16 October 2006

This spinach ain't part of no recall

...DON'T CALL IT A COMEBACK.

Seriously don't, because that would be stupid and naive... it would, in fact, be stupidly naive.

Don't call the Steelers methodical, 45-7 shellacking of the reeling Kansas City Chiefs anything less than what it was: One of the NFL's proven elite teams reminding the rest of the league that they are still elite and have, to finish what the first line started, BEEN HERE FOR YEARS.

There are a couple of other things that you shouldn't do following yesterday's hella-awesome turn of events in the wicked-strong AFC North:

-Don't continue to talk about Ben Roethlisberger being anything less than a great quarterback. I don't want to hear anymore of this "he's just an average quarterback who has been surrounded by great teams his entire football life, so all he's ever had to do is manage the game" crap. Average quarterbacks don't respond to the pressure of (what amounts to) a must win game by putting up a 153.8 efficiency rating. They go all Jake the Snake on their team and wind up with a concussion. Nothing about what Ben has done in his career (save his first three starts of this season) has been average. He's a great quarterback, plain and simple, but he can't be expected to be perfect... not even Dan Rooney is perfect.

-Don't talk about this "super-bowl hangover" anymore. Sure, there is something to it, but guess what... and I know that some people don't want this to be true... it's over for the Steelers. They took a half bottle of Ibuprofen this past week and now they're back to their old selves. Last year, it took them until week 13 to get their wake up call. This year, they got it in week 6 and I have to say I'm giddy, real giddy... hell, I'm a thousand times giddy for the rest of they year.

Consider the Steelers' season like an episode of Popeye (Popeye plays the part of the Steelers): The teams on the Steelers' schedule are all the local drunks trying to score with Olive Oyl (represented by the Lombardi trophy).
Popeye steps in for the first couple of rounds and you see that he's human. He hits the first guy (Miami) but then the thugs gang up on him (Jacksonville, Cincy, San Diego) and he winds up seeing stars and birds circling around his head laying with broken pieces of barstool all around him.
He regains consciousness to the sound of Olive Oyl screaming for him and the thugs laughing about the little twerp who thought he was all that and a case of beer. Popeye starts to right himself and then somehow, someway, from somewhere a can of spinach makes an appearance (perhaps a Cowher speech about it being a new season?) and Popeye eats it with gusto.
Just when the bad guys think they're getting away, they hear Popeye say from behind them something like "Where do you guys think you're going?" And then he spits out a tooth (that would have been soooo awesome if Popeye ever did that). To this, one of the lesser thugs (Kansas City) responds with the perfunctory, "What? Baby want to play some more?" and walks over to meet Popeye at the center of the room. Popeye makes quick work out of him.
Wave after wave of drunk sailor, thugs try to beat up Popeye, but... well, you know the rest of the story. It ends with Popeye being the last man standing and Olive Oyl saying something to the effect of "Oh Popeye, you're the only man for me."

Ahhhhh. Bring on the next would-be-thug. The Steelers already ate their spinach.

No comments: