Patriots face karma, Jaguars sack everybody, fire Chuck Pagano
By John Buhler
We may not have learned anything big from Week 1 of the NFL season, but the New England Patriots ate some humble pie and Sacksonville is for dreamers.
NFL football is back and unless you cheer for a South Florida team, your favorite franchise either won or lost in Week 1. Thankfully, there were zero ties in Week 1. That would have been embarrassing, but not as bad as some of the dumb stuff we saw across the NFL this week.
While teams like the Dallas Cowboys and the Baltimore Ravens are feeling good all the time, you have to remember two things from those two teams’ wins from Week 1.
One, Without Odell Beckham Jr., there is no reason for fidget-spinning millennials to get off Instagram and watch the New York Football Giants play football. They’d rather stare at a wall than see Eli Manning be unathletic on national television ever again.
This is what happens when your chicken parm doesn’t taste so good (BAD CHICKEN!!!) and Brad Paisley is getting tired of being basically almost close doing jingle spots with Peyton. Everybody knows that Archie is the Bruce Dickinson of making gold records at Manning 18 Studios down in Oxford.
Two, “Playmakers on three” is about as inspiring of a pre-game speech Marvin Lewis would ever hope to have in a Bengals’ playoff game. He didn’t say it. That would be the Red Rifle Andy Dalton.
You know what else the Bengals didn’t do in Week 1? Score points. So why are they laying 6.5 points to the Houston “We have massive quarterback problems” Texans? Because they took a painful staycation in Sacksonville last week.
We’ll get to the place I’m thinking about getting once in a lifetime time share condo at in a bit, but what a clown show it was in Foxborough on Thursday night. No, it was not the Goodell shirts courtesy of Barstool’s El Presidente. It was New England that had a Super Bowl hangover worse than the Atlanta Falcons, and let’s begin there.
Karma Police arrested these Pats
With all those delicious points the Pats were laying to KC on Thursday Night Football, who outside of Arthur Bryant’s rib connoisseurs and Rob Riggle thought the Chiefs were gonna lay the smackdown on New England?
It’s been a week, but that Super Bowl banner celebration at Gillette Stadium was complete embarrassment. Do you think the Spurs or St. Louis Cardinals would pry Marky Mark away from Thursday night Karaoke with Ted to celebrate supreme excellence most braggadociously? The Hootie was cranking, somebody’s Heiney was crowding the icebox. Heck, even Sam Jones was there being a C-list version of Ric Flair. Woo! At least Marky Mark wore a shirt and didn’t shoot Jeter.
To be frank, that celebration was about as tasteless as that baby poster Oscar from The Office HATED. It was on par with that speech George Clooney made that one time. The smug cloud made it from the field and into the visitor’s locker room. It woke up the Kool-Aid Man Andy Reid and he was all “Oh, yeah!“.
KC made a delicious barbecue masterpiece than even former Pats nose tackle Vince Wilfork couldn’t not have passed up courtesy of Kingsford. New England will survive, as the Death Star is already under construction.
The Karma Police came to New England on Thursday night. There may have been more tears in Gillette Stadium than at a Radiohead concert. If Gronk was too busy not catching that touchdown pass from Brady got back, he may have dialed up the Foxboro Hot Tub Time Machine to tell Marky Mark he should just stayed rocking out to some Hootie with Ted.
Sacksonville: Home to our wildest football dreams
To win in Jacksonville is really hard. Essentially, you need to be either Tom Coughlin or Jack Del Rio of the St. John’s River. Doug Marrone is not one of those two guys, but he does have Coughlin in the building. With the dozens of Blake Bortles picks on the horizon for the Black and Teal, it’s massively important for Marrone to find his Happy place.
He may need to listen to the Doug and Carrie Song to get there, but he’ll get there. Where is there? There is a wonderful beach metropolis in somewhere in North Florida called Sacksonville. In Sacksonville, Bortles doesn’t throw interceptions. Calais Campbell Truly, Madly, Deeply gives it to Tom Savage Garden as the greatest pass rusher signing since Reggie White to the Packers. We’re going there because why wouldn’t you want to overreact from Week 1.
In Sacksonville, it’s cool to have a Tommy Tutone helmet. You may not have Jenny’s number, but you clearly have Tommy O’Brien’s. Campbell was so MMM MMM MMM MMM good that he sacked Crash Test Dummy Savage and an Elementary Joandeshaun Watson at least 8,675,309 times.
