Long Gone Dad

After a long weekend away from the computer, I had planned to write today about a number of engaging topics that the whole nation is buzzing about––including the ongoing search for the next HC of the DC (that's head coach of the Dallas Cowboys in Belichick-speak); the latest manifestations of President Bush's deeply disturbing delusional behavior; the latest brutal cold stretch here in NYC; some recent celebrity passings (or in our case former or pseudo-celebrity passings: Yvonne DeCarlo, Ron Carey, Sneaky Pete Kleinow, E. Howard Hunt); saving the black rhino from extinction––you know, the usual brilliant forays into the cultural Zeitgeist you've come to expect here. But all that is going to have to wait for another time & another place, because when I looked at the calendar I realized that January 30 is the day my dad died, eight years ago already (next month, February 20, will make it three years since mom passed on).

I must say that life without your mom & dad, especially around the holidays, is like being in a play with no audience; you have no choice but to grow a little closer to your fellow actors onstage––in this case my older brother & sister and close friends. So I dedicate this post to my dad--the highest honor a blogger can bestow on the deceased...

Actually, I've been a little disingenuous here right from the start. I've been planning a post about what I've come to call the worst day of my life so far––the night my dad died in the NYU Medical Center on 34th & 2nd. To be accurate, my dad technically died on January 30, 1999, but his heart stopped beating late in the evening of the 29th, and he was kept alive on respirator for hours & hours into the early morning of the 30th.

Friday, January 29 was the night of the big Lucinda Williams show at Irving Plaza. We were all looking forward to it, and you have to remember she was touring off her absolute masterpiece, Car Wheels On A Gravel Road––the best album of her career and one of the best of anyone's career––which had just been released a few months before; that is not an exaggeration of any kind, just a critical fact. If I remember, we had a whole gaggle of people attending that night: me & Tony & Kathy & Nadine & Steve & John; we all went out for dinner & drinks beforehand ... and Irving Plaza was as packed as it's ever been.

I was enjoying myself because it had been a long, tough year for our family. My father was just coming off triple bypass heart surgery, and had literally been at NYU Medical since April of the year before. My mom herself was ailing with her own heart troubles, and my dad's condition was putting a strain on all of us. Then a few weeks before, just when things were looking up for dad, he was diagnosed with leukemia and the doctors of course were not at all optimistic about his chances.

The night before I had visited dad at the hospital and he was in very good spirits, although physically he was winding down like a shopworn old clock, even though he was only in his mid-60s at the time. My mom was staying over with him most nights in a section of NYU that was like a hotel room. It was up to me to coordinate the family visits to his room (which wasn't always easy in the days before cell phones became ubiquitous, and I wanted to make sure that he had a visitor coming to see him every single night. My sister lived on Long Island and thus could only come to visit him on weekends and maybe one night during the week; my brother's relationship with dad was somewhat, oh, call it estranged, and thus he was uncomfortable spending swaths of time alone with him. So I ended up spending a lot of nights at the hospital, taking the M15 bus uptown from my office down on Wall Street, then taking two more buses to get home. But I didn't mind the sacrifice in any way, just noting here that it was a draining, numbing time in my life.

So I was looking forward to blowing off some steam and enjoying a great concert with some good friends. Me and Tony, as we always do at concerts, managed to somehow squeeze our way as close to the stage as humanly possible, even if that meant pissing off a bunch of tightly packed people close to the stage. They just don't appreciate a timeless ritual when they see one.

I knew my sister & brother-in-law were going to the hospital that night, and me & my brother would cover the rest of the weekend, but by the time I got home that night, exhausted & sleepless at around 4 or 5 in the morning, my answering machine was blinking neurotically, with around 6 red beeps indicating 6 new messages. That didn't seem normal. When I played them back, it turned out to be 6 messages from my sister––her frantic tone escalating in urgency with each new message I played back––telling me that Dad was in really bad shape,that he might not make it this time...

I'll be totally honest here: At first I thought I could ignore the messages and say I never got them, the machine was broken, human nature being what it is; I thought there was nothing that was gonna keep my head from hitting the pillow and attaining blissful torpidity. After all, I said to myself, was it really an emergency? But I couldn't ignore my sister's words ringing in my head, telling me that our father was dying. So I called my brother and we made plans to meet on 74th & Ditmars Blvd. and take a cab to the hospital. But of course there were no cabs to be had at that ungodly hour––Murphy's Law being as popular as it is for a reason––and so we walked the 20 or so freezing blocks to the train and a miserable hour later we were at the hospital.

The scene upstairs in the intensive care unit would have been heart-rending even if it involved a family of total strangers. But to see the people who were closest to me suffering so openly is an image forever seared into my memory banks. All we could do was comfort each other as we talked among ourselves and with whatever doctors & nurses we could find about dad's chances and whether we should remove the respirator. We all instinctively knew that if things went on much longer, we might lose not only Dad but also Mom, because she was just not gonna be able to take much more agony; she'd been through enough the last few years, and this night was the disastrous culmination we'd all been expecting, if we were honest with ourselves.

So we said our last tearful goodbyes to the man who brought us into this world. A priest showed up to deliver the last rites, and then we led Mom from the room. There were all kinds of arrangements to be made, with no rest for the weary on the horizon for a long, long time.

A few weeks before, Dad was out of the hospital for a rare weekend at home, and I came over to watch some football with him. We always enjoyed watching sports together; like many fathers and sons, we had our differences, but as long as we stayed away from political flash points we were usually okay together. He was a Cleveland Browns fan, having spend his summers in Ohio as a young man, and of course I was/am a Dallas Cowboys fanatic, but we really got into rooting for the New York Jets, led by Bill Parcells at the time, against the Denver Broncos. That was the AFC Championship game where the Jets almost upset Denver, leading 10-0 at halftime, but then John Elway got hot and carried the Broncos into the Super Bowl, which my dad never got to see.

But 1998 was also the year when our beloved New York Yankees won 116 regular season games to set a record and then went on to win their third consecutive World Series. Nobody on the planet had a better time following them than my dad did that year. Every time I came over after work or for Sunday dinner, we would talk baseball and it was always Derek Jeter this and Paul O'Neill that. It made his last year a little more bearable. Whenever people foolishly, naively bring up the meaningless nature of pro sports, I remember how the Yankee games that year went a long way toward diverting his mind from more sobering matters. Baseball wasn't a trivial matter for him. Not that year.

