The line for the Jets-Miami game tonight (NYJ laying 2.5) is based on last week's outcomes, so let's quickly review: 1-3 Miami has their only win from Buffalo, the same Buffalo that gave Cleveland its first W yesterday in a 6-3 loss. The Jets are 3-1, their one loss coming from the undefeated Saints. Hmm...
The game will boil down to two things: Miami knows how to run the ball, but the Jets' physical D is on a strict Rex Ryan diet where they are allowed to eat only running backs for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Yes, that is how Sexy Rexy keeps his svelte figure. The second element is Sanchez and whether he can rebound from his mistakes in NoLa. Maybe Braylon Edwards is the key to boosting the offense, or maybe the trade itself is enough to boost Sanchez's confidence and loosens him up in the pocket. Either way, I'm laying the points.
Oh yeah, for further breakdown of the Jets' sick D, and some mouthwatering clips of Bart Scott, check out today's issue at http://dailytailgate.com/current
Monday, October 12, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
Let's Talk About Rex, Baby
It's one thing to tell Bill Belichick you're not scared of his jewelry and then hold the Pats to three measly filed goals. But the slickest move Coach Ryan made was responding to Singletary's claims of tampering with Crabtree: "I wish we could play them." Deny the accusation, and then threaten them with better football! I love it. That's the classy way to swing your big D around. D as in defense, obviously...
Friday, September 18, 2009
Rex Ryan's New York Jews...
I mean Jets... errr... I can only imagine the puzzled look on Rex Ryan's face when someone pointed out the season home opener against the Pats was also on the high holy day of Rosh Hashana (the Jewish New Year). Desperate voicemail calls were made to all season ticket holders besieging them to show up, but perhaps a better strategy would be to follow Bob Kraft to synagogue on Saturday. Big Bob obviously has a direct line to the Big Guy. I mean how else do you explain Tom Brady AND saying no to Bernie Madoff? No one is just that lucky.
My pick this week is the Bills over the Bucs. Partially in reward to my favorite reality TV queen, Tyrell Tequila Owens, who managed not to say anything boneheaded and newsworthy this week - leaving that business to fish stick loving rappers, hall of fame inductees, and tennis players apparently... But mostly because I think he and Edwards will take advantage of the Tampa secondary, where Gruden's exit seems to have left some wide holes. (As for that trade, Bucs zero, Monday Night Football one.) But if you're shaky about laying the points with an 0-1 team then go with the over (37.5) on the Pitt-Chicago game. With Urlacher and Polamalu out, both teams should be able to sneak a few extra TDs in there.
My pick this week is the Bills over the Bucs. Partially in reward to my favorite reality TV queen, Tyrell Tequila Owens, who managed not to say anything boneheaded and newsworthy this week - leaving that business to fish stick loving rappers, hall of fame inductees, and tennis players apparently... But mostly because I think he and Edwards will take advantage of the Tampa secondary, where Gruden's exit seems to have left some wide holes. (As for that trade, Bucs zero, Monday Night Football one.) But if you're shaky about laying the points with an 0-1 team then go with the over (37.5) on the Pitt-Chicago game. With Urlacher and Polamalu out, both teams should be able to sneak a few extra TDs in there.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Old Crushes Die Hard
It's not easy to stay angry at Brett Favre. He can't help being Big Papa Football - covering the spread, tackling Percy Harvin in the end zone to celebrate the kid's first pro touchdown, wearing Wranglers instead of designer jeans barely looser than mine... I would still trade Mark Sanchez's GQ looks for a bulbous nose and crooked jaw, but he is slowly gaining my trust. For the first time, instead of seeing Vinnie Chase playing dress-up in a jersey, I saw a quarterback. And he brought out the best in his Entourage. Thomas Jones, Jericho Cotchery and Leon Washington were smokin' hot, and it's a lot easier to win games when you actually have a defense. Bart Scott is a beast, and I love him.
As for tonight, I like the over at 47.5 on the Bills-Pats game. The return of Tom Brady in Foxboro should be absolutely explosive, but I don't like to lay so many points in the first week. Even if teams like the Lions and Chiefs eventually folded yesterday, they held up to the very last second. So I would take the over - which is basically a bet on Brady, but leaves room for the Bills to surprise me.
As for tonight, I like the over at 47.5 on the Bills-Pats game. The return of Tom Brady in Foxboro should be absolutely explosive, but I don't like to lay so many points in the first week. Even if teams like the Lions and Chiefs eventually folded yesterday, they held up to the very last second. So I would take the over - which is basically a bet on Brady, but leaves room for the Bills to surprise me.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
The Bitch is Back
The spreads might be as wide as Andre Smith's ass, but I'm having trouble calling many games this week. Coming out of an off-season where a record eleven coaches were fired and big talent shifted all over the place, how can you tell what kind of chemistry any team has before Sunday?
