and (ooops. Croom resigned amid zero fanfare two months ago ... with no tangible proof that he'd changed anything one iota in the Heart of Dixie).

Speaking of tangibility, you could actually sense the whole wide world offering a big sigh of relief and powering up a North Pole-to-South Pole smile.

Everybody everywhere was feelin' the Prez. Oprah, good-time vibe ... from the rebel soldiers in the Congo, who set down their automatic weapons and stopped gang-raping that 14-year-old ... to the Palestinian girl with explosives strapped to herself waiting an hour before climbing onto that bus filled with Israelis ... to that loser in Alabama who usually spends the morning punching the mother of his kids (who is not his wife) in the face.

This was definitely almost as exciting as the day when Orenthal was initially acquitted of decapitating his ex-wife and her Jewish buddy -- although, it's reminiscent of when Sen. Gracchus looked out over the throng and said, with voice dripping with skepticism, to Sen. Falco, "He enters Rome like a conquering hero" before asking rhetorically, "But, what has he conquered?"

It does seem weird, doesn't it? Today's a day when we should be hailing pilot Chesley Sullenberger for saving those 155 lives by landing that jumbo jet neatly atop the water of the Hudson River (and not under it).

Alas, this is U-S-A! U-S-A! and we're so much better at "parades for potential" than we are at hailing actual accomplishment.

We salute "promise" as though we're getting out of 3rd-period algebra to join hands during the rally in the gym.

The bandwagon is racing through town, but we're supposed to climb aboard not because we respect his voting record in the Illinois legislature, but simply because he's some black dude.

We were supposed to vote for him because he ISN'T the anti-Christ named Dubya, but, if Hillary wins confirmation as Sec. of State, we just elected a 2-headed Clinton anti-Christ to high office.

(NOTE: The reason some of us never vote is because Hillary spent x-number of mos. badmouthing Barack Hussein ... then, we he's elected, he tabs her as a key Cabinet member. Since it's fruitless to grasp as logical that which is illogical, let's all get together with our ex-girlfriends tonight for some quality spooning).

In addition to that which is anti-Christian, there's the matter of that which is anti-MLK.

Dr. King reasoned that we should judge people by the content of their character and not the colour of their skin.

Democrats flip-flopping sounds so un-American, does it not?

As it was, our newly-crowned President Pepsodent began Day One of the Rhetoric Regime with bold pronouncements of the remaking of America.

The "remaking of America"?

Unless he means that we need to buy more presents for Kwanzaa or that we need to learn how to do the broom dance at weddings, the only way that this "remaking" can go into the books as something "official" is if The Bruthuz and Whitey team up and fork over more $$$, as restitution, to the great-grandchildren of Geronimo and Crazy Horse for the land which we raped in return for firewater, casinos and colossal football stadiums which we built on the land which we raped.

That might prove problematic down the road -- Remade America gettin' itself all confused over which side of President Oprah's brain is on duty that day: the Kenyan absentee-father half or the white-mama half.

On the plus side, there'll be the creepy white folks (Joe Biden, Hillary Clinton) ridin' shotgun for President Oprah -- which means that, in Remade Amerca, there'll be no more foolishness, such as NFL RBs like Travis Henry banging nine different women and ending up with nine kids (who Prez. Oprah will shield with loose welfare guidelines, 'cuz one of dem babies might be presidentin' one day ... while his baby-daddy be in prison).

In Remade America, we ain't gonna be havin' no more black-on-black crime where big-city black mayors in Detroit (Kwame Kilpatrick) and Baltimore (Sheila Dixon) be sellin' out their brothers and sisters.

Thanks to President Oprah (and The R.B.I. Initiative -- y'know, Reviving Baseball in the Inner-city), there'll be no more black junkies gunning down the black guy behind the counter of the 7-Eleven ... because being President of the Remade United States of America is a much more-viable option.

That is, if the black junkie can win the run-off election vs. that kid in the Sudan right now who's thinkin', "Fuck workin' in the diamond mines just so some white bitch in Laguna Beach has a bigger rock than her girlfriend in Redondo! If a Kenyan can become President of the United States of America, then so can a Sudanista!"

Unless U-S-A! U-S-A! votes for the next Zimbabwean on the ballot.

Or unless Cleveland Indians outfielder Shin-Soo Choo throws his Cleveland Indians' cap "into the ring," as they say.