A Work Week In The Life

"I live off you
And you live off me
And the whole world
Lives off of everyone,
See we gotta be exploited..."
I Live Off You
X-Ray Spex

After a slow first hour, it's been a veritable beehive of activity here at LT this morning, with A. bringing all sorts of company stationery, letterheads, business cards and even some print ads over to my desk for me to look over and sign off on. I caught a wrong zip code on one set; the Chicago zip was on something for the Birmingham, Michigan office. Also caught a name misspelled on a business card. Nobody slips stuff like that past me. Nobody.

It's been a fairly busy week, except for yesterday when I had off. But I used my time wisely and ran a ton of what you earthlings commonly call errands -- coming into Manhattan to pick up my paycheck from A., getting a haircut back in Astoria, doing a much-needed laundry, checking a few movies out of the library, etc. But I would prefer to work every single day for obvious reasons. I did get to fill in a blank, so to speak, on Monday at CB on the Upper West for a one-day project going over the galleys for a new edition of their bestselling Study Guides––quite a hit with the college-bound crowd. And of course I was able to catch some errors that no doubt pleased C.D., my supervisor/contact there. That was about the 5th or 6th time I've been there in my less than one full year of freelancing, for a total of about 10 or 15 days working on the different projects. So it's good to be called back for repeat business.

One client––S. Comm down on Varick Street––had not called in a few months, but K. at A., my freelance agency on West 20th, called me yesterday to tell me they asked if I would be available today, Thursday, but obviously I'm here at LT. My timing is such that I'm either needed in two places at once or nowhere at all! So I asked K. to see if S. can use me Friday, tomorrow. If not, at least they're still asking for me, which means I'm still in the loop. S. happens to be my favorite place among the 4 or 5 places where I've worked, full of hip/young/good-looking people -- three sought-after metrics to which I no longer belong or indeed even qualify. So it goes.

It's funny, or ironic, or something, but when I was back at Le Transcript, I would hate/dread when ex-employees would come back to visit the office like some kind of conquering heroes. It always made me feel ... unadventurous somehow; whatever else could be said, at least these people had left the nest, whether pushed out or otherwise. Sometimes I felt like an Office Lifer, stuck in neutral or limbo, even after the promotion to Managing Editor. The life of a freelancer is essentially the polar opposite of that stasis, with its good and bad points depending on what day you catch me on.

Still waiting to hear good things back from a company I took a proofreading test for last week. I can't imagine anyone doing better on the test than I did, all modesty aside, because I have a metric tonne of confidence in all matters proofing and my perspicuity therein. If not me, who? And I have a few other things in the hopper that should start kicking in at the beginning of next month. But I digest.

A week ago Thursday I had my last catering gig. I worked a full shift at LT here on West 49th, then shot over to the Upper East for the Old Boys Dinner at St. Bernard's School, where among my duties that night included manning the coat check room. That event marked my one-year mark as a caterer. Once I got my own room set up, I unselfishly set up the classroom next door for the other coat checker, Bernice. A few hours later, with everyone's coat on a hanger and their tickets in hand, I went upstairs to the gym and helped bus some tables, served food at the buffet table, etc., demonstrating my versatility. Then I returned to my coat check franchise, waiting for the 100 or so guests to finish their dinner and hightail it out of there.

Following the lead of Bernice, the old black woman who used to work at the school and now evidently returns only for this very event and the lucrative gratuities she receives for working the coat check, I put out a small wicker basket and placed a single dollar bill inside. That was enough to set the mood and lo & behold, I watched the bills pile up––a lot of singles, a few fives, and even one generous dude who hit me with a twenty-spot. Sweet! It was funny: he put a Jackson in the basket and asked if I had change; whatever's in there, I answered, and then he decided to just let me keep it. I couldn't believe it, and overheard him telling his fellow Old Boys that he just gave the coat check guy a 20. I would have done the same thing: why give to charity unless you get to blow your own horn a little.

It was a little past 11 when the last of my hangers was empty. A long day, and I had to be back at LT early the next morning, but when I counted up my tips I was surprised to find I had made 86 bucks, not even counting my salary for the night. I had like 50 or 60 bucks in singles alone, which made me feel like I was either heading to a strip club or had just worked at one, and you know, I could get used to that feeling. By the time I reached Ditmars Blvd. with a fellow caterer from Astoria, it was well past midnight, and once home I had a lot of trouble just falling asleep––repeatedly imploring Hypnos, the Greek god of sleep, to descend upon me (in as non-gay a manner as possible; not that there's anything wrong with that), but to no immediate avail; at least until around 3, when I dozed off fitfully until the clock radio rudely roused me at 7. A couple hits of the snooze bar later, I was up and ready, if not all that bright-eyed.

"In art, Hypnos was portrayed as a naked youthful man, sometimes with a beard, and wings attached to his head. He is sometimes shown as a man asleep on a bed of feathers with black curtains about him."

Looks like old Hypnos was indeed quite the deviant, even by Greek god standards.

Tuesday Morning Quarterback –– Parcells Retirement Edition

Monday, in what came as a surprise if not a shock to many, Dallas Cowboys head coach Bill Parcells announced he was hanging up his headset. Now Jerry Jones and the Cowboys must find the seventh head coach in franchise history to replace one of the legendary figures of all time, one Duane Charles Parcells. No, he didn't take Dallas back to the promised land, but when you consider where the talent level was versus where it is, only the most spoiled Cowboys fans would deny Parcells left the team in better shape than he found it.

In 2003 Parcells took over an underachieving team that had gone 5-11 in three consecutive seasons under Dave Campo. In four years under Parcells the Cowboys went 34-30, with two playoff appearances. Most observers thought that he would return for a fifth season in an attempt to erase the bitter 1-point loss to Seattle from his memory. But apparently few saw how the devastating defeat instead convinced him that the trade-off between relief at winning a football game and the heartache accompanying a loss was no longer worth it.

The Terrell Owens factor may have played some small part, if any, in Parcells' ultimate decision, but the contract extension/raise he was seeking from an unwilling Jones undoubtedly was the principal element in his decision not to return. Jones was already doling out $5 mil plus a year and saw no reason to dig deeper into his pockets. And as much as Jones grew to admire Parcells the person during his tenure in Big D, he wasn't getting the return on investment he thought he'd be enjoying this far down the line. From all indications, it also appeared the 65-year-old future Hall of Fame lock just couldn't summon the necessary gusto to return for another grueling season.

Considering that Parcells took four separate teams to the playoffs –– and how all four franchises he took over were in a totally moribund state when he arrived: the early 1980s Giants, early 1990s Patriots, late 1990s Jets & 2003 Cowboys –– it cannot be overstated how successful his way of coaching proved to be. For that reason, I rank Parcells third best modern coach in NFL history -- right behind Vince Lombardi and Tom Landry -- and just above Don Shula, Bill Walsh, Bill Belichick and Chuck Noll.

