Forgive me if this article doesn’t make much sense – I’m still light-headed from last night’s Saints-Falcons game. And I didn’t even have any fantasy players involved in it. My opponents did, though: Roddy White. It made for quite the interesting night.
Going into the game, I was up 20 points and feeling somewhat optimistic about my chances… not confident, just optimistic. I knew this one was going to be a shootout, and that White has been on a tear. Nothing was a given.
After the first quarter, I felt even better, with White held to a single catch for 5 yards. By halftime, he had 21 quiet yards and his QB, Matt Ryan, was clearly having trouble getting him the ball (including throwing an interception intended for him). I actually felt my sphincter loosen, albeit ever-so-slightly.
Ah, how things can change in a matter of seconds. 86 of them, to be exact. That’s when Ryan hit White for a sixty-eight yard touchdown catch*. I watched the score jump up – from 90.4 – 72.4 to 90.4 – 85.2. I felt my sphincter slam shut – there was actually even a audible, metallic clink as it locked itself up for the night, final score be damned.
*[By the way, this was the FOURTH 65+yard touchdown play of the weekend scored by one of my opponent’s players, including a monster run by Frank Gore and two by Maurice Jones-Drew. And yes, I threw up in my mouth each time. You know, all that acid is really bad for the teeth enamel. I don’t know how models do it.]
With 8:29 left in the quarter, Ryan hit White for 19 more yards, putting my opponent at 90.1 points (1.9 points for the yardage, plus three bonus points for clearing 100 yards). With an entire quarter and a half to go, I was staring at the prospect of a defeat, a 2-6 record, the inevitable retirement from my league, and assigning writing duties for this site to someone who actually knows something about football.
At 11:30 of the 4th quarter, it was all over. White caught a diving TD pass in the end zone to tie the game at 28. My opponent’s score jumped up to 96.8. I hung my head. Sweat started to form on my upper lip. My heart started to pound. The room started to spin. I’m pretty sure my bowels released right there on the spot.
You know, if the Spanish Inquisition were around today, they would make people play fantasy football instead of threaten them with bodily harm. You can break a man’s spirit far more easily.
But wait… was that a TD catch?
Upon further review, that ball most definitely hit the ground.
“This is fantastic!” my Right Brain cried out. “They have to call that back. We still have hope!”
But Left Brain hmmpfed, “Oh, please. There’s still an entire quarter left to play for this guy to get three measly yards. Three! Even Matt Forte can get three yards…”
“Yeah, on two carries,” Right Brain retorted.
Heh. Good one, Right Brain.
But Left Brain was right… I mean, correct.
“They might as well just uphold the call now, so you’re spared the disappointment later,” LB said to me.
“You’re always bringing him down! This is why he’s such a depressed mess! Don’t you see what happens when you rob a man of his hope? He has nothing left… NOTHING!!” Right Brain shouted back, on fire now.
I sat back and closed my eyes, not sure what to hope for. I didn’t realize that my wife had entered the room, saw me in shut-eyed anguish, and noticed the score on the screen. I opened my eyes to hear a mouse-like scuttling of feet across the tiled floor in escape. She knew what was at stake and that it was best to stay away. Far, far away.
Back from commercial, the referee concluded that the pass was, indeed, incomplete. Decision was overturned. Victory still a possibility. Play on, playa.
Good times.
What followed is a little game I like to call “Huzzah!! / Mother F@*ker!!”
Huzzah!! Back in the red zone once again, Ryan is intercepted!
Mother F@*ker!! The Saints score all too easily and the Falcons get the ball back with three looooong minutes to go.
Huzzah!! On 1st-and-10 from the Atlanta 47, Ryan is sacked and fumbles… and the Saints recover!!
Mother F@*ker!! The play is challenged and overturned (Ryan’s arm was ruled to be moving forward when hit).