Perhaps powerful political figures such as Eldrick Woods (he with the first name "Tiger" and the Thai mama) or Muhammad Ali (he of the Muslim persuasion and the Parkinson's which developed long after he made those classic TV commercials for D-Con roach killer) are tellin' everybody that U-S-A! U-S-A! is not ready for a Buddhist president.

Try again in 2028 ...

If Oprah sez it's OK ...

It's depressing to some of us that America was misinformed that a Republican named J.C. Watts was deemed too white to be our first black president, even if he is three shades more chocolate-skinned than Kenyan-fathered, Caucasian-mothered Barack Hussein.

No love for the former Sooner QB.

Speakin' of which, memories of J.C. Watts really take a fella back to the first two years of the '80s, doesn't it?

More specifically, 1981 ... when President Reagan was shot two months after he was sworn in ...

Before we all gathered 'round to watch the maiden voyage of something called "a space shuttle" ...

Before the MLB went on strike ...

Before Diana married Charles in the royal wedding (in what was THE premier global event before today) ...

Just before MTV was born ...

Now, look at us: Reagan's dead, two Space Shuttles have exploded, Lady Di's dead ... but The MLB and MTV have never been stronger!!!

We who are about to die salute you!

Long live our 45th President of the Remade USA -- Lauren Conrad!

(Unless it's Audrina. She is, like, such a bitch. And, she probably can't give us a college football-playoff package, so what the ... )

b

43 For XLIII

"If only he'd been 3 yards deeper when he plucked that pass ... "

That's what they'll be buzzin' 'bout tomorrow ... that if Troy Polamalu had recognized the symbolic nature of what was unfolding (as it was happening), he might've made a deeper drop in coverage and, presto! ... We'd've had 43's 43-yd. INT TD clinching a trip to SB 43 during the final days of our 43rd president.

Once we take into account every factor of this Steelers-Ravens bloodbath [the Sweed drop, the Parker drop, the disallowing of a Santonio TD, the Heath catch, the other Heath catch, the Polamalu pick, the Polamalu leap, the Santonio drop, the Berger flop, all the hard-hittin', all the shit-talkin'], the factor which overrides 'em all is the moment when we admit to ourselves that the only thing better than that INT TD (which, in some circles, is called a "pick six") is the act of punchin' the REW button again and again and again on the DVR remote, just to hear Heinz Field frickin' explode the very instant that Polamalu stabs Flacco's pass.

What an eruption.
Like a volcano.
Or World War Four.
Or like when the Colts pump artificial noise into their stadium.

>>> SPEAKING OF THE REW BUTTON, THE COOLEST PART OF THAT RUNBACK WAS WHEN TROY REACHED THE 12 ... WE COULD I.D. EIGHT RAVENS IN THE PICTURE AS THEY FORMED THE HUMAN TUNNEL WHICH TROY DANCED THROUGH -- AND, TO TOP IT OFF, THE SIGHT OF (#79) WILLIE ANDERSON WAS WORTH THE PRICE OF ADMISSION BECAUSE WHAT WE SAW IS WHAT A BOOKCASE -- OR A FOUR-DRAWER FILING CABINET -- LOOKS LIKE WHEN IT TRIES TO RUN (dude's gotta stick to his regimen of 'roidin' up, gettin' into a 3-point stance, raisin' outta the 3-point stance, pushin' n' shovin', maybe fallin' down, eatin', sleepin', re-'roidin', repeat ... shhhhhh, NFL players don't 'roid, any more 'cuz 'roids are illegal, wink, wink ... ) <<<

Now that the Steelers are off to their 7th Super Bowl, this is where the Steeler fan sets down his Towel and consoles the Ravens fan with the usual conciliatory platititudes, such as, "Your team had a lot to be proud of this season. Now, let's talk about Ryan Clark's decapitation of Willis McGahee ... "

"Allegedly," hits such as Clark layin' the wood to an opponent (when he woke up, Willis McGahee thought he was Willie McGee) are 'sposed to make us all somber as we reflect that the NFL is a violent world of which 96.7 percent of us have no understanding.

You could see it in Ray Lewis' eyes as he knelt and asked his God to watch over Willis McGahee and the families of them two dead boys lyin' in the Atlanta street (who dey?) outside the Cobalt Lounge.