As a diehard Cowboys fan, I feel fortunate that one of the greatest coaching legends of all time came to Dallas and gave it a shot. Others, including one notable columnist who calls the Parcells era in Dallas a failed experiment, don't quite see it that way. But I wish him only the best in his retirement, and wanted him to come back for one more year, one more draft, one more time going to battle with his troops, one more chance to go out on top. Bill Parcells belongs to history now, and the league will never see his likes again stalking the sidelines. I think his near-term legacy could be young Tony Romo, the raw, untested QB he saw something in and slowly groomed for the starting job. If Romo goes on to a stellar career, then he and Parcells would be forever linked –– with Parcells' name coming up in future conversation every time someone mentions Romo's humble roots as a free agent nobody.

Dallas has enjoyed some of the greatest coaches in NFL history, from Tom Landry to Jimmy Johnson and now Parcells; heck, even Barry Switzer won a Super Bowl, and his coaching aptitude has always been questioned, but he was undeniably one of the greatest motivators to ever fire off a pregame speech, and his Oklahoma teams of the '70s and '80s stand with some of the best college squads of all time.

I think Jerry needs to make a decision very soon, as Dallas is now the only team without a head coach. A year earlier we could have turned things over to Sean Payton, but there's no one presently on the coaching staff who merits such a promotion; thankfully Mike Zimmer was just scooped up by Atlanta, otherwise Jerry –– loyal to a fault –– in all likelihood would have rewarded Zimmer like he did Campo with a position over his head. The names I've heard thrown out on talk radio run the gamut from Norv Turner and Pete Carroll to recycled coaches like Dan Reeves, Wade Phillips, and Jim Fassell. My brother and I both agree that the best choice would be Oklahoma's Bob Stoops, a young, energetic, creative coaching mind who has done nothing but win, even when his talent level was subpar. There's really not a long list of candidates at this point.

ESPN mentioned this morning that Bears' coach Lovie Smith grew up in Texas as a big Cowboys fan. The NFL's lowest-paid coach, he's under contract for one more year, but stranger things have happened and Jones reportedly thinks the world of him. What's not to like? Smith comes off as a classy, dignified, straight-shooting guy whose players would run through the proverbial brick wall for him. More than ever, it's a young man's game, and teams are looking for the next Eric Mangini or Sean Payton; we just saw Pittsburgh hire a relatively unknown 34-year-old as head coach, and Oakland topped that by tapping a completely unknown 31-year-old. Let's hope Jones chooses more wisely than Al Davis and selects a sufficiently post-pubescent successor to Parcells.
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I no longer wager or make book or gamble or have anything to do with the business end of a point spread, but for the first time in recent memory both teams I was rooting for on Sunday –– Chicago's Bears and Indianapolis nee Baltimore's Colts –– advanced to the Super Bowl, setting up an old-NFL matchup. And now I'm coming out early for a Bears' win –– already sick to death of hearing about the AFC's supposed supremacy.

Brother Gatt will verify that I picked both winners on my Saturday morning call to him outlining my reasons for choosing the Bears and Colts. I was sick of hearing about the Saints, as I'm sure the Bears were by 1:00 Sunday; and like most football fans other than those in the New England area, I was now rooting against Bill Belichick and the Patriots. Belichick's bizarre postgame behavior this year endeared him to no one, to understate it mildly, and even cast a black eye on the entire league. Whether it was his snubbing of long-time disciple Eric Mangini, pushing a cameraman out of the way after the Jets' playoff game, the LaDainian Tomlinson quote after the Patriots beat San Diego, or last week's weird midfield exchange with Peyton Manning and his sullen slash maudlin press conference following the loss to the Colts, the man's personality leaves a lot to be desired. It seems as great a coach he is, that's how lacking he is in people skills. He may now have a more sparkling resume than his mentor Parcells, but his impact on the players he coached along the way will never approach the hold that the elder Bill has always had on those he touched over the years.

Even though technically the Patriots-Colts contest was the more anticipated of the two championship games, I enjoyed seeing the much-hyped New Orleans Saints getting a much-needed beatdown in snowy Windy City. Of course I didn't have to play in that slippery slop or sit in the freezing stands, but that was what playoff football should look like –– muddy & dirty & cold & bloody –– as opposed to the elements-free, antiseptic interior of a domed stadium.
I jotted down this note even BEFORE Reggie Bush's 88-yard TD catch where he classlessly taunted, somersaulted and shimmied his way into the end zone, but I gotta admit I love seeing Bush taking big hits like the vicious one he absorbed the week before against Philly's Sheldon Brown. I may be in the minority here, but I think Bush is an overrated, over-commercialized, glorified scatback. After the game, the Bears credited the rookie's disrespectful gyrations with firing up the entire team on the sidelines –– and of course those were the last points the Saints scored in the 39-14 bludgeoning.

I like how Fox used some American Idol no-name to sing the national anthem. I mean, it wasn't even one of the totally manufactured "winners" but then that's typical Fox class on display ... Yesterday Cincinnati Bengals CB Jonathan Joseph was charged with marijuana possession in Kentucky, making him the 9th such Bengal arrested in under a year. Just think, if another two Bengals run into trouble with the law –– and let's face it, the odds that NO Bengals get arrested before next year would be prohibitive –– then a quarter of the entire team, and half the starting 22, would have criminal records. If we need another sequel to The Longest Yard, I have a pretty good idea what the uniforms would like ... Michael Vick also does not disappoint. Whether it's passing on sexually transmitted diseases to unsuspecting sexual partners, coming up with an alias to undergo treatment for herpes, flashing the dirty bird to booing Falcons fans, or his latest escapade -- trying to get past airport security carrying a water bottle with a hidden chamber that may or may not have contained reefer -- it's never dull covering #7 on or off the field. And remember, Michael is the "good" Vick; his younger brother Marcus has had numerous/continuous brushes with the law, as it's euphemistically called, ranging from sexual battery to fraud and firearms charges. It seems the young man is still "finding himself."

"We Thank Our Blessings"

Jacob Weisberg of Slate –– perhaps the best written, most readable general interest/political/pop culture/news site on the Net –– has been collecting the verbal dementia of George W. Bush under the heading of Bushisms for years now –– chronicling the president's "gift" for somehow always managing to present his ideas via the most befuddled, clueless, simple-minded use of language skills since our primordial ancestors first ventured beyond the grunting stage in an attempt to communicate with each other. Here then are some of the Great Decider's most egregious breaches of articulation, striking examples of tortured syntax, and fanciful flights of the illogical. It's nothing less than one man's non-stop campaign dedicated to tirelessly butchering and mangling our Mother Tongue. Even his most ardent detractors can't deny that this truly will be his uncontested legacy. Enjoy.

