The NFC won 13 straight Super Bowls from 1984 through 1997. They have won 3 straight currently. They’re liable to win some more, too.
The AFC just doesn’t look very formidable right now. There isn’t a dominant team. This was probably one of the reasons why Peyton Manning chose the Broncos over the 49ers. The path to the SB is a lot easier in the AFC, beginning with winning the AFC West, arguably the worst division in pro football.
The NFC has the powerhouse teams now. The 49ers, Packers, Saints, and Giants are all superior to any teams in the AFC. The Steelers and Patriots are getting old, the Texans lost key FAs this year, and the Ravens can’t get past choking big games. The NFC has rising young teams like the Lions and Panthers and Seahawks. The AFC has three clown franchises in New York, Miami, and Oakland. And, most damning of all, the AFC has Norv Turner occupying a Head Coach position!
If the Saints are going to continue to hang with the big boys, they’ll have to do it like the 1989 49ers did — by going on a mission to prove that they were not just the product of their fabulous head coach. Sean Payton is definitely fueling those fires now, by courting the old gas bag who turned Miami into its current disaster area — Bill Parcells.
Payton is doing this to help save his own neck, by not giving any of his assistants a chance to succeed just fine without him and give owner Tom Benson an easy avenue to just not hire him back next year. Of course, this message is already being heard loud and clear by his assistants, who may feel a diminished capacity for their Payton enthusiasm should he take the reins again next year. What a mess.
This is the second straight offseason that the departure of Alex Smith has been cruelly dangled before the hate filled eyes of The Club, only to be rudely undangled. Perhaps it’s time for these fellows to switch tactics and try killing old Alex with kindness.
It’ll be a sad day when Smith to Warm Body ceases to be an infamous blogosphoric blasphemy, though. It’ll take a few years for whoever finally replaces him to build up a vehement pit of vipers to hiss and fang at his every move and nuance. Somebody we can all get polarized about and keep the blogs humming along with the old yappity yap.
Speaking of yap, there isn’t much yip in it the past week. It’s been at least sixteen, maybe seventeen minutes since the last scandal broke out and that’s way too long for the NFL to drop the ball on holding our interest. Whenever Parcells rolls his tub of jelly onto the scene, you know there’s a void in the news. Personally, it seems to me that if you want to strike a tough Marine pose, you ought to clean up the abs jiggle above and below your belt. The big, old power belly of Rex Ryan is a far better look. That kind of gut suggests serious devotion to duty. But the flab jiggle gut just seems like lazy overeating.
March is doing its duty by going out like a lion this week in the Bay Area. Next up is April, where we have some serious old disagreement about purpose. On one side, we got Pat Boone goop and on the other we got T.S. Eliot’s The Wasteland. And the dang thing kicks off with the feast day of fools and ends up with the NFL Draft. Good old God. April is His kind of month. [Cue the lightning bolt.]