Thursday, January 31, 2008
Yay! It's the Super Bowl!--Pepper
I am such an unabashed football fan. Every August I begin watching the pre-season and paying attention to the analysts and preparing for my Fantasy Football draft. I sign up for 2-3 Pick 'Em Leagues. I monitor the players for the Broncos, noting who is coming and going and what the team is doing in general. I practice talking trash. I made my predictions. If I can, I order NFL Sunday Ticket so I don't have to miss a minute of any game all day.
The one thing I'm not thrilled about is the narrative the Media always forces onto the season. Brett Favre is trying for one more Championship before he retires. Peyton Manning wants to capture the magic again. Tom Brady is the NFL Golden Boy. The Giants always get a lot of attention because they're a New York team, and the Cowboys get attention because they're "America's Team" (blech), and there's always a handful of teams that are almost the elite, but manage to fail pretty much every year. Then of course, there's my Broncos. If I wrote about the pain they've caused me over the past two seasons, this blog would be very long, indeed. But, suffice it to say, I'm never going to forgive them for firing Jake "The Snake" Plummer.
I think it's practically a given that the Patriots are going to win on Sunday. I think either way it's going to be a historical game. Either the Patriots will be crowned one of the best teams in NFL history (if the the best), or the Giants will be the biggest spoiler in NFL history.
Either way, I can't wait for next August. My Broncos sucked this season, but there's always next year, right? That's the best part of being a football fan. That eternal hope that even an insane head coach can't quite beat out of you. ¶ posted at 11:23 PM by Pepper Espinoza
The one thing I'm not thrilled about is the narrative the Media always forces onto the season. Brett Favre is trying for one more Championship before he retires. Peyton Manning wants to capture the magic again. Tom Brady is the NFL Golden Boy. The Giants always get a lot of attention because they're a New York team, and the Cowboys get attention because they're "America's Team" (blech), and there's always a handful of teams that are almost the elite, but manage to fail pretty much every year. Then of course, there's my Broncos. If I wrote about the pain they've caused me over the past two seasons, this blog would be very long, indeed. But, suffice it to say, I'm never going to forgive them for firing Jake "The Snake" Plummer.
I think it's practically a given that the Patriots are going to win on Sunday. I think either way it's going to be a historical game. Either the Patriots will be crowned one of the best teams in NFL history (if the the best), or the Giants will be the biggest spoiler in NFL history.
Either way, I can't wait for next August. My Broncos sucked this season, but there's always next year, right? That's the best part of being a football fan. That eternal hope that even an insane head coach can't quite beat out of you. ¶ posted at 11:23 PM by Pepper Espinoza
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I too am a fan of football. My team is the infamous and highly unstable Baltimore Ravens, who can't figure out what they want more, penalties or the playoffs. Anyway, I'm sorry to see the superbowl because it means that the season is pretty much over and I have to wait before the next...which SUCKS as no other sport (UFC and the Strong Man Competition don't count).
As for Jake Plummer, My God, I aways thought he was HAWT. We called him the Mountain Man and that beard...ok, so yeah, your team had an awesome defense and I was swearing up and down that they would do better this year...but like my team they seemed to have a few inner issues.
I am one however who loves the larger than life hype and would gladly hold Brett Favre's axe while he takes a break from chopping wood on his ranch. I was hopeful that they would beat NY, ok, praying is a better word. If the Ravens couldn't go, I wanted hardy Green Bay to humiliate the hawty Patriots. Surely the tougher stock could beat out the fisherman, but...alas, I am calling for the Patriots to win over the second best team with a Manning Prince at the helm. (I'm more a fan of Peyton)
As for the Gold Boy Brady, I only wish I could write a pushy bottom half as enigmatic, as shy but as ruthless still as that one. Cute but deadly is my nick name for him...
I could talk about football for quite a while, but I just wanted to tell you that I share your addiction and will be watching the Superbowl and talking trash as well!! It's primal fun IMHO at its best.
As for Jake Plummer, My God, I aways thought he was HAWT. We called him the Mountain Man and that beard...ok, so yeah, your team had an awesome defense and I was swearing up and down that they would do better this year...but like my team they seemed to have a few inner issues.
