42 posts tagged “steelers”

Well, it looks like those jackals in the liberal media are at it again.  Instead of reporting on real issues like Barack Hussein Osa--  'scuse me: O-BA-ma, and how his Muslim Indonesian upbringing influenced his hatred of America, they've gone and launched a vindictive smear campaign against John McCain for an innocent remark that just so happened to be contradicted by his autobiography.  Those bastards!

Unless you've been living under a rock for the past several months, yinz know it's an election year.  I decided a while back I was going to cast my vote for the candidate least likely to continue the disastrous foreign and domestic policies of the past eight years, and I've been pretty confident in that decision.  Until today.  You see, I learned today that John McCain is a Steeler fan.  This, naturally, gave me pause.  "Hey!" I thought to myself.  "I'm a Steeler fan too!  Maybe I was hasty in my decision to vote for the candidate who is unquestionably better for the country.  Maybe I should vote for John McCain instead.  After all, he roots for the same football team as me."

But here's the thing: in the clip above, McCain mentions admiring the Steelers when he was in high school and he graduated from high school in 1954.  It's fairly common knowledge among football fans that the Steelers' long and storied history has been long and storied only since Chuck Noll became the head coach in 1969.  Through the fifties and the sixties - indeed, for most of their early existence - the Steelers were a league laughing stock.  They made the playoffs for the first time in 1947 (they were founded in 1933) and did not make another appearance for the next two and a half decades.  For young John McCain, who then lived in Northern Virginia and had no connection to Western Pennsylvania, to have been a Steeler fan throughout some very lean years is an astounding display of dedication.

And what's more, he also recounts in the clip above giving the names of the Steelers' presumably formidable defensive line - under the pretense that they were part of his squadron - to his Vietnamese captors after his imprisonment in 1967.  Those players, by the way, would have been Ben McGee, Ken Kortas, Chuck Hinton, and Lloyd Voss.  Did yinz know that?  I didn't.  I had to look it up.  In fact, I've never heard of any of them, and I've been a Steeler fan my whole life.  Granted, I wasn't watching in 1966, but still - I know more than a few players from before my time.  Loyal fans like John McCain and me take the time to learn about the history of our favorite team.

The point here is that John McCain is no mere opportunistic bandwagon fan.  He's obviously stuck with the team through thick and thin.  Based on his extensive knowledge of the franchise's more arcane history, he's probably a bigger Steeler fan than me, and I assure you I am the biggest Steeler fan you know.  But for all his dedication to the team, he didn't even get to see their second ever playoff appearance in 1972 because he was still in that Vietnamese prison camp.  How difficult must that have been?  Yeah, that's the kind of loyalty I want to see in a Commander in Chief.  Oh, hey!  You know know who else was called "the Chief?"  Steeler patriarch Art Rooney, that's who!  I think the choice is pretty clear.  Screw the country, I'd be a bad Steeler fan if I didn't vote for John McCain.  And I just know yinz wouldn't want that.

Let me be clear, here:  I don't really have anything against Hillary, except that she's clearly the second best candidate this year.  I'd have been thrilled if she had run four years ago, but she still pales in comparison with Barack Obama.  And despite her reluctance to concede that she's all but lost the nomination, I haven't been angry with her, per se - just a bit annoyed.  Until now.  It's one thing to besmirch the democratic process.  It's quite another to sully the reputation of the greatest franchise in the history of professional sports.  Don't tread on me.

Hillary

This may shock you, but a lot of people in the highly cosmopolitan city of Picksburgh, Pennsylvania like to drink beer.  Sometimes, these distinguished urbanites even imbibe to excess.  I know!  Just like ordinary people - people like you and me!  I'm stunned too.  Anyway, it seems beloved local icon - celebrity, even - Steely McBeam is one of those jolly drunkards.  The poor guy was minding his own business, operating a motor vehicle down Carson Street on the South Side with a mere .173 blood alcohol level when he was hassled by the Man.  And now he's been fired.  There's no justice in this world.