Huzzah!! When play resumes, Ryan misses Roddy White twice, including a 4th-and-10. The Saints get the ball back with 1:42 left. I actually allow myself a somewhat restrained first pump…
Mother F@*ker!! …which clearly irks the Fantasy Football Gods, who decide to teach me a lesson about chicken counting. The Saints don’t even go three-and-out. Instead, Mike Bell does his Beanie Wells impression and fumbles the ball at the 46 yard line. The Saints take up a whopping 19 seconds. Falcons’ ball with 1:23 to go.
Huzzah!! The Falcons march downfield without so much as looking White’s way, ending up with a field goal. Onside kick time. All the Saints have to do it fall on it…
Mother F@*ker!! Consider the bed shat on. Saints cough up the kick, giving the Roddy Whites (I mean, the Falcons) one more shot.
Huzzah!! After an incompletion, Ryan heaves the ball downfield in hopes of a miracle catch by Roddy White. The ball hangs in the air for 20-30 minutes, only to end up in the arms of my new favorite player, Darren Sharper (who was my least favorite player only a few minutes earlier, when he let a sure INT slip through his hands). Game over.
Mother F@*ker!! I have to play again next week.
My heart can’t take this.
Left Brain chimes in: “This is not a healthy pastime. You really need to think about quitting after this game – go out on a good note, at least.
Phooey, I say. Right Brain, let him have it.
But Right Brain stared sheepishly at his medulla oblongata. “Sorry, dude… I have to agree this time. I mean, I almost exploded during this game. Where’s the fun in that?”
But thankfully, as weak as he was, Heart gave a thumbs up… “one more week” he whispered.
One more week, indeed. I’m 3-5, baby. The comeback starts now!
God help me.
****
A few other brief, random notes from this weekend’s activity…
Tough week for owners of Houston players. First, Steve Slaton gets yanked and then Owen Daniels goes down for the season. I know what you’re thinking: if you have Andre Johnson, should you be worried?
Let me answer that in three parts:
Steve Slaton: I tried to tell you all the way back around Draft time that Slaton was going be trouble this year. As my brother said in our Draft Recap: “I hated the Slaton pick. I hated him last year too – but this year, reports are that he looks sluggish, they are taking touches away from him, and he’s losing goal line carries. I was staying away from him at all costs.” Maybe he comes back, maybe he doesn’t… but if you’re not preparing to sit him and/or pick up Ryan Moats on the waiver wire, you so crazy.
Owen Daniels: Nothing I can say here other than that sucks, dude. Daniels was a monster this season – the top scoring tight end and as much as a sure thing as you can have at that position. And as much as it absolutely pains me to say it… wait a sec…
[frantically scouring the waiver wire for a better suggestion…]
[sigh]
I guess this means people will finally start picking up Jeremy Shockey, the least liked player in the entire league.
Andre Johnson: The guy was coughing up blood as a result of the San Francisco game, and even that didn’t stop him. I’m pretty sure you have to shoot him to keep him out of the lineup at this point. But keep in mind that Kevin Walter’s lack of productivity and Daniels’ injury puts more attention on him, so he may have some trouble putting up his usual numbers right now.
****
Best quote of the weekend came from Andrew Siciliano of The Red Zone Channel: “There’s JaMarcus Russell, wearing a wool cap in the 80 degree weather. I guess his brain doesn’t generate any heat…”
****
It should be part of the NFL’s contract that every time Vernon Davis scores a touchdown, they have to show a closeup of him after he takes his helmet off. That dude has the best hair since Christopher “Kid” Reid.
****
Sell em…
- Matt Forte – I know I said he was dead last week. But this Sunday was merely a death rattle… I mean, sure it was nice he scored two TDs against one of the worst teams in the league. But he still needed 26 carries to get 90 yards, man. That’s not even 3 ½ yards per. With the rough road Chicago has ahead, I’m telling you now, sell this guy off before he puts up four straight games of sub-60 yard efforts and no TDs.
- LaDanian Tomlinson – This was as good as it gets, people.
- Kevin Smith –Tthat shoulder isn’t going to get better any time this season, is it…
****
Oh, and before we go… a quick random pull from the mailbag.
“I don’t have a question. I just wanted to say hi… y’know, in case you thought I was dead.” (Cal Johnson, Detroit)
[banging my head against the desk]
See you next week…
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