KANSAS CITY, KS – The one game, loser go home American League Wild Card Game ended early Wednesday morning with the Kansas City Royals winning in 12 innings over the Oakland A’s. The game ended a few minutes before 1:00AM EST. Given that FSA had had root canal surgery that afternoon, the painkillers and screaming wife and kids were enough to coax a late afternoon nap. It was glorious. The value of a good afternoon nap cannot be overstated. You wake up refreshed-in a good mood even. Almost as though you haven’t yet had your spirit broken by decades of disappointment and the torment of self loathing. Naps are the 2000 teens version of Mommy’s/Daddy’s Little Helpers.
Since Tuesday afternoon was highlighted by a joyous nap, it wasn’t nearly the chore I had anticipated it would be to stay awake and watch the entire Wild Card game. It’s been years since FSA has been awake past 9:30 in the evening. You try and try but the bliss of sleep is just too damned attractive to resist. Monday Night Football is a fantasy as far as I’m concerned. Who the hell is staying awake to watch the entire game these days? Clearly the prime time slate of NFL games this season is cursed. The Falcons humiliated the Bucs, the Giants annihilated the Redskins (yeah, I said it) and just this past Monday-the battle between the high octane Belichicks and the Chiefs made fly over country the envy of the coast-centric populace. At least for 48 hours. The Pats got shellacked in every phase of the game, and there was much rejoicing all over the world. (Or at least in Jersey, Orchard Park, and Davie, FL)
Speaking of those Belichicks, the New England Patriots haven’t looked this bad, this over matched since Victor Kiam liked the product so much, he bought the company. Since Irving Fryar was cutting through defenses with the precision of a butter knife. Tom Brady got up in front of the phalanx of microphones and the usual sycophant press and at least gave a few cogent statements in his attempt to explain how he had somehow just turned into Tony Eason. At least Mr. Perfect spoke in a clear, human voice.
The same cannot be said of his Troglodyte Coach. We spent the past 3 months talking about the failure of leadership on display from the NFL and the character-challenged Roger Goodell. The list of transgressions emanating from Park Avenue HQ became so long, that somehow the “Belichick” problem was pushed to the background for a while. But a league with an image problem, a league so tone deaf and disconnected in its arrogance has yet one more black eye. His name is Bill Belichick and he’s a disgrace to the league.
Let’s drop the whole genius in a hoodie nonsense. His teams have won a lot of regular season games in a terribly non-competitive division for years. It’s been 11 years since their last Super Bowl championship. In between, the Pats led by Belichick and the seeming gentlemanly owner Bob Kraft have presided over the league’s renegade franchise. Yes, the “Patriot Way“-often used as a case study in graduate classes in Management, is total and utter bull-spit. Where should we start? How about Spygate? How about Aaron Hernandez? How about the fact that the NFL allows Belichick to show up at press conferences and act like like a jackass-a condescending bully. Isn’t the Press supposed to the conduit to the fans? Aren’t fans entitled to hear about their teams? Don’t the fans pay enormous sums to sit in terrible seats for $200 bucks a pop? Isn’t the NFL a marketing and entertainment vehicle that is beholden to its sponsors and fans?
Then why the hell is Belichick allowed/enabled to come out week after week and mumble incoherently to each and every question he’s asked? Why does Belichick get to roll his eyes and sigh at every softball question he’s lobbed? He’s a creep. And he’s representing the same league that’s given us the worst people imaginable to try and reconcile. He’s no longer a champion. He’s no longer that wacky genius in a hoodie. The man’s a disgrace and one more problem for Goodell and his minions to finally euthanize.
Come back tomorrow for a man who ONLY wears a hoodie, Different Matt.