Steely McBeam

Two years ago our local George Mason University Patriots made the second most miraculous post-season run in all of sports.  (First, of course, is the Pittsburgh Steelers' four straight road victories to win the Super Bowl from the Wild Card slot.  Third is the so-called "miracle on ice," which would be more miraculous if anyone actually gave a shit about hockey.)  In 2006, the Patriots went to the Final Four as an eleven seed, defeating NCAA powerhouses Michigan State, North Carolina, and Connecticut  - not to mention Mid-Major wunderkinds the Wichita State Shockers - along the way.  It was about, well, the second-most inspiring thing I have ever seen.  And it's times like those that I truly feel sorry for people who are unable to find anything transcendent in sporting events.

I'll never not root for George Mason again - for the rest of my life.  They're currently down by fourteen on, this, the first day of sports' second best tournament.  There's still plenty of time...

Legendary Picksburgh broadcaster Myron Cope is dead at 79.  My Terrible Towel will be lowered to half-mast for the next week.  Hear Myron in all his glory here.

Dead Fish

Myron Cope

Vrabel and Alexis entered toward the beginning of the morning rush.  With a hint of a smile he said, "I've got some bad news.  Do you want to hear it straight or do you want me to dance around the issue a little?"

Sunday mornings were my favorite shift, despite that I was supposed to be there by five-thirty.  I almost never made it there on time, but then Andrea wasn't there to chew me out for being late either.  It didn't really matter, anyway.  Unlike the rest of the week, Sundays usually didn't get busy back then until about nine o'clock.  We had plenty of time to get everything set up before the crowd showed up, and with time to spare.  Most days we had a good ninety minutes to chew the fat.  Misha was uncharacteristically chatty on Sundays; away from the prying customers he often seemed almost human.  And my co-worker Karl had a day-job; he worked only one shift a week to make some extra cash.  It was a refreshing change to work occasionally with someone who had also graduated from college.  And he knew what he was doing, so there was no need for a third wheel mucking up the works behind the counter and cutting into our tips.  We didn't get Saturday-level tips on Sundays, but they were a far cry better than what I usually earned serving tea bags and hot water refills to the annoying crowd of non-tipping loiterers that were my usual weekday evening customers.

This particular Sunday was shaping up to be a busy day.  I had to work until two o'clock and the NFL Conference Championships took place that afternoon.  My beloved Pittsburgh Steelers were playing the Indianapolis Colts in the early game, and I planned to wash some bottles while watching the Cowboys and Packers in the second game.  We had been through a blizzard just over a week prior, and I decided to commemorate the occasion by cooking up a batch of an especially chunky imperial stout.  The amount of fermentables that had gone into this diabolical brew was almost obscene.  Within a few days, it would be ready to drag out from the dark corner behind the television and siphon into individual bottles.  Another few weeks spent carbonating in the bottle and a heavy stout would be ready for consumption by mid-February, in time to ease the long, pre-KttD late winter doldrums.

I was contemplating those bottles of dark, silky stout I'd be savoring in less than a month's time when Vrabel and Alexis walked in.  Alexis had been visiting since before New Year's and they were on the way to the airport.  It was just the beginning of the morning rush, so I had time to chat for a second when I went to the end of the counter to grind a couple pounds of '66.  I wished them a good morning and Vrabel said with a hint of a smile, "I've got some bad news.  Do you want to hear it straight or do you want me to dance around the issue a little?"

I was understandably confused.  "What are you talking about?"

"Bad news.  Do you want it straight or not?"

I turned to Alexis.  "What's he talking about?"

"Your beer blew up."

I turned back to Vrabel.  "My beer blew up?"

"Your beer blew up."

I staggered.  I reeled.  "What do you mean, my beer blew up?"

"Your beer..." Vrabel began.  Alexis finished his sentence.  "It blew up."  Vrabel continued, "Alexis was in the kitchen, eating breakfast.  I was getting ready to go.  I heard a loud crack from the middle room.  I went to to investigate only to watch five gallons of imperial stout spread across our living room.  I threw some towels down, but I didn't have time to do anything more, or else Alexis would miss her flight."