One QB shift does sting more than the rest. After the runaround Favre gave Gang Green I'd love to see the Cleveland Browns blitz him a new butt-hole, but somehow I don't think they're quite ferocious enough to rush him into real retirement. With Brett tossing to Bernard Berrian, who led the Vikings with 964 yards last season, and handing off to Adrien Peterson, he looks formidable. Even more so against the 4-12 Browns led by Ole Mangenius himself. Laying less than a field goal, I had to put my money on Minnesota, even if it means I can't respect myself anymore. Who am I kidding? I lost my self-respect in high school, I mean college, I mean... uhhh... Happy opening day!
One QB shift does sting more than the rest. After the runaround Favre gave Gang Green I'd love to see the Cleveland Browns blitz him a new butt-hole, but somehow I don't think they're quite ferocious enough to rush him into real retirement. With Brett tossing to Bernard Berrian, who led the Vikings with 964 yards last season, and handing off to Adrien Peterson, he looks formidable. Even more so against the 4-12 Browns led by Ole Mangenius himself. Laying less than a field goal, I had to put my money on Minnesota, even if it means I can't respect myself anymore. Who am I kidding? I lost my self-respect in high school, I mean college, I mean... uhhh... Happy opening day!
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Marking His Territory
Mark Sanchez is on his way to being a bona fide New Yorker. He threw the first pitch at Citi field last night and even rode the subway! I'm thrilled that Gang Green was able to nab the top rated QB - hell, any QB. If Thomas Jones agrees to a contract and we pick up any decent receiver in the next four months, there might yet be reason for '09 optimism. I foresee just one problem...
Sanchez is fucking hot. Six-two, 230 pounds, dark locks peaking out of a Jets cap over his tanned Cali skin... shit, even I think less about some beastly safety plowing him and more about him plowing me. Considering the performances of pre-Jessica Romo vs post-Jessica Romo or A-Rod before and after Madonna, I worry that some Us Magazine hussy will ruin his career before it even starts. My advice? Woody Johnson should plant one of his goombas on Sanchez's next subway ride and mug him. After all, nothing says welcome to New York like a good, old fashioned hold-up. Not too serious of a face-smashing of course, just a broken nose and a couple missing teeth before one of the Olsen twins gets a hold of him and we're back to optioning Brad Smith.
Sanchez is fucking hot. Six-two, 230 pounds, dark locks peaking out of a Jets cap over his tanned Cali skin... shit, even I think less about some beastly safety plowing him and more about him plowing me. Considering the performances of pre-Jessica Romo vs post-Jessica Romo or A-Rod before and after Madonna, I worry that some Us Magazine hussy will ruin his career before it even starts. My advice? Woody Johnson should plant one of his goombas on Sanchez's next subway ride and mug him. After all, nothing says welcome to New York like a good, old fashioned hold-up. Not too serious of a face-smashing of course, just a broken nose and a couple missing teeth before one of the Olsen twins gets a hold of him and we're back to optioning Brad Smith.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Will Put Out for QB
After a month of post break-up surfing and salsa dancing in South America, I finally stripped off my tattered number four mourning jersey. It seems that I came back to New York just in the nick of time. The hunt for Jay Cutler is on, and I want him badly. The whole mature older guy thing was fun for a while, but it is so last season. Now the hottest guy in school is officially single, and, like, I am totally crushing on him.
But can Gang Green possibly snag JC before some hotter team gets their slutty hands all over him? The Jets' first three draft picks sit low at 17, 52 and 76. They have no veteran quarterback to swap out – I mean, no one’s really dreaming that Kellen Clemens is going to ask them to the prom. I offer this piece of advice to the green powers that be: put out. This is no time for fallacious chastity. Sexy Rexy Ryan has done a great job stacking the defense, and for the most part the offensive line remains in tact. The only missing piece is a quarterback, so there's absolutely no reason to pretend you're saving that precious gift for someone truly special. This is the hottest guy you are ever going to get, so dig deep into your pants pockets... and spread 'em.
But can Gang Green possibly snag JC before some hotter team gets their slutty hands all over him? The Jets' first three draft picks sit low at 17, 52 and 76. They have no veteran quarterback to swap out – I mean, no one’s really dreaming that Kellen Clemens is going to ask them to the prom. I offer this piece of advice to the green powers that be: put out. This is no time for fallacious chastity. Sexy Rexy Ryan has done a great job stacking the defense, and for the most part the offensive line remains in tact. The only missing piece is a quarterback, so there's absolutely no reason to pretend you're saving that precious gift for someone truly special. This is the hottest guy you are ever going to get, so dig deep into your pants pockets... and spread 'em.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Breaking Up is Hard to Do
Preach it Neil Sedaka, break-ups suck. Always. They're sad and they're messy... but there are classy ways to break someone's heart and then there is an EMAIL!!!