"Oh, snap! I dittint see nuthin'!"

>>> BUT, IF WE'RE TALKIN' 'BOUT LBs WHO ARE STILL RELEVANT, IT WAS NECESSARY FOR FLACCO TO DELIVER THAT FATEFUL PASS WHEN HE DID BECAUSE THE NFL's DEFENSIVE PLAYER OF THE YEAR, JAMES HARRISON, WAS ABOUT TO DEVOUR THE QB FROM THE BLIND SIDE ... KIND OF A COOL PLAY, TOO, CONSIDERING HOW #92 BEGAN AT THE LINE OF SCRIMMAGE, DROPPED BACK ABOUT 8 YDS. AS FLACCO WAS CALLING THE SIGNALS AND THEN CREEPED TOWARD THE LINE BEFORE THE SNAP ... CREEPING, CREEPING, CREEPING, CHARGING LIKE A PISSED-OFF RHINO ... <<<

From a pure, football-watchin' standpoint, this was not a legendary, epic tilt along the lines of Alien vs. Predator ... but, it did feature some hijinks and nailbitin' nervousness.

Tomorrow, though, we'll all be required, by law, to say it was the hardest-hitting game we've ever seen ... just because it's freshest in our memory, so it's trendy to say "Hardest-hitting game I've ever seen" ... even though some of us who lived through Steelers-Raiders in AFC Championship slugfests in '75 and '76 and Steelers-Oilers in the same setting in '79 and '80 will nod disapprovingly at "the hardest-hitting game" of all-time (ever!) ... seriously, just because Lime Is Sweet recovered from the SuperDrop to lower his helmet and coldcock Corey Ivy into incoherency, we're 'sposed to go with the flow and remark that this game was the ultimate confrontation for Alpha Male status?

This outranked Sam Davis sluggin' it out with Otis Sistrunk?
This was more-wicked than Mad Dog and Fats -- souls we lost in '08 --containing the powerful Earl Campbell?
C'mon ...

The funny thing is, Polamalu's INT was so fist-pumpin' good that it almost made ya forget about his leap-over-the-pile stop of Flacco on 4th down (late in the first quarter) shortly before the early-in-the-second-quarter, Big Ben-to-Santonio streetball play for the TD (punctuated by Santonio mocking the blackbirds with his arm-flap gesture).

This much we can assume: If our pal -- that guy with the DANISH 43 jersey who we saw (but didn't bother to talk to, so we have no idea if he's anything like us, willing to light up a Pall Mall while watching Polamalu) at the Steelers' game in B'More is compiling a Polamalu Portfolio, this game made up for the chapter of "near-misses."

If the 3-ring binder that DANISH 43 oversees matches the one in here (pointing to my head), he can quickly access Polamalu's only other career pick-6 ... way back in his second year ('04) in which he intercepted his USC colleague, Carson Palmer, and then weaved his way through Bengal traffic something like 30 yards before running over Palmer on the goal line.

That was nearly as cool as Polamalu's only other TD before today's TD ... that time in Green Bay during the '05 season when Troy From Troy blitzed Favre, missed the sack, but forced Brett to step right into the jarring hit of onrushing rookie CB Bryant McFadden, who was also blitzing.

When Favre lost the ball, Polamalu gobbled up the loose biscuit and ran off with it as McFadden continued to hustle and throw a block by acting as a moving screen to the Packer lineman in pursuit.

Of course, the near-misses have been just as memorable, be it that pass vs. Cleveland on that Sunday nighter one week after the aformentioned Green Bay game -- a ball which Polamalu was going to intercept for an easy TD to punctuate a 41-14 win ... only he doinked it, the ball ricocheted to a Browns receiver ("tip drill!") and the big gain set up a TD for 34-21 final, please drive safely ...

And, although Polamalu registered a career-high 7 INTs during this regular season, some of us have languished w/ anguish over that potential 70-yd. INT vs. Manning (which was dropped and coulda made the score 24-7 at the half) before Polamalu aggressively took a bad angle on the go-ahead TD pass which Peyton floated over his head, jeez ... ).

Such are the hits n' misses of a pro career ... and, to think, the first time we ever saw the kid was in the Kickoff Classic in '00 when 'SC played Penn State ... and following a blocked punt (or was it an INT?), Polamalu slid on the wet grass at Giants Stadium and extended his arms with the universal baseball signal for "safe!"