I spent the rest of my shift in a daze.  Aside from the fact that two cases of potent stout were now never to be, there was the matter of an enormous mess and - most importantly - the questionable status of our still new "entertainment center" immediately adjacent ground zero.  The VCR I had owned since June, because Garrett already had an old and barely serviceable television that he left with us when he moved out.  When I was home for the previous Thanksgiving, I upgraded our television, thanks to Sister #2's employee discount in the Electronics Department of the local Sears.  Without knowing the extent of the damage, my mind raced and I feared the worst.  I had visions of still-new circuitry fried and caked with malted hops.  And what's more, I had no idea when I might return to Ohio, so my options were either to pay a then-prohibitive full price for a new television or *shudder* do without.  Either scenario was less than ideal.

I scurried home as soon as I could, even foregoing my precious tips - opting to count them the following day.  I was greeted as I opened the door by the overwhelming aroma of malt and alcohol.  A soupçon of hops was detectable within the pungent stew.  Our baby blue carpet had been stained a seemingly permanent shade of chocolate.  A cursory examination of my now-shattered carboy revealed that the tube which released excess fermentation gases had become clogged with grain and hop particulate, resulting in pressures sufficient to crack quarter-inch-thick glass.  The Mighty Roy, who had taught me to brew, claimed I was too fussy, and that I should relax.  This was the first time I had followed his advice.  Of course, he once tried to brew a chicken beer with bullion cubes and thought if a few drops of spruce essence were good, a whole bottle would be better.  So I guess it was nobody's fault but mine.  But I still like to blame Roy.

It was almost too much to bear.  Actually, it was too much to bear. I threw a few more towels on the pile and settled into the sofa to watch the Steeler game amid olfactory overload, postponing the cleanup effort until much later.  The television and VCR were both fine.  (Still are, in fact - I have the very same television on in front of me as I type.)  We lost, though, our Atari 2600 and copies of a Charlie Chaplin movie and "Some Kind of Wonderful."  The Steelers won the game and advanced to the Super Bowl, where they lost to the Dallas Cowboys.  ESPN2 rebroadcast the 1996 AFC Championship Game this afternoon, in the absence of any real football games.  I still got a little nervous, even though the outcome was decided a dozen years ago.

Look, don't let this get around, but every now and then Cappy has an idea that's not totally stupid.  Sure we initially rejected the idea of a "marathon live-blog" to coincide with the beginning of tomorrow's NFL Playoffs, but upon further review - so to speak - our call has been overturned.  The professional football season is too short as it is, so we best make the most of it.  And we sure did have fun with the live-blog last time around.  And how often is it that our favorite team and our second-favorite team have playoff games on the same day?  Not often - that's for sure.  Who knows when our second favorite team will be back in the post-season?  It could be... well, years.  We mean, the Steelers - they're there every year; they'll be back soon, for sure.  But the 'Skins?  That's anybody's guess.  Our money is on 2017.

Festivities begin around four o'clock Eastern Standard Time tomorrow - below the video, natch.  And in the meantime, speaking of the video, here's a timely clip of Coach Mora to hold yinz over until game time.

4:42 -- All right I'm a little late getting started.  I'd feel worse about it if I had other plans for the next seven hours or so.

4:45 -- Why do I listen to Cappy's suggestions?  Upon further further review, this is a really dumb idea.

4:47 -- So this is the first time I've openly rooted for the Redskins in quite a while - maybe since the beginning of the Danny Snyder era, certainly since Marty Schottenheimer was run out of town.  Helping me win my fantasy league earns my loyalty for the remainder of the season.  I'm cheap that way.

4:50 -- It eases my mind that they're playing the Seattle Crybabies.  I love rooting against them ever since they tried to ruin my Super Bowl XL buzz with their incessant excuses and accusations.  When they lose today, rest assured it will be anybody's fault but their own.