I am one however who loves the larger than life hype and would gladly hold Brett Favre's axe while he takes a break from chopping wood on his ranch. I was hopeful that they would beat NY, ok, praying is a better word. If the Ravens couldn't go, I wanted hardy Green Bay to humiliate the hawty Patriots. Surely the tougher stock could beat out the fisherman, but...alas, I am calling for the Patriots to win over the second best team with a Manning Prince at the helm. (I'm more a fan of Peyton)
As for the Gold Boy Brady, I only wish I could write a pushy bottom half as enigmatic, as shy but as ruthless still as that one. Cute but deadly is my nick name for him...
I could talk about football for quite a while, but I just wanted to tell you that I share your addiction and will be watching the Superbowl and talking trash as well!! It's primal fun IMHO at its best.
I'm so glad somebody else shares my addiction! It's hard to find women who do, and quite frankly, men don't take me seriously even though I regularly beat men every year in Fantasy Football and Pick 'Ems. I think they don't take me seriously because I too find Jake Plummer so so so so so hot. God, especially with the beard and the long hair. And I loved the way he would do his press conferences in sweats and bare feet.
As for the Gold Boy Brady, I only wish I could write a pushy bottom half as enigmatic, as shy but as ruthless still as that one. Cute but deadly is my nick name for him...
It's like we share a brain. Though I did once get in a very long discussion with my sister about whether or not he would top Peyton. He decided he would. and Peyton would like it.
I don't like Favre though. Not even a little bit. Everything about that guy annoys me. I wish John Madden would just write some Mary-Sue fanfic about Favre and get over it already.
As for the Gold Boy Brady, I only wish I could write a pushy bottom half as enigmatic, as shy but as ruthless still as that one. Cute but deadly is my nick name for him...
It's like we share a brain. Though I did once get in a very long discussion with my sister about whether or not he would top Peyton. He decided he would. and Peyton would like it.
I don't like Favre though. Not even a little bit. Everything about that guy annoys me. I wish John Madden would just write some Mary-Sue fanfic about Favre and get over it already.
Pepper,
Concerning Favre, he is such a silverback and I could easily write him as brooding, calculating top of a daddy and if Green Bay would have been in the Superbowl, I would have had to write some...slash...
Tom just couldn't leave the locker room. The fans were gone, their cheers long past. His team mates had left to down beers and expensive cocktails mixed with energy drinks. Even Bill, his coach and mentor, the man who had believed in him, was gone, having flown off in the owners private jet.
They were all gone, having accepted the loss of the New England patriots, the team that was supposed to win it all...16-0 meant nothing without the crown, he thought.
Well the crown belonged to the king, he supposed... Brett 'fucking' Favre. Tom hated the man, hated his rugged, tougher than bears demenor. Even when he threw an interception, Brett looked as if it just might have been intentional. The man was so cold and harsh, even when he smiled the icyness of his eyes froze even the camera solid...His own team looked at him with low caste eyes.
Tom just couldn't get over it. It wasn't his fault. The fucking game was tied, 27-27, if Favre hadn't gone for that damn conversion...Tom shook his head telling himself, that he should just get up off of the bench. He didn't have to shower, just empty his locker and meet his limo driver...The man probably thought he was never going to come out. Lord knew, he didn't want to. The media was no doubt lurking around the stadium, waiting to compare his leadership with that of Brett.
Well, there was no use prolonging the inevitable. With a deep inhalation, Tom stood up and opened his locker. He pulled out his duffle bag and set it down on the bench.
He stripped off his jersey, his arm and shoulder pads, finding some relief in their loss. Beneath the gridiron chieftan there was still a simple man within him. It was liberating for him to know, to feel. With every item removed, he began to feel the loss that much less...It was only a game.
"So. You finally finished the pity party, huh boy?"
Tom froze, recognizing the voice. Turning around, he laid eyes on his rival, the bastard son of Odin. "Fuck you, Brett," Tom seethed.
The insult caused Brett to chuckle, but his cold blue eyes held only bold intensity. "Ouch. To look at yah, I wouldn't have expected such a foul fucking mouth."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing at all, Playgirl poster boy."
"You want this Playgirl poster boy to kick your fucking ass, Ole Man?"