"I think anytime you murder someone, you're a criminal."--Amman, Jordan, November 20, 2006

"One has a stronger hand when there's more people playing your same cards."—Washington, D.C., Oct. 11, 2006

"We shouldn't fear a world that is more interacted."—Washington, D.C., June 27, 2006

"You took an oath to defend our flag and our freedom, and you kept that oath underseas and under fire."—Addressing war veterans, Washington, D.C., Jan. 10, 2006

"Those who enter the country illegally violate the law." —Tucson, Ariz., Nov. 28, 2005

"The best place for the facts to be done is by somebody who's spending time investigating it."—Washington D.C., July 18, 2005

"I'm looking forward to a good night's sleep on the soil of a friend."—On the prospect of visiting Denmark, Washington D.C., June 29, 2005

"It's in our country's interests to find those who would do harm to us and get them out of harm's way."—Washington, D.C., April 28, 2005

"It's a time of sorrow and sadness when we lose a loss of life."—Washington, D.C., Dec. 21, 2004
"Too many good docs are getting out of the business. Too many OB/GYN's aren't able to practice their love with women all across the country."—Sept. 6, 2004, Poplar Bluff, Mo.

"I'm honored to shake the hand of a brave Iraqi citizen who had his hand cut off by Saddam Hussein."—Washington, D.C., May 25, 2004

"God loves you, and I love you. And you can count on both of us as a powerful message that people who wonder about their future can hear."—Los Angeles, Calif., March 3, 2004

"My views are one that speaks to freedom."—Washington, D.C., Jan. 29, 2004

"Security is the essential roadblock to achieving the road map to peace."—Washington, D.C., July 25, 2003

"One year ago today, the time for excuse-making has come to an end."—Washington, D.C., Jan. 8, 2003

"It would be a mistake for the United States Senate to allow any kind of human cloning to come out of that chamber."—Washington, D.C., April 10, 2002


"Our nation must come together to unite."—Tampa, Fla., June 4, 2001

"It's your money. You paid for it."—LaCrosse, Wis., Oct. 18, 2000

"Families is where our nation finds hope, where wings take dream."—LaCrosse, Wis., Oct. 18, 2000

"A tax cut is really one of the anecdotes to coming out of an economic illness."—The Edge With Paula Zahn, Sept. 18, 2000

"We don't believe in planners and deciders making the decisions on behalf of Americans."—Scranton, Pa., Sept. 6, 2000

"We cannot let terrorists and rogue nations hold this nation hostile or hold our allies hostile."

"I think we agree, the past is over."—On his meeting with John McCain, Dallas Morning News, May 10, 2000

Most Favored Quotation Status

"They drink with impunity, or anybody who invites them."
-- Artemus Ward

"In analyzing history, do not be too profound, for often the causes are quite superficial."
-- Emerson

"I honestly believe it iz better tew know nothing than tew know what ain't so." -- Josh Billings


"I would rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself than be crowded on a velvet cushion." -- Thoreau

"humanity i love you because when you're hard up you pawn your intelligence to buy a drink."
E.E. Cummings


"In times of universal deceit, telling the truth will be a revolutionary act." -- George Orwell

"It is dangerous to be right when the government is wrong." -- Voltaire

"Re-examine all you have been told; dismiss what insults your Soul." -- Walt Whitman

"Where you have a concentration of power in a few hands, all too frequently men with the mentality of gangsters get control." -- Lord Acton

"The terrorist is the one with the small bomb." --Brendan Behan













For more great political quotations, click here

For more quotations than you can shake a proverbial stick at, there's something called The Quotations Page that lists thousands of quotes by subject and author. If, like me, you believe that a well-placed quotation can change the world, then prepare to be changed.

Tuesday Morning Quarterback

So far every NFC playoff game has been decided by the margin of a field goal or less -- Seattle 21, Dallas 20; Philly 23, Giants 20; New Orleans 27, Philly 24; Chicago 27, Seattle 24 -- and in the AFC, the FG has also reigned supreme. That's all you got was field goals in the Indy-Baltimore game won by the Colts 15-6, and it was two 3-balls -- one made, one missed -- that of course decided the 24-21 New England win over San Diego.

The point is that I got to see a lot of snaps, holds & boots, with nary a mishandle or botch among them. One thing I was dead wrong about was that Tony Romo's holding style of using his left hand to spot the ball is somehow unique; no, it turns out that the standard methodology is to use the left hand, which of course is closer to the kicker when he makes contact with the ball. I found it weird that holders are being asked to use their off-hand, if you will; I thought it leaves more room for error.

One thing I would do next year is take Tony Romo off all holds on FGs and extra points and instead give those duties to the backup QB or punter. Another high profile muff would have the wolves out in force. Better to quietly make the switch in training camp.

I thought the QB play over the weekend was borderline putrid in a lot of cases, with a virtual pick parade interrupting any semblance of quality passing games. And I also couldn't help thinking that it's really all about perception when it comes to who gets pilloried based on which set of statistics. In other words, if it was anyone else but Steve McNair or the sainted Tom Brady putting up the kinds of numbers they did, out would come the knives, ready to cut into these QBs' prestigious postseason reputations. But even with the elevated importance of the kicking game in the postseason, more often than not a team's fortunes ride on a QB's play, for better or often worse. All told, in the eight playoff games, QBs have thrown 19 INTs against only 17 TDs.

Take the two-game stat line of Peyton Manning -- take it as in here, I don't want it, you take it. The completion percentage doesn't look all that bad, with 45 completions in 68 attempts, but for only 438 total yards -- a meager 6.4 yards per attempt. Where it really gets ugly is the 5 interceptions and only 1 TD, which gets you a 58.3 on the all-important QB passer meter.

Tom Brady struggled against the Chargers' pressure defense, throwing 3 picks and going only 27-51 for 280 yards, good for only a 57.6 QB rating. In the same game, first-year starter Philip Rivers went only 14-32, for 230 yards, a pick and no TDs, earning him a 55.5 rating. Baltimore's Steve McNair seemed to play even worse than his rather pedestrian 18-29, 173-yard day would indicate. He seemed to play with no fire and his 2 INTs were costly in a tight game, and his 49.9 number was well-deserved.