4:59 -- That was the best I've seen Shaun Alexander run all season, until the end of the play when he fumbles.  Fred Smoot picks up the ball and takes off like he's just found a dildo and there's a boat full of hookers in the end zone.

5:02 -- And Seattle wins the challenge.  It's the right call, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

5:04 -- And touchdown Seattle.  By some guy.

5:05 -- The Seahawks, incidentally, are wearing about the ugliest shoes I've ever seen.

5:08 -- Todd Collins follows up a nice twenty yard pass with a Dabysan juice-ball.  Maybe that's part of why he went ten years between NFL starts.

5:11 -- My heart is really not in this thing, in case you can't tell.  This is kind of a pain in the ass when one is actually trying to watch the game, and nobody is paying attention anyway.  I'd say the chance of me making it all the way through the Steeler game is slim, but that's not really accurate.  The chance of me making it to halftime of this game is slim.  The chance of me making it through the Steeler game is abyssmal.

5:16 -- Oh, hey!  I saw "National Treasure: Book of Secrets" this afternoon.  Man, that was a good movie, and it really tied up a lot of loose ends from the first one.  And I really like movie that teach me something.  Nicolas Cage makes history come alive.  I just wish that he'd been able to work the phrase "I'm a prickly pear!" into his big freak-out scene, though.  That would have been special.

5:21 -- "I'm a prickly pear!" - for those that don't know the reference - is a line from "Leaving Las Vegas".  That's the movie in which Nic Cage plays a guy who moves to Las Vegas to drink himself to death.  I went to see the movie on a first date.  Awkward.  Almost miraculously, there was actually a second date.

5:23 -- Oh, I missed the end of the first quarter.  Oops.

Game One: Second Quarter

5:24 -- Things are not looking too good for the Redskins right now.  That's a fumble.  Or something.

5:26 -- Incomplete pass.  Nobody asked my opinion, but I think that's a stupid rule.

5:30 -- Hmm....  The Redskins have been on the field for a while and through the tops of my eyes, it looked like they'd been making progress down the field.  I would have expected them to be farther than their own thirty-five yard line.

5:36 -- Over an hour into the game, and I'm a little surprised I haven't heard the name "Sean Taylor" yet.

5:43 -- I though when Clinton Portis tore off on that twenty yard run that the Redskins might get their shit together and move the ball down the field.  I was wrong.

5:44 -- I really hate the Seahawks.

5:54 -- Ugh.  This is going really poorly.  I feel bad for Dabysan.  I'm disappointed so far, but am able to console myself with the knowledge that the Redskins won their Super Bowl last week when they beat a Cowboys team that wasn't trying.  And that ultimately I don't really care about this game.  It's not like either of these teams has a shot to make the Super Bowl, regardless of what everyone around here is saying.

6:00 -- Just between you and me, though - I'm a little concerned that the Steelers might come out of the gate looking like the Redskins.  I'm nervous.  And my turn on the hot seat is coming.

6:03 -- It doesn't look like the Skins are going to get the fourth down here.  And they don't.  I like them going for it though.

6:05 -- I just noticed the Seahawks have gloves to match their ugly-ass shoes.  Nice.

6:10 -- West Coast Offense coaches are borderline retarded.  Seattle had a perfect opportunity to run out the clock and take a ten point lead into the half.  Instead, they ran about four seconds off the clock and gave the ball back to the Redskins.  Not that the Skins are a threat to do anything with it today, but still.

6:11 -- And that's the half.  I'm surprised I made it this far.  I've put in a real heroic effort this afternoon, and I've earned a break.  I'm not definitely pulling the plug on this train-wreck just yet, but second half updates are likely to be more sparse.

Game One: Third Quarter

6:53 -- Wow.  That quarter went by fast.  I missed the whole thing.  Looks like I missed another Crybabies field goal, so I didn't miss much.

Game One: Fourth Quarter

7:00 -- And there's touchdown for the Skins.  Miraculously, they're only down by six after Antwaan Randle El's catch.  I like Randle El.  I like most of the former Steelers.  The Skins overpaid fr him, but I wish there was a way he could have stayed in black and gold.