The first thought that crossed our minds: Who the frick does this Samoan hot dog think he is?

We found out on Draft Day '03 when the Steelers swapped their 27th pick in the first round for K.C.'s 16th pick ... and dee eeeweew (K.C. would select Penn State RB Larry Johnson, hmmmm ...).

While some of Troy's missed opportunities were his own doing, we're equally miffed that he has been ripped off a few times -- most notably, during the ending to the 11-10 game when his hustling, heads-up, loose-lateral TD was disallowed (incorrectly).

That was a screw job on par with the highway robbery perpetrated against Troy during the '05/'06 run to the Super Bowl when his playoff-game INT of SuperManning was overruled because the ball bounced off his thigh pad when he scrambled to his feet following his tumbling catch on the horseshoe logo.

THAT'S WHAT WE LOVE ABOUT THE NFL ... so arbitrary ... with rules applied so indiscriminately and capriciously (by investment bankers and guys who own a chain of hardware stores because officiating NFL games is part-time work for part-time thinkers ... guys who haven't played the game in 30 or 35 years -- and when they did -- they suited up with 10 other white guys to do battle against the 11 white guys on the other team ... ).

The game moves n' grooves now (rather than plodding n' trudging) -- which is why Santonio had his TD taken away.

If we go by the literal interpretation (the letter of the law), then, yeah ... it can be debated.

But, if the spirit of the law is factored into the mix -- if the play was judged by what we saw rather than what we read -- it seems obvious that Santonio already possessed the ball and was extending his arm in a stretch for the goal line (a seemingly smart and athletic play).

"Carry the ball to the ground" to "complete the catch"?
That sounds like partisan rhetoric ...
Or a hidden agenda ...

A literal question for a literal interpretation: Where are the penalty flags for the holding fouls which occur on every play of every game?

If there are varying degrees of holding, vis-a-vis, flagrant and/or overt, is there not some varying degree of what is a complicated incompletion and what is a "TD by athleticism"?

In a game this punishing, it's interesting that three varying degrees of holding played so prominently -- i.e., the pass which Lime-Ass couldn't hold, the end-zone INT which Frank Walker couldn't hold (because Lime-Ass was holding him) and the hold which somebody named Daren Stone put on Anthony Madison before he threw him to the ground on the Ravens sideline for a personal foul penalty which cost the Ravens 26 yds. of field position (putting the ball at the 14, not the 40) shortly before the game-clinching INT.

With a more-advantageous field-position scenario, would Flacco have altered the 16-14 score at that point?

It's a fascinating dichotomy, isn't it? (whatever "dichotomy" means) Seriously ... if the Steel Curtain does win SB43, members of the Anthony Madison Fan Club will shout with glee, "He's the reason!" (even if the only people we might ever hope to see wearing a "37" jersey 'round The 'Burgh likely have "LAKE" stitched on the nameplate ... that is, if anybody remember Carnell Lake, I dunno ... ).

Nevertheless, it was Anthony Madison who, last week vs. S.D., was engaged w/ blocking Eric Weddle on the ill-fated punt which caromed off Weddle's helmet and set up the field position for a TD which put the Black N' Gold in command.

Tonight, it was Mad Dog who drew the penalty which had the Ravens re-thinking their approach to the last-ditch drive since the series did NOT begin near midfield.

In a nutshell, it's: "Anthony Madison: Pre-Super Bowl Pre-Hero."

It truly DOES require all 53 players ... and all the fill-ins when one of the 53 goes down.

Sure, Daniel Sepulveda's season-ending injury in preseason was a severe blow to the Steelers' punting game. Mitch Berger's been a brick -- the long PR by Leonhard and the 21-yd. Berger shank set up both Raven TDs -- and, when Paul Ernster was a 3-game fill-in vs. Indy, Sandy and Cincy, he averaged only 31 YPP ... although it was his work as a holder which'll live in our hearts forever as his placement of the football -- laces out -- in the final seconds, on a perfect pass from fill-in long-snapper Jared Retkofsky, allowed Jeff Reed to execute the final-seconds FG which provided the decisive points in the only 11-10 game in NFL history).