My regular, perceptive readers are probably already beginning to ascertain where I'm going with all this. When you look at the less-than-inspiring play at the QB position in this year's playoffs, suddenly young Tony Romo doesn't look all that bad in comparison. Let's look at a few more stat lines, as we call 'em in the bizniss. You want ugly, then peruse not-so-young-anymore Trent Green's numbers in the Chiefs' loss to Indy last week: 14-24 for only a buck-seven (107 yards), with two picks, bad enough for 48.4 on the vaunted QB-meter. Seattle's Matt Hasselback never came close to matching his stellar 2005 campaign this season, and that trend continued right into the postseason games; in a win over Dallas and a loss to Chicago, he went 36-69 for only 435 yards, and his 3 TDs were offset by 3 INTs. Final rating, a mediocre 68.2.

I thought Philly's Jeff Garcia played way above his head down the stretch, and his above-average play continued into the playoffs. In the win over the Giants and the loss to New Orleans, Garcia went 32-61 for 393 yards, with 2 TDs and no picks, good enought for an 83.6 QB rating. That number was bested by the beleaguered Eli Manning, whose 16-27 day for 161 yards with 2 TDs and a pick gave him an 85.6 rating.

Another much-beleaguered signal-caller, Chicago's Rex Grossman, picked a good day to return to early season form, going 21-38 for 282 yards, one pick and one beautifully thrown deep ball to WR Bernard Berrian, a 76.9 rating. Grossman also threw a clutch 30-yard pass to WR Rashied Davis on third down to set up the game-winning FG in OT. I liked the way Grossman handled himself during all the turmoil over his recent play, and I think he lights it up from here on in, eventually leading his Bears to the title.

Drew Brees put up the best numbers in the Saints' tight win over the Eagles. His efficient 20-32 passing, with a TD and no picks, gave him the only 90-plus rating among all playoff QBs, at 96.2. No surprise when you consider Brees threw for over 4,400 yards in 2006, with 26 TDs against only 11 INTs -- an overall passer rating for the season of, you guessed it, exactly 96.2! Maybe the best free agent pickup since the late Reggie White joined the Packers in the mid-1990s.

In the Cowboys' excruciating 1-point loss to Seattle last week, Romo threw for 189 yards on 17-29 passing, with no picks and a tough. That gave him an excellent 89.2 rating -- the second best one-game QB performance in this year's playoffs after Brees'. Looking back, it's now abundantly clear that the Cowboys' offensive game plan didn't do enough to let Romo and his receivers exploit Seattle's weakness in the secondary. Yet when the Cowboys came up a point short, it denied Romo a chance to do what no other first-year starter had accomplished in almost 30 years -- namely, the Rams' Vince Ferragamo was the last first-year starting QB to win a road playoff game, and that took place way back in 1979. So when you consider the odds, and how difficult it is to win any postseason game, you can't be too disappointed with Romo and the Cowboys losing a close one. It's just the way they lost it that still stings. That and how tough Seattle played the Bears makes you wonder whether the Cowboys could have been sitting a game away from the Big Dance going into next week. But let's move on...

I'll admit I was pulling for the Eagles to beat the feel-good-story Saints, especially after Reggie Bush's unforgivable fumble late in the fourth quarter gave Philly such a great chance to go ahead. It would have been oh-so-sweet for media darling Bush to spend the entire offseason taking hits as the one who cost his team the chance to advance. Hey, what can I say -- misery enjoys a little camaraderie.

Fox got burned during the Saints game when the network's habit of constantly showing close-ups of fans in the stands as a core production value caught up with them -- dwelling several seconds too long on a young woman wearing a black T-shirt with the words FUCK DA EAGLES scripted across her ample chest ... Announcer Dick Stockton came up with another of his patented malapropisms, saying a defender had made a "shoe-saving tackle" ... You'd hate to lose a shoe and cost your team a game ... One pitiful fan at the Bears' game brought a homemade "Play Like Jack Bauer" sign. Can you be more of a human billboard? Pathetic. Hopefully he reported right back to the mental institution at game's end ... Incidentally, not only did Fox shatter the under/over of shameless plugs for the 24 premiere, but even more predictably used the 24 "template" for a forced opening segment leading to the kickoff. Typical Fox subtlety ... Seattle's Shaun Alexander exposed the Bears' run defense for over 100 yards, but I still think he runs soft and doesn't like contact ... You want to see slashing, tough running, you need to look at the Saints' Deuce McAllister (21-143 versus the Eagles); that's how you hit a hole and drive for extra yardage ... Three weird cases this weekend where the pass defense range of a middle linebacker actually hurt his team: both Brian Urlacher and Ray Lewis (twice) dropped back into coverage and batted balls down that otherwise would have gone for easy interceptions by a defensive back ... I still can't quite believe that longtime Cowboys nemesis Tiki Barber will indeed stay retired, but one thing is certain: after that nasty $15 million divorce settlement, we all know Michael Strahan isn't going anywhere for a while.

Let's cap these incisive football comments with best wishes and good luck to baseball's Bobby Ray Murcer in his recovery from a malignant brain tumor. Newsday's Mark Herman had a terrific column Sunday on what Murcer meant to Yankees fans of my age: "For anyone who grew up a tad too late for the big dynasty, Murcer was the best we had and we were happy to have him." Nicely put ... Let's hope we get to hear some more of Murcer's own charming verbal vernacularisms in the coming season.

It's Alright Ma, We're Only Bleeding

Oh the humanity! Only the finality of the NFL playoffs can bring this much heartache to a football fan. Ask any New York Giants or Jets fan, ask a Kansas City Chiefs fan -- teams which were bounced out of the playoffs last weekend -- or of course just ask any Cowboy fan how bad a postseason elimination is, then multiply it by around a hundred when you get one of those kick in the stomach losses. The defeat ranked right down there with some of the most unlucky, unbelievable losses in recent NFL postseason memory -- regrettably joining the rancid ranks of the Oakland Raiders' cruel loss to the Patriots in the notorious January 2002 "tuck rule" game and the Giants' historic collapse to the 49ers in the same month, the last occasion where a botched snap or hold on a field goal factored so monumentally into a playoff game's outcome.

In the Cowboys 55th all-time playoff game, the Cowboys came up a day late and a dollar short, leaving about a thousand what-ifs to play themselves out in the dumbfounded mindsets of their stupefied fans. This was only the Cowboys second one-point playoff loss, the other being the famous 28-27 loss following the 1981 season to Joe Montana's upstart SF 49er team, which forever after was known simply as "The Catch." But I didn't even reference that game in my own mind following the botched snap by QB Tony Romo. No, this game brought a unique pain all its own.