Brett Favre, grow a pair! You retire every year, and every year we pretend to believe you. We cry at your cheesy goodbye Superbowl commercials, we put you on the cover of Madden and then, like lovesick puppies, we welcome you back with open arms. Now all we get is an email??
Maybe you thought you could sneak this behind all the MLB drama, but you've been caught with your wranglers down and we are pissed. There are fire sales all over Jersey selling number 4 jerseys for ten cents on the dollar. I mean, were you really that ashamed to retire as a Jet? You just had to act like the 2008 season never even happened. Well we want our own tearful press conference and some version of "it's not you, it's me"! Hell, A-Rod even mustered up an "If I can't be honest with myself, how could I be honest with Katie Couric."
It hurts Brett. It really hurts.
Brett Favre, grow a pair! You retire every year, and every year we pretend to believe you. We cry at your cheesy goodbye Superbowl commercials, we put you on the cover of Madden and then, like lovesick puppies, we welcome you back with open arms. Now all we get is an email??
Maybe you thought you could sneak this behind all the MLB drama, but you've been caught with your wranglers down and we are pissed. There are fire sales all over Jersey selling number 4 jerseys for ten cents on the dollar. I mean, were you really that ashamed to retire as a Jet? You just had to act like the 2008 season never even happened. Well we want our own tearful press conference and some version of "it's not you, it's me"! Hell, A-Rod even mustered up an "If I can't be honest with myself, how could I be honest with Katie Couric."
It hurts Brett. It really hurts.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
February is the Cruelest Month
With 216 days to go until the 2009 NFL season begins, I find myself, as I do every February, suffering from football withdrawal. Chills, cold sweats, angry outbursts, stomach pains, extreme fatigue and total lack of motivation will be my future unless I quickly find a new hobby or a crack pipe.
My first activity will be to challenge Bill Simmons. Calling the first three quarters of Superbowl XLII a "snooze fest" totally blows my mind. Sure, there was a stretch of painstaking penalties that made you wonder which referee on the way to the stadium had run into Nicki the Icepick, a 250 lb horse of a man with a ticket in his hand that spelled 'Pittsburgh -7' in blood... but Billy were you even watching the game? Did you see Darnell Dockett's blowout performance, Warner's arm rocket its way through an 83 yard touchdown drive or any of Big Ben Balboa's third down conversions, so perfectly pitched under pressure they almost looked choreographed? And where were you for the last minutes of the first half when Roethlisberger's would be game blowing interception was followed by Warner's actually game blowing interception in the end zone as Harrison ran the ball back 100 yards for a Steelers touchdown??? Billy, I generally heart your BS report, but this one was truly, well, BS. You really lost all credibility when you knocked the Troy Polamalu/Joe Greene throwback commercial. It was genius - I laughed, I cried, I would have shattered a glass bra.
Still I wonder what will be become of me. It's too late for me to become an amateur porn star for my ten seconds of fourth quarter fame. For those of you out-of-the-know salty sports fans, this Sunday it was actually acceptable to wish you lived outside New York, specifically in the Tucson area, where after a Fitzgerald TD, cable rewarded its local fans by accidentally airing thirty seconds of hard core porn. They even threw in some full frontal male nudity for the bored girlfriends and wives that had spent the evening cooing over Bruce Springsteen and refilling the cheese dip.
But adult entertainment aspirations aside, I ask please for advice on how to make it through the winter. No suggestion is too ridiculous. Right now all the future seems to hold for me is sitting on the couch with Michael Phelps as we get blazed, munch out on what remains of Mike Holmgren since Ed Reed ate him, and watch LT paralyze an unsuspecting Lisa Rinna on Dancing with the Stars. For the love of god, your country and all that is holy, will somebody please make sure she knows who Joe Theisman is!
Meanwhile... send suggestions, send blankets, send kind words... let us brace the cold winter together.