Brett raised his chin. He crossed his arms as he considered Tom from head to toe. "You could try. Oh wait, you did and you lost. You want another opportunity?"
Stumped, Tom didn't know what he wanted. Brett was as fit as he was despite his age. He had the look of a brawler in a way that dangerous, devilmay care fisherman in Maine looked. He looked liked the type that he would steer well clear of, but then he was also the man that Tom aimed to beat.
Concerning Favre, he is such a silverback and I could easily write him as brooding, calculating top of a daddy and if Green Bay would have been in the Superbowl, I would have had to write some...slash...
Tom just couldn't leave the locker room. The fans were gone, their cheers long past. His team mates had left to down beers and expensive cocktails mixed with energy drinks. Even Bill, his coach and mentor, the man who had believed in him, was gone, having flown off in the owners private jet.
They were all gone, having accepted the loss of the New England patriots, the team that was supposed to win it all...16-0 meant nothing without the crown, he thought.
Well the crown belonged to the king, he supposed... Brett 'fucking' Favre. Tom hated the man, hated his rugged, tougher than bears demenor. Even when he threw an interception, Brett looked as if it just might have been intentional. The man was so cold and harsh, even when he smiled the icyness of his eyes froze even the camera solid...His own team looked at him with low caste eyes.
Tom just couldn't get over it. It wasn't his fault. The fucking game was tied, 27-27, if Favre hadn't gone for that damn conversion...Tom shook his head telling himself, that he should just get up off of the bench. He didn't have to shower, just empty his locker and meet his limo driver...The man probably thought he was never going to come out. Lord knew, he didn't want to. The media was no doubt lurking around the stadium, waiting to compare his leadership with that of Brett.
Well, there was no use prolonging the inevitable. With a deep inhalation, Tom stood up and opened his locker. He pulled out his duffle bag and set it down on the bench.
He stripped off his jersey, his arm and shoulder pads, finding some relief in their loss. Beneath the gridiron chieftan there was still a simple man within him. It was liberating for him to know, to feel. With every item removed, he began to feel the loss that much less...It was only a game.
"So. You finally finished the pity party, huh boy?"
Tom froze, recognizing the voice. Turning around, he laid eyes on his rival, the bastard son of Odin. "Fuck you, Brett," Tom seethed.
The insult caused Brett to chuckle, but his cold blue eyes held only bold intensity. "Ouch. To look at yah, I wouldn't have expected such a foul fucking mouth."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing at all, Playgirl poster boy."
"You want this Playgirl poster boy to kick your fucking ass, Ole Man?"
Brett raised his chin. He crossed his arms as he considered Tom from head to toe. "You could try. Oh wait, you did and you lost. You want another opportunity?"
Stumped, Tom didn't know what he wanted. Brett was as fit as he was despite his age. He had the look of a brawler in a way that dangerous, devilmay care fisherman in Maine looked. He looked liked the type that he would steer well clear of, but then he was also the man that Tom aimed to beat.
With almost 4 years US residency (cumulaitve, not consecutive) I should know this, but--um--when is the Superbowl and on which channel?
It is this Sunday on FOX (it's usually the last Sunday of Jan or the first in Feb). Kick-off is 6:18 EST.
Mya, even though I don't like Brett, that was hot. There should be more NFL slashiness in the world.
Mya, even though I don't like Brett, that was hot. There should be more NFL slashiness in the world.
Most definately. Another reason to watch football, asses in tight pants and big thighs...be sure to have your nachos, wings, beer and more fattening foods ready for the game.
I keep wishing I could find the time to write Brady and Bruschi slash. Those two scream OTP. Although I bet that's not what Tommy's screaming.
Blah! The Patriots the best team in NFL history!!???
They CHEATED. They are CHEATERS.
'72 DOLPHINS RULE!!!!!
They CHEATED. They are CHEATERS.
'72 DOLPHINS RULE!!!!!
Hey, I think the '97 Broncos are the best team in NFL history. It's not in my clearly expert opinion that the Pats are the best, it's all in the numbers.
But I do think they engage in shady practices. Even more so than what they were caught doing.
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But I do think they engage in shady practices. Even more so than what they were caught doing.
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