It wasn't just a normal loss in the postseason, as if that wouldn't have been enough to bum me out for an entire offseason. No, this one had to involve the new face of the franchise, Tony Romo, mishandling the snap on a chip-shot field goal attempt that would have put us up 2 points with about a minute left. Beforehand, there was the tease of TE Jason Witten's first down that wasn't, the football follies moment of WR Terry Glenn's fumble that maybe wasn't even a catch, and a handful of questionable penalties (Seattle getting 4 crucial first downs via penalty), in addition to the usual 5 or 6 plays that swing a game one way or the other in your average NFL game.

By my calculation, the Heartache Express will be coming to seven other NFL cities this year, starting with four such stops this weekend. So if misery loves company, then the losers of these four playoff games -- Baltimore-Indy, Seattle-Chicago, Philly-New Orleans, New England-San Diego -- are themselves in for a heaping helping of hurt once the final scores are tallied by the great finger of the scorekeeper in the sky. Here's hoping a few new scapegoats will emerge, a few more goats and villains if you will, to take some of the unwanted onus off young Tony Romo, already the butt of some lame Jay Leno "jokes" (are there any other kind?) and water cooler scorn & mockery, depending on which lens you view his recent gaffe through.

Leaving aside the bitter end to the 21-20 defeat at the hands of Coffeetown's own band of Seahawks, Romo didn't play all that badly, going 17-29 for 189 and a touch. I was right that Julius Jones was due for a big game, and he had one, with 112 yards on 22 carries, including the key 35-yarder on that last drive that almost, almost, almost went for a TD. But Dallas didn't do enough to exploit Seattle's weakness in the secondary, and while the defense played better, no sacks and very little pressure on Seattle QB Matt Hasselback allowed him to pass for 240 yards and 2 TDs. As I expected, they bottled up RB Shaun Alexander, who has yet to have a big game in a big game, holding him to 69 yards on 24 carries; his only damage came on Seattle's last drive after the missed FG attempt, when he ran for 20 key yards and thus all but seal ed the outcome.

Ironically, the Cowboys probably would have been better off if the officials had ruled the Terry Glenn fumble as a TD instead of a 2-point safety, as the play eventually resulted in 8 Seahawk points; the Cowboys would have gotten the ball back after that series with the game tied at 20, instead of down by 1 after Seattle's missed 2-point conversion following the TD. In other words, the safety made it 20-15 Dallas, then Seattle took over and scored to make it 21-20. Funny how things play out, although maybe funny isn't the right word...

I thought Sports Illustrated's Don Banks came closest to capturing the mood of depressed, despairing Cowboy fans the world over when he said: "In retrospect, it had to end that way for the Dallas Cowboys this season, didn't it? With one last wild swing of momentum, one final plunge on the down side of the rollercoaster ride that was their 2006. It had to end with Tony Romo being humbled by his game-deciding mistake, after seemingly having the world at his feet just a few short weeks ago. From Next Big Thing to Bill Buckner, in the span of about a month. It was the closest thing the NFL can come to Greek tragedy, and it was a devastatingly swift turn of events for a quarterback who had the word "mania'' attached to his last name for much of the season's second half."

Well, yes, Don, it may have resembled a Greek tragedy, but somehow I highly doubt even old Sophocles or Euripedes at their pre-Socratic peak possessed enough powers of descriptive imagination to capture how absolutely crestfallen it must have felt to be the one player who undeniably cost his team a chance to advance in the National Football League playoffs. But Banks was also right when he said that Romo's young enough to recover from this brush with disaster. Either the football gods plotted nefariously to humble this kid who took the football world by storm immediately after his ascension to the starting QB position on the NFL's most high profile team, or they have even bigger plans and greater success down the road for him but first saw fit to put a few skyscraper-sized obstacles in his way to make it that much sweeter when he reaches the sport's ultimate pinnacle. This is no time to stress the negative, however, because in football there is always the chance for redemption as long as you have an opportunity to keep playing. There will be other Saturday nights and Sunday afternoons, and I would take Tony Romo on my side any day, any time, as we go into battle. Only quitters themselves would think otherwise.

And SI's Tim Layden, who wrote a great feature on Romo during the height of Romo-mania, also expects the young QB to bounce back next year. Layden writes that Romo's extraordinary work ethic and drive to succeed will in the long run make "The Bobble" a mere footnote when it's all said, done and written: "Romo is in the football business to carve out a long and successful career with personal acclaim and, more important, team success. That's why he will rally. I would expect him to slip underground for a while. No public appearances with Underwood or any other American Idols in the near future. He will go to the Pro Bowl and get the support of other players who understand his plight."

That said, it will take more than time and tide to erase the shattered psyche of a battered gladiator. Only winning can take some of the sting away. Playoff game winning. A lot of QBs went through a lot of agony before they won the prize, and I'm thinking here of John Elway, Phil Simms, Steve Young, even Roger the Dodger himself ... while others won it all early and thus relatively pain-free, like Joe Montana, Tom Brady and Terry Bradshaw.


































With all the unbridled glory the Dallas Cowboys have enjoyed, the team and its fans have somehow have had to endure much more than their fair share of galling, appalling losses, especially in the postseason. It began early in the team's history with those two back to back tough-fought NFL championship game defeats to the Packers in the late 1960s, including the notorious Ice Bowl; continuing on with the 16-13 loss to the Colts in Super Bowl V on Jim O'Brien's last-second field goal; the two monumental Super Bowl losses to the Pittsburgh Steelers in the 1970s -- no Cowboy fan of a certain age can forget Jackie Smith's end-zone drop of an easy TD from Staubach -- coming up short in three consecutive NFC championship games, losing on the road to Philadelphia, San Fran & Washington. In this they resemble another highly successful framchise in another sport, namely your New York Baseball Yankees, who have been on the tantalizingly short end of countless close-but-no-cigar moments, as any follower of the Bronx Bombers can attest, especially in this new century. And like the Yankees, the Cowboys have also had a disturbing amount of premature deaths & tragic casualties among its populace of players, from losing Harvey Martin, Bob Hayes, and Mark Tuinei to the well-publicized off-field travails of Hollywood Henderson, Michael Irvin, Nate Newton, Lance Rentzel, etc. ... Luckily, as Yankee fans have all those World Series trophies to console them, the Cowboys will always have those five Super Bowl trophies to offset some of the torment.


One quick fact, whether or not it makes for ammunition that can be used by conspiracy theorists: before the fateful snap on the botched field goal, the Cowboys' long snapper, the well-known L.P. Ladouceur, complained that the football he was given was too slippery. The NFL now uses what are known as K-Balls for all kicking situations, which are basically NFL regulation balls but they're taken right out of the box without being handled in any way by staff members of either team. For years, ever since the policy went into effect in 1999, kickers and snappers and holders have complained about the situation, but to no avail. The Saints' John Carney said that kickers "were punished" when they came up with the new rules, saying that "nobody really likes the K-Balls."