My first activity will be to challenge Bill Simmons. Calling the first three quarters of Superbowl XLII a "snooze fest" totally blows my mind. Sure, there was a stretch of painstaking penalties that made you wonder which referee on the way to the stadium had run into Nicki the Icepick, a 250 lb horse of a man with a ticket in his hand that spelled 'Pittsburgh -7' in blood... but Billy were you even watching the game? Did you see Darnell Dockett's blowout performance, Warner's arm rocket its way through an 83 yard touchdown drive or any of Big Ben Balboa's third down conversions, so perfectly pitched under pressure they almost looked choreographed? And where were you for the last minutes of the first half when Roethlisberger's would be game blowing interception was followed by Warner's actually game blowing interception in the end zone as Harrison ran the ball back 100 yards for a Steelers touchdown??? Billy, I generally heart your BS report, but this one was truly, well, BS. You really lost all credibility when you knocked the Troy Polamalu/Joe Greene throwback commercial. It was genius - I laughed, I cried, I would have shattered a glass bra.
Still I wonder what will be become of me. It's too late for me to become an amateur porn star for my ten seconds of fourth quarter fame. For those of you out-of-the-know salty sports fans, this Sunday it was actually acceptable to wish you lived outside New York, specifically in the Tucson area, where after a Fitzgerald TD, cable rewarded its local fans by accidentally airing thirty seconds of hard core porn. They even threw in some full frontal male nudity for the bored girlfriends and wives that had spent the evening cooing over Bruce Springsteen and refilling the cheese dip.
But adult entertainment aspirations aside, I ask please for advice on how to make it through the winter. No suggestion is too ridiculous. Right now all the future seems to hold for me is sitting on the couch with Michael Phelps as we get blazed, munch out on what remains of Mike Holmgren since Ed Reed ate him, and watch LT paralyze an unsuspecting Lisa Rinna on Dancing with the Stars. For the love of god, your country and all that is holy, will somebody please make sure she knows who Joe Theisman is!
Meanwhile... send suggestions, send blankets, send kind words... let us brace the cold winter together.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
The Carpet Bowl
Go Cards! While sports fans complain that tonight might be the most boring blowout Superbowl ever, and rumors fly that the Terrible Towel waivers down in Tampa outnumber the Cards' fans ten to one, I am busting open my piggy bank to put my money on the underdogs. Zona has a seasoned QB who can handle the Blitzburg pressure and some stellar wide receivers. They should put some points on the board so long as Warner wasn't up all night taking hits with Michael Phelps from the Olympic megabong and starts to confuse Troy Polamalu's curls with Larry Fitzgerald's dreadlocks... or a giant purple lizard.
The real x-factor tonight will be Big Ben's performance. To quote TSN.com's NFL editor, "Bruises tell stories", and Ben's been sacked by jacked defensive ends almost as many times as Kim Kardashian. The last time Ben faced the Cardinals he threw two interceptions and lost by a touchdown. Still, the kid's got an arm, and he keeps the play going. So pop the tray of mini hotdogs into the oven, break out of the first of too many Coors cans and let the game begin. Maybe the beat-up QB can pull a Rocky IV and make Warner look like the Russian.
The real x-factor tonight will be Big Ben's performance. To quote TSN.com's NFL editor, "Bruises tell stories", and Ben's been sacked by jacked defensive ends almost as many times as Kim Kardashian. The last time Ben faced the Cardinals he threw two interceptions and lost by a touchdown. Still, the kid's got an arm, and he keeps the play going. So pop the tray of mini hotdogs into the oven, break out of the first of too many Coors cans and let the game begin. Maybe the beat-up QB can pull a Rocky IV and make Warner look like the Russian.
Monday, January 12, 2009
The Blame Game
Honestly, I'm not usually one to be down on New York teams once mine is out of the running, but I've got to gripe about the Monday morning coverage of the Giants' loss to the Eagles. It seems like every blue columnist or blogger has their panties in a bunch searching for the obscure reason their boys lost when they should just reach up and pull out the G-men G-string that is so highly wedged up their asses. So here is some advice from a tired and true fan who is somewhat more used to her team, well, sucking.
Stop playing the blame game.
Stop blaming Plaxico. Its been over a month since the star receiver learned that the best place to keep a loaded gun is apparently not the elastic waste band of his sweatpants. There is no such thing as a one man team in football. Otherwise the post-Brady Pats never could have eked out a decent season, and the good folk of Carolina would be burning effigies of Steve Smith instead of Delhomme.
Stop blaming the wind that both teams had to play against or the dumb expression on Eli Manning's face. Granted the kid looks like he'd spell his own name wrong, but as far as dumb quarterbacks go... did you not see Mcnabb pick up the phone on the Giants' sidelines? Nuff said.
Stop whining already, and face reality. Maybe the Giants lost because the they couldn't convert on 4th down. Twice. Or maybe they lost because they couldn't stop an imperfect but unflappable Mcnabb. It's tough to take a loss... trust me, I know. I bleed Green. But do yourself a favor, grab a copy of "He's Just Not That Into You" and learn to take an 'L'.
Stop playing the blame game.
Stop blaming Plaxico. Its