"Jared Retkofsky: Furniture mover ... playoff stalwart ... "

Anyway, the Steeler D was heavy-duty and the O clicked on just enough big plays despite the aforementioned blips (some would say "screw-ups" ... i.e., the Parker drop, the Lime-Ass drop and the Santonio TD nullification) which could've widened that halftime lead from 13-7 to 24-7 (or an approximation thereof).

It seems as though the only reason for Fast Willie allowing that ball to glance off his shoulder pad when he was wide-open down the right sideline (one play before Hines wrenched his knee; two plays before Santonio got jobbed) was that "possibly," out of the corner of his eye, he saw somebody in the neighborhood, not realizing that the only guy nearby was The Spaeth Cowboy.

As per Sweed, some of us were there for last week's Bambi-like sprint downfield before he gakked that deep ball from Leftwich ... a reminder that the Steelers have NEVER had a reliable receiver who wears #14.

While we can't say for sure if Amos Zereoue would've snagged the ball that Parker clanked, we're almost positive that Weegie Thompson would've corraled the ball that Sweed muffed.

It's a definite head-scratcher as to why pass plays were called for Parker and Sweed when they've combined for 9 receptions this season.

Simple mathematics -- combined with the lunar tables and tide charts -- indicate that, even with Hines Ward injured, options are plentiful with Heath, Santonio, Nate, Mewelde and, sure, what the heck ... even The Spaeth Cowboy (however, Santonio could've done a better job gobbling up that slant-pass -- one play after the Sweed drop -- for a big-gainer or a TD instead of the casual attempt which resulted in a 0-yd. gain).

And, with the way that Big Ben buys time, well ... it kinda/sorta/totally doesn't make sense throwing a pass in the end zone intended for Lime-Ass, frickin'-A ... (sidebar: Why was it that God didn't assist Ray Lewis in getting more in the face of Big Ben when the back-breaking pass to Santonio was released? He was right there, but a step slow, it seemed. Was God's Linebacker worn out from dancing or praying too hard for the families of them dead boys lying in the street outside the Cobalt Lounge? Was he spent from making sure the microphones were nearby for one of his super-motivational speeches which "will" the Ravens to victory? ... LORD, THAT TOUGH-GUY TALK TO THE TROOPS IS SO TYYYY-YURD ... ).

To their credit, the Steelers didn't exactly shy away from Ed Reed (when everybody said they would).

On the game's first series, Ward added 20-25 extra yds. to the 45-yd.er when Reed was late (and played the ball, not the man).

On the Santonio non-TD, Reed was nearby ... and on the 2nd-and-24 laser which Big Ben threaded to Heath for 30 yds., Reed was in the neighborhood.

They didn't completely shy away from him ...

So, in the end, this WAS the most-satisfying outcome for America: The Steelers advancing while the Ravens w/ their rookie head coach and their rookie QB and their butt-ugly jerseys head home.

America simply wasn't ready for only its second Super Bowl since SB 5 in which both teams had every player wearing black cleats (the other was Colts n' Bears in SB 41 ... note: black cleats are killing this nation, thanks to Nike and Under Armour producing some sick-lookin' footwear ... that's "sick" as in "stupid/lame," not "sick" as in "bad-ass" ... black cleats are like your girl wearing a denim nightie to bed ... clunky, not elegant ... although, surprisingly, black cleats DO work for the Browns -- and maybe Tampa Bay -- but, not for the Bills, who used to look sleek and sharp ... now, w/ jerseys n' pants which are too busy, w/ socks w/o much white and w/ black cleats which look like sneakers, yup ... it's the look of a perennial also-ran ... ).

Looks aside, John Harbaugh couldn't channel his kid brother Jim (who was on the Ravens' sideline the week before the Steeler game at B'More) and his ol' dad Jack, who he rejoiced with on the sideline in Nashville last week.

There's no way that his brother-in-law, Indiana b-ball coach Tom Creen, was gonna receive a sideline pass.

Creen's got his own problems, such as worryin' 'bout whether his Hoosiers are going to finish 0-18 in the Big Ten.

So, it's up to America to get better-acquainted with Mike Tomlin and to get re-acquainted with the 20 or so Steelers who were on the SB XL roster.

For those of us who were fans of the special-teams, 1-2 punch (back then) of Clint Kriewaldt and Chidi Iwuoma, we're FINALLY coming to grips with twin-cincos (Patrick Bailey) and double-deuces (William Gay).

Now, it's America's turn ...

+ + +