It may have been a good idea in theory, the NFL trying to assure that all footballs used in the kicking game conform to one standard, but it's a case of going too far in the other direction and thus hurting the game. Perhaps the Cowboys and earlier the Bengals, who had their seasons ended by bobbled snaps on short, potential game-winning field goals, are only the first victims of the dreaded K-Ball.

I noticed something weeks and weeks ago about the strange way Tony Romo holds on field goals and extra points, something nobody has brought up in the relentless, ongoing deconstruction of "The Hold." Now, obviously, for a right-footed kicker, the holder will set up for the hold on the kicker's right, and vice versa for a lefty. But Romo, a right-hander, used his left hand -- specifically the index finger on his left hand -- to place the ball on the ground. To me that's an extra step in the process that increases the potential for error. Watch all the kicks this weekend and see if any other holder uses anything but his right hand to spot the ball.

It's obviously 20-20 hindsight now, but on the very first replay they showed of the botched snap and then Romo taking off around left end in his futile attempt to reach the endzone and/or the one-yard line, which would have given Dallas a first down, I noticed that all K Martin Gramatica had to do was get his body in the way of Seattle's Jordan Babineaux -- not even make a block but more like a basketball screen -- and he would have been unable to tackle Romo from behind. I know we don't pay the 5-8 Argentinean to block safeties, but I'm just saying that any physical contact at all would have prevented Babineaux from making his game-saving shoestring tackle. Such is the tenuous nature of that cruel mistress football and why it's often rightly dubbed a proverbial game of inches.
As any sentient Cowboys fan will tell you, some good did come out of the premature end to Dallas' season last weekend. Mike Zimmer, the Cowboys' justifiably much-maligned defensive coordinator, was thankfully taken off our hands by the Atlanta Falcons, who somehow saw fit to give the job to the man whose defense totally collapsed down the stretch -- going from one of the top squads in terms of yardage and points allowed to a stuttering, sputtering unit that allowed tons of each to opponents. The collapse started with the Saints game, when the D gave up 42; continued with Atlanta (28) and Philly (23), before reaching a new nadir in the Detroit fiasco (39). Although the defense played better in Seattle, it was hardly dominating at any point, and so the feeling is one of good riddance to the embattled Mike Zimmer, if not good luck as such. CB Terence Newman, one of the real leaders on the entire team, may have inadvertently expressed the overall sentiment toward Zimmer when he said this about potential replacement Todd Bowles (currently the team's secondary coach), "Instead of running the same thing every week, he knows teams will figure that out and understands you have to change things up." Ouch!

In other coaching matters, it looks like Bill Parcells will return for a fifth year as head coach. I don't see him going out like that. I really think a coaching staff shakeup is in order, and I think we need to hire a proven defensive coordinator in the 3-4 if that's what we're gonna stick with. I personally like the 4-3 for the personnel we have, with our best/only pass rusher DeMarcus Ware moving back to traditional DE and not being used ever again in coverage -- one of the real lamentations expressed by Cowboy fans in their catalog of criticisms hurled at the outgoing Zimmer: How could you drop your best sack-meister off into the flat or deep into zone coverage to guard wide receivers while the QB gets time to survey the field and pick the secondary apart? You'd think that was Football 101, but not in Zimmer's playbook. My brother mentioned one possible candidate to replace him: Baltimore's Rex Ryan, son of Buddy, although we don't know his contract status (the Ravens' website says only that he's in his second year as defensive coordinator); NFL coaches don't usually make lateral moves unless their deals are up.

Another positive, besides Zimmer leaving, was the inspired play of last year's #1 pick, LB Bobby Carpenter, who showed his athleticism and football instincts to make a bunch of plays last Saturday. We have our full allotment of draft picks as well as a boatload of cap space to make some key additions going into next season. Until then, we will neither surrender nor retreat. I know as much as our QB, Tony Romo, must be itching to get back on the field and prove himself all over again, that's how eager fans are to see some painful memories erased. At this point it doesn't pay to rehash the negativity; instead you have to pick yourself up and dust yourself off so that you can live for another day where you can instill some misery on someone else. And at the end of the day, isn't that what sports is all about?

For this weekend's games I like Chicago big over Seattle, the Saints to struggle with the Eagles but win a very close one late, New England over San Diego by at least 10, and the Ravens to win a low scoring game over the Colts. In fact, right now I like the Bears to go all the way, flaws & all, winning a close Super Bowl over Baltimore. But for those playing at home, please, no wagering...

Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting

"It's getting late, have you seen my mates
Ma tell me when the Boys get here
It's seven o'clock and I want to rock
Want to get a belly full of beer."



















It's that time of year again. This weekend and next, with four games each, give us the best that the NFL has to offer, with two games on both Saturday and Sunday. And if your team is lucky enough to gain entry into the "tournament," as it's now all too often referred to, that makes it all the more sweet.

Now, you'd have to be a cockeyed optimist to have a good feeling about advancing if you're a Dallas Cowboy fan, given how they finished the 2006 campaign, and I've been called many things, but optimist is usually not one of them. Cockeyed, yes, but optimistic, cheery, jaunty or just plain sprightly? Let's say rarely.

And when the unpleasant facts are laid on the table, anyone can make a strong case for pessimism, considering the Cowboys lost three of their last four games to close the season, have to travel to one of the loudest stadia in the country (like how I used the Latin there, eh?), and are sporting a "defense" that has given up an obscene amount of points (132) and touchdown passes (try 15: 5 to Drew Brees, 4 to Michael Vick, 2 to Jeff Garcia, 4 more to Jon Kitna) in that same four-game span. Ouch! That's as many points as the defense had given up in the previous eight games!

But then you look at the other side of the ball and you have to be, well, somewhat sanguine about our chances, and by our I mean the collective Dallas Cowboy nation, because "we" scored 425 points, good enough for third in the league, only two points behind second place Indy and Chicago. Not bad, considering "we" changed quarterbacks in midstream.

It has become suddenly fashionable to bash Tony Romo in recent weeks. But if Sunday's loss was a bad game for him, then we look for more of the same; 23-32 for 321 yards, 2 TDs and a pick, despite a constant pass rush that caused Romo to lose a fumble at a crucial point in the game.


Also, Julius Jones is just simply due for a big game, and he returns to Qwest Field in Seattle, the site of his career-best 198-yard, 3 TD performance two years ago in a wild 43-39 Dallas win. Another positive is what I heard this morning on ESPN, that last year in the wild card round the road team won 3 of the 4 games. I see only one road team victory this year, however, the aforementioned Cowboys prevailing on Saturday night 34-24, with the Colts prevailing over the KC Chiefs, the Eagles handling the visiting Giants, and the Patriots doing the same to the upstart New York Jets.