While only 14 people saw the game on CBS, it did actually happen because the NFL standings and NFL Game Pass says it did, so that’s all that matters. If the Jaguars do beat the Titans in Week 2, Sacksonville will be atop the dumpster AFC South standings for another week. This division may not be good, but, boy is it an interesting one.
Gotta give credit to the 49ers, even if they lost, too
Andrew Luck not only has a flip phone, but is the best deodorant football money can buy. Without him, the Colts are Nothing…Nothing! Indianapolis is essentially Mugatu’s Derelicte campaign without the Zoolander Luck, who’s clearly spending time at a day spa for a week D-A-I-Y-E, DAIYE.
So the Colts Went To Hollywood. Did they Relax? Maybe, as they got steamrolled by the St. Louis Los Angeles Rams a bazillion to nothing or something like that. It was so bad that Chuck Pagano forgot what rebuilding NFC West team beat the tar out of his Colts.
Yes, it was the blonde kid that doesn’t know where the sun goes‘ team that’s coached by Wade Phillips’ grandson or something. While the San Francisco 49ers appreciate the comment, it wasn’t like Kyle Shanahan struck gold in Santa Clara either. The Carolina Panthers went all Cam Newton Superman on them, so, yeah, the 49ers lost, too.
Scott Tolzien is not the Allen Iverson Answer for the Colts’ quarterbacking woes sans Luck. Obi-wan Jacoby Brissett cannot be the Colts’ only hope as their Luck wants to run out of the building.
ICYMI: the 2017 Colts remind us a lot of the 2011 Colts. The only difference is Kurt Cobain stand-in Curtis Painter isn’t under center. While it’s debatable if Luck Smells Like Teen Spirit, what’s not is how bad the Colts stank.
Might as well kick it? Then again, don’t
When The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air said he might as well kick it in the intro of that unforgettable 90s sitcom, no, Mike Mularkey, Big Willie Style did not mean attempt an onside kick to start the 2017 NFL season.
Instead, Mularkey decided to Get Jiggy Wit It. He must have told somebody on the Titans sideline “See me on the 50-yard line with the Raiders.” That was a bad idea like Ron Burgundy choosing milk on a hot summer day or thinking people would spend Christmas Day 2015 at the Regal Cinema 5 Megaplex wanting to learn about concussions.
You didn’t have to suck up to Succop to Kick Out the Jams in this game. Shoulda told him to Carlton ’cause it’s not unusual to do that on an opening kickoff or whatever. That might have worked. If you love field goals, well, this game had seven of them and the all went through the uprights.
To put it bluntly, that was the worst kickoff attempt since Sean McVay’s maybe grandad went through that Music City Miracle in ’99. Do you still have your favorite box of Flutie Flakes in your cupboard? Well, Jeff Fisher still has that mustache and I still Believe in Miracles because I believe in a better world for me and you.
7-9 BS: So sorry, it’s over, Adrian Peterson
When you don’t get that you don’t get it, well, you just don’t get it. After 10 Pro Football Hall of Fame years with the Minnesota Vikings, it was time to say goodbye to Adrian Peterson in Minneapolis.
He didn’t Take It Easy like the late Glenn Frey told us to, so he went to The Big Easy to try to rush for 2,000 yards in 2017. Too bad Sean Payton hates to run the ball about as much as he hates to play defense in NOLA. After only getting to carry the ball NINE times in Minneapolis, the Bell Tolled on Peterson’s productive NFL career.
So sorry, it’s over. You don’t have to go all Man Overboard. Just because you’re in the Twin Cities doesn’t mean you have GO Crazy. Prince is not walking through that door with a delicious pile of flapjacks in the best man blouse money can buy.
With Fisher probably fishing in Montana, 7-9 BS now resides in the Crescent City. The Saints have pulled off the trifecta, but can they win the Grand Slam like Nadal or Sloane Stephens? While I remember AD running through the wet grass, he has fallen a step behind.
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Though he’s desperately wanting more touches, you gotta save the King of New Orleans by ensure Drew Brees will throw for 5,000 yards. So how does one become the epitome of 7-9 BS? It’s really easy. The Answer is Friction, Baby.