7:05 -- Interception, Redskins, and suddenly they're looking very much alive.  I guess Joe Gibbs woke up from his nap.

7:07 -- Ladies and gentlemen, we have a football game.  Another touchdown pass - to Santana Moss this time - gives the Redskins the lead.

7:08 -- And in the midst of all that excitement was that Sean Taylor tribute I've been waiting for.  I never would have dreamed it would take until the fourth quarter.

7:09 -- Holy fucking shit!  The Seahawks kickoff team shits the bed, and that should have been a Redskins touchdown.  Instead, they're in the red zone.

7:15 -- Oh, Jesus.  How do you miss that field goal?  Redskins blow a fantastic opportunity here.  I'm pretty sure this is karma finally getting back at Daby on my behalf for that other live-blog a few weeks ago.

 7:18 -- Hasselsuck throws another interception, and I sure am glad I'm not a real Redskins fan right now.  I wouldn't be able to handle the wild mood swings.  My own are bad enough.

7:23 -- Speaking of Daby, I just want to get it on record that I wish it were possible for me to share with you a transcription of the phone call I received at the start of the quarter.  I can't remember the last time I heard such hateful bile spewing forth about a city, its residents, and the teams they support.  Oh, wait - I can.  It was during the Steeler/Patriot game, and it came from my mouth directed toward the city of Boston.

7:25 -- Well, that doesn't help matters.  Touchdown Seattle.  Daby claims he's rooting for Dallas if next week if Seattle wins.  So now I'm torn, because that thought makes me smile.

7:28 -- A two-point conversion makes it a seven point lead.  This has turned into a really good game.  If you're not a Skins or Seahawks fan, that is.

7:31 -- Scratch that.  This has turned back into a good game for the Seahawks fans.  Whoever they are.  Ouch.

7:37 -- Just when I was thinking that the Redskins might be able to pull off a quick score and have some hope to tie the game, the Seahawks leveled Todd Collins.  And now Clinton Portis is on the ground.  Uh, not good.

7:41 -- Over at Deadspin, the tragically unfunny Unsilent Majority is also live-blogging the game.  And not to boast but he's not doing as good a job of it as me.  And I even took the entire third quarter off.  He's a Skins fan, so it pleases me that he's suffering about now.  Yes, I am this petty.

7:41 -- For the record, I'm glad I rejoined this game in time for the fourth quarter.

7:50 -- Okay, so this one is all over but the shouting.  Seahawks are going to wi-  Oh, sweet Jesus,  Another interception for a touchdown.  Yes, it's definitely over.

7:53 -- Anyway, as I was saying....  This is going to wrap-up game one of the live blog double-header.  I've found my second wind, but I'm not going to be "live-blogging" - per se - game two.  I'll be posting updates.  Mostly so yinz will know whether or not I'm still alive.  My fragile constitution can't handle a quarter like the one Daby must have just gone through.

Game Two: First Quarter

8:12 -- Alright, I've got my tantrum towel at hand, and for better or for worse, I'm ready for some football.

8:14 -- And we're off....

8:27 -- So far, so good.  A Najeh Davenport run makes it 7-0, Steelers.  It may be the anxiety pharmaceuticals talking, but I'm feeling okay.  And for the record, assuming Davenport is going to be in Picksburgh for a while, I heartily endorse the "Dump Truck" nickname.

8:30 -- Ugh.  Nevermind.  Now that the fantasy season is over, it's okay for me to hate Maurice Jones-Drew.  A great kick return sets up a Fred Taylor score.  We're tied at seven.  I think my anxiety meds are wearing off already.  How many is it safe to take during the course of one football game?

8:44 -- Jacksonville coach Jack Del Rio looks like the kind of guy who enjoys porn.  Oh, how about that?  He is.  And so, apparently, is McLovin.

