I’ve been coping with the desultory end to the 2013 season by gorging on a marathon session of the TV drama Dexter on Netflix. Watching our serial killer hero, the “Bay Harbor Butcher,” stab and dismember one bad guy after another through eight seasons of gory mayhem somehow seemed to capture my mood. I’ve even sent a fan letter to Dexter, who ends the show living somewhere up in the northwest logging country, suggesting 53 guys and one head coach who most definitely belong on his “table.”
How does a Denver defense that held the prolific Tom Brady Patriots to a mere 16 points turn around two weeks later and let the hohum Seattle offense march up and down the field at will?
One answer could be that football is a cranky babe and sometimes shit just happens. One week you’re good, one week you stink. Another could be that Brady is a washed up choker who’s afraid of heights and one mile up from sea level was too much for his delicate psyche to cope with.
Or it could be that Denver didn’t face a single mobile quarterback all year, and also their QB Peyton Manning didn’t face a single top ten defense all year. The perfect storm for an SB face plant.
Not that anybody cares one way or the other about now. Most of you have already moved on to the 2014 season and the upcoming draft. The world will mercifully close the door on football today by opening up the Winter Olympics from Sochi, a Russian city on the eastern side of the Black Sea. And throw in the Pebble Beach National Pro/Am golf tournament, which will tee it up this morning and play four days in the rain, if you’re looking to watch some miserable golfers slogging along wishing they’d skipped this event.
The Olympics used to be fun, back in the day when they actually showed sporting events instead of sappy bios of teenagers overcoming bed wetting to realize their dreams, interspersed with sixteen trillion ads and some of the worst talking heads ever rounded up to poison the airways. The Pebble Beach tourney was a lot more fun when rumpled drunks were hacking away on the course instead of immaculately coiffed mega-stars posing for the cameras at every tee.
As always, the more life lifes away, the worse it gets at lifing.