At one point of course the Cowboys stood at a heady 8-4, with Romo-mania in full effect, before dropping those last 3 home games. Winning a 10th game this year would have given the franchise an amazing 25th 10-win season; our 24 such years are already an NFL record, as are the 8 Super Bowl appearances -- not bad considering we came into the league as an expansion club in 1960, some 30 or 40 years behind established teams like the Packers, Bears, Giants, Redskins and Pittsburgh.

Bill Parcells' record stands at 34-30 for the four years he's been Cowboys' head coach, with two playoff appearances. Considering he inherited a team that had gone 5-11 in each of the 3 seasons under Dave Campo before he took over, I'd give him a B, with the chance to move up to B+ if we advance at least one round in this year's playoffs. Now, the Cowboys have lost the final regular season game in each of Parcells' four years, which is disturbing, but the personnel outlook is still much, much brighter than it was going back four years. As long as we don't go the dreaded "one & done" route, I will consider the year an overall success, taking into account that I believe we have our QB of the future.

Now, perhaps Romo did hit a wall toward the end of the year, but the backlash and resentment over his Pro Bowl selection was wholly unmerited. Just whose place did he take to make him undeserving of the honor? A homer-istic Chicago writer last week tried to make that very case, saying that Bears QB Rex Grossman should have joined Marc Bulger and Drew Brees on the NFC squad, and that Romo has come crashing back to earth. Then Grossman unfortunately had to go out and play, where to say he stunk up the joint would be an insult to malodorous performances throughout the ages. The man went a horrendous 2-12 passing against the Packers, for a putrid 33 yards, somehow managing to sprinkle in 3 interceptions -- giving Grossman the never-good distinction of completing more passes to the other team than to his own designated receiving corps. Yikes! By the time the afternoon was finished, Grossman limped off the field with a 0.0 QB rating; in fact, so absolutely futile was his stat line that I think he ended up owing the league points. Grossman finished the year with a mediocre 73.9 passer rating (24th in the NFL, behind Eli Manning, Michael Vick and Alex Smith), with 23 TDs but 20 INTs.

In contrast, my boy Romo finished at a celestial 95.4, good for fifth in the league, completing 65.3 percent of his passes, with 19 TDs and 13 picks, and 2,901 yards in his 10 starts plus one half of relief versus the Giants. In somewhat of a cross-sport, inter-generational stretch, I like to compare Romo's year in 2006 with the one Yankees' great Don Mattingly had in his first season in 1983, when he hit .283 but finished the year in a slump after staying well above .300 for most of the year. The next year he came back to lead the AL in batting at .343 and the next year, 1985, was MVP. I expect history to repeat itself.

Getting back to the Dallas defense, it's obvious now that we should have scrapped the 3-4 defense when Greg Ellis was lost for the year after 9 games and returned to the traditional 4-3 front. The pass rush was atrocious from that point on, the only positive being DeMarcus Ware's 11.5 sacks. With the secondary looking as lost as it has in the last 4 or 5 games, we needed to get DEs Jason Hatcher, Kenyon Coleman and fellow Hofstra product Stephen Bowen on the line of scrimmage with a hand on the ground and their ears pinned back, as they say in the business. Bowen may have something going on and could be an X factor in this week's game. You heard it here first.

How about the success that Hofstra players have been having recently in the NFL? When I went there back in the day, the football and basketball programs were nowhere, man, while the wrestling team was ranked just outside the top 20 in the nation and had just produced an NCAA champion, Nick Gallo; at 142 pounds, he used to kick my ass on a daily basis in practice despite giving up almost 20 pounds. But ever since WR Wayne Chrebet literally came out of nowhere to make the Jets as a free agent in 1995, there have been quite a few Flying Dutchmen, as they used to be called before the PC police quashed their overly ethnically descriptive nickname (changing it to the generically inoffensive Pride), making their mark in the league, including the Saints' rookie sensation Marques Colston, who finished second to Vince Young in rookie of the year voting.

I don't recall if a Hofstra University player has ever been chosen in the first round of the NFL draft, and I guess I'm not interested enough right now to look it up, but I heard a mind-blowing stat during a college bowl game the other night: football powerhouse Notre Dame has not had a #1 pick taken since 1993, when Jerome Bettis was picked by the Rams! And not uncoincidentally, the Fighting Irish -- another potentially offensive moniker -- haven't won a bowl game during the same stretch. It goes to show that their soft schedule in recent years, for instance scheduling games with all three service academies this year (Army, Navy, Air Force) and other tomato cans, has probably hurt them more than helped them in terms of being labeled overrated.

My new go-to source for Cowboys info, bloggingtheboys.com, had what I thought was a funny take on the answer Bill Parcells gave to a Seattle writer asking him whether he was a dog or cat person. He revealed he and his girlfriend had a cat, a 16- or 17-pounder named Cody. Bill went on to say how athletic the cat was, and how he "can do stuff you wouldn't believe." Which inspired the following hilarious parody of NFL coach-speak: Parcells went on to say the cat "has qualities that you just can't see. He's a diligent worker, studies hard; he comes in on off-days and catches mice. I like the cat; I think he's coming along nicely. He gets it, he knows when to eat the cheese or when to put it out to attract mice, he has a good grasp on where the litter box is. When he got here he paid attention to a veteran tabby down the road named "Mr. Chips", that was a good influence on Cody. Now he's starting to understand, he knows when it's OK to cough up a fur ball and when it's not. He's got a future in this house."

Somehow the Redskins managed to finish next to last in the entire league in overall defense. Anyone who watched them totally shut down the high-powered Saints a few weeks ago would have trouble processing that statistic. And when you add to it the fact that Washington has the highest paid coaching staff in the league, with defensive coordinator Greg Williams, at almost $3 million a year, earning more than most head coaches, you have to shake your head at the direction the Skins are heading. Sure, they had key injuries to players like LB Marcus Washington, but that team closed out 2006 with a dreadful display of tackling against the Giants, making Tiki Barber look more like Jim Brown or Earl Campbell in their power-back primes than the speed back he is. In other words, you can live with Barber running around your defense, but when he runs through it and shreds you for 200-plus yards, there's something rotten in the nation's capital -- and this time at least it has nothing to do with the stench of misguided, messianic, inept incompetence emanating from the bowels of the White House. Let's end it on that uplifting Bush-bashing note.

Ciao for now!