by West Coast Craig
MIAMI, FL — As The Matts so graciously pointed out last week, it takes a real man of courage and conviction to report for duty on Holy Hangover Monday… and while I’m neither, The Matts would beat me something terrible if I didn’t cobble together something here for you.
By now you’ve seen multiple highlight packages, heard the punditry pontificate, read the recaps, and flipped through the various sites looking for some way to put the Big Game in perspective. So, with a photo-shopped movie poster and a catchy title, I’m going to add my bit of noise to the din. Get out your Craig’s Anatomy Textbook, and let’s review:
One Foot: The distance that the Colts were short of a first down with 46 seconds left in the first half… Or the distance that represents all it takes for momentum to completely halt and start rolling the other way.
The Ankle: Connected to the foot by ligaments, and when you tear them it really hurts. Dwight Freeney cares not about a little debilitating pain, though, especially when he has some Freeney’s little helpers to get him in the game (and make the only sack for either side).
The Leg: Must belong to Garrett Hartley, the 23-year old Saints kicker. These 2010 playoffs seem to have had more shanks than a Folsom Prison riot, yet this kid keeps stepping up and drilling them straight through the uprights. Three forty-plus yard field goals yesterday… While across the field old man Matt Stover hooked his long shot, failing to increase the Colts’ lead at a crucial moment, and adding yet another kicker-related anger line to Peyton Manning’s forehead.
The Groin: Unlike Hans Moleman’s classic film, there was unfortunately no Football In The Groin in this game. Instead, there was an inordinate amount of Super Bowl commercials involving men in their underwear?
Guts & Groin of a Great Saint [Dane]
The Guts: Sean Payton gets the call here, for calling that on-sides kick to open the second half. How often do you see a game like this, where a team goes into desperation mode so early (going for it on fourth and goal, then calling a surprise on-side kick) and they may bloody the nose of their opponent but almost always they get buried in the end? Don’t you get the feeling that if these two teams played ten times the Colts would win eight or nine? Payton did everything he could to make sure this was that tenth version.
The Arms: A lesser anatomist would point to the pass-happy offenses and the record number of throws this Super Bowl, but not me. Instead, I want to point out that arm tackles, in a Super Bowl, are a terrible thing… and it always happens like this, a lot of rust accumulates in those two weeks every year, and suddenly nobody knows how to wrap anyone up.
The Throat: The bespectacled Roger Daltry has to save himself for the big scream these days, lest his vocal chords explode.
Head: This, the last word, has to belong to Tracy Porter, who not only made the quickest thinking, smartest play of the night by jumping that slant, he suddenly turned into a field general, pointing his blockers in front of him, directing them to completely clip Peyton Manning and smash him to the turf as he sprinted past. That was all well and good, but the real reason he represents the Head is because he shaved a Lombardi Trophy into his before the game. If they lost, he’d have had to shave the whole thing… Though that could lead to a Matts’ correspondent role.
A good, weird game, eh? Not many penalties, only one sack, four punts, the clock kept running despite the eighty-four passes thrown, and despite the eternity of TV timeouts and that halftime, it was still over in three and a half hours. Congratulations, New Orleans… You’re all hard at work today, right?