8:50 -- Hey, speaking of coaches - has anybody ever mentioned that Steeler coach Mike Tomlin kinda looks like Omar Epps?

Game Two: Second Quarter

9:06 -- Daby says I'm not a true football fan and - it pains me greatly to say this - he may be right.  After an initial flurry of activity, game two of our double-header has settled in to what seems to be a good football game.  I don't like good football games- at least not when the Steelers are involved.  This reminds me of something Cappy said a few years back during the Eagles' four-year run of futility.  He opined - late in the season after a long winning streak - that he wanted the Eagles to lose a game to get it out of their system.  I countered with the opinion that that's a bullshit statement and that I want my team to go undefeated for the rest of time.  I stand by that opinion, and I'm feeling about the same right now.  I don't want a good game.  Good games are for the fans of the twenty teams that didn't make the playoffs.  I want the Steelers to destroy the Jaguars.

9:11 -- And now we don't even have a good game.  A Jags interception is returned for a touchdown to make this one 14-7 Jacksonville.  Seriously, I need a answer about these anxiety meds.  Rigsby?  Where are you?

9:15 -- Fuck!  Another interception.  I take it back.  I take it all back.  This wasn't a good game.  It isn't a good game.  I wasn't being arrogant, I swear.  There's no jinx!  No jinx!  No jinx!!

9:20 -- Maurice Jones-Drew did exactly jack-shit for my fantasy team all season and now he's having a career game.  You can go to hell, MJD.  Those of you who had 9:20 in the pool of when I would become seriously pissed off, it's your lucky day.  21-7, Jags.

9:23 -- Text message from Dabysan: "On the bright side MJD is on your fantasy team..."

9:33 -- It's a sad occasion for a football fan when a missed field goal by the other team becomes a cause for minor celebration.  Still 21-7, Jaguars.

9:45 -- And it stays that way going into the half.  I need to focus more on the game.  Updating during commercials has bled over on occasion into the game.  I need to regroup and make some adjustments.  I'm going to start drinking.  That ought to help those meds settle down.

Game Two: Third Quarter

10:06 -- I took a longer than necessary halftime break, just to show who- or whatever controls karma that I know that there are more important things - in the grand scheme - than this football game.  I turned back to the game in time to see a Steeler field goal sail throught the uprights, so it might be working.  I have appropriate perspective, I promise.  I remain hopeful that in the twenty-five remaining minute Pittsburgh can overcome an eleven point deficit.  I'm hopeful, that's all.  Not confident.  Certainly not cocky.  Just hopeful.  21-10, Jacksonville.

10:18 -- Another MJD touchdown.  My bottle of anxiety meds is empty, and there's still a six-pack in the fridge.  This can't be good.  28-10, Jaguars.

10:33 -- I get the stages of grief all kinds of confused.  I never bargain, and I go straight to acceptance.  Anger is pretty much a running theme with me, I never even see denial, and depression comes way way after the fact.  Even this Steeler touchdown doesn't cheer me up.  Pittsburgh is going to lose this game.  Call me, ladies - I'm a real catch.  28-17, Jags.

Game Two: Fourth Quarter

10:42 -- Linebacker James Harrison (aka Silverback) was voted MVP by Steeler players.  I've read a few journalists and bloggers stumping for Ben.  Tonight, I'm casting my vote with the team.  Harrison hasn't thrown three fucking interceptions.

10:54 -- I don't mean to seem like a sore loser here (or, hopefully, a sore winner) but Heath Miller was also on my fantasy team.  He posted a goose-egg in the championship game.  He's got eighty-five yards and, now, a touchdown tonight.  Those points would have come in handy a few weeks ago.  I might not have had to root for the Redskins.  Thanks, Heath.  Come on!!  Pittsburgh misses on the two-point conversion after a penalty.  28-23, Jaguars.

11:09 -- Ike Taylor is known among those of us who know more about the Steelers than our own families as the guy you can count on to drop the sure interception.  So that pick a few moments ago - only his fifth of the year - is almost certainly the biggest of his career.  And holy shit, what a cluster the last few plays have been.  The Steelers went for it on fourth-and-goal.  Missed.  Got a fortuitous face mask penalty.  Scored.  And missed on the two-point try.  But the momentum seems to have turned in their favor.  My mood is: restrained pleasure.  Not confidence.  Certainly not joy.  I am lukewarm.  I am vanilla.  29-28, Steelers.

11:26 -- I hate football.  Have I mentioned that lately?

10:42 -- All those nasty things Daby said earlier about Seattle, its teams, and its fans - that goes double for fucking Jacksonville.  There's never been a city less deserving of an NFL franchise.  Jacksonville isn't in a fly-over state but it fucking might as well be.  Does Minnesota have a football team?  Does anybody care?  Minnesota Jaguars has a nice ring to it.  Let's make this happen.  Meanwhile, I have to root for the fucking Patriots next week.  Goddamn.  Instant karma is gonna get you.  31-29, Jaguars.  And that's a final.  Fuck me gently with a chain saw.  Football blows.

Postgame

12:11 -- I just got off the phone with Daby and rest assured, we have this thing all figured out.  See, the official outcome of today's games is incredibly bad for the NFL.  The thing is: both the Redskins and the Steelers travel well and sell tons of tickets and merchandise.  And the teams in Spokane and, uh... where was the other one?  Jefferson City?  uh, don't.  So we're both confident that the results of today's games will be overturned.  It's only right.  The teams that generate the most money for the league should be the only teams permitted to continue into the post-season.  Who's going to tune in to New England/Johnstown next week?  No one, that's who.  I look forward to live-blogging Steelers/Patriots II.

The New England Patriots have been playing dumb (it's not hard, I know) for days, pretending they've never heard of a defensive starter on the team they're about to play.  I'm still not thrilled about the "guarantee" earlier this week, but if the Pats really have never heard of Anthony Smith (that's him above, leveling Bengals receiver T.J. Houshmandzadeh), like they claim, then the Steelers are in better shape than I thought, because it means they haven't studied any film of the league's number one defense.  I don't believe it, but I'd like to.

Game time is just about sixteen hours away.  Fortunately, I've been busy enough so far this weekend that I haven't had much time yet to dwell on the most important Steeler game since February 5, 2006.  I've got nothing going on, though, between now and game-time, and I doubt I can fill all those hours with blissful slumber.  I won't say I regret, per se, my bone-headed decision to watch the game with Dabysan, but, well.... no, actually I do regret it.  I think the only way I'm going to make it through is to indulge in the official drinking game.  The over/under on me passing out is set at twelve minutes into the third quarter.  I'm taking the under.  Daby's live-blog is gonna be fun!

[UPDATE:  It wasn't fun.  At all.]

Cap'n Crunch may not know anything about bulletin board material, but I do.  And THIS is bulletin board material.  To wit:  Steelers non-Polamalu safety Anthony Smith said today, ""We're going to win.  Yeah, I can guarantee a win."  Look, I know the Steelers are going to win too, but I would never actually say so to anyone who can, you know, publish my words in a forum where the New England Patriots could read them.  Other things I wouldn't say include: "I think we were facing great receivers last week too and we shut them down.  Those three guys, I don't think it gets much better than Cincinnati's corps of receivers.  We've already seen the best."  I mean, everyone who knows anything about football knows Smith is right that Chad Johnson, T.J. Houshmandzadeh, and Chris Henry are a better receiving corps than Randy Moss, Donte Stallworth, and Wes Welker [Editor's Note:  Cap'n Crunch - and probably Dabysan - believe Moss, Stallworth, and Welker are better than Johnson, Houshmandzadeh, and Henry.  Naturally.], but you don't actually SAY so.  Sheesh.

And as of this afternoon I have to watch the game on Sunday with Daby, who will be rooting for the Patriots out of spite because he's a go-tard who knows I know more about football than him.  Who would figure that sweet, sweet spite would one day come back to, uh, spite me?  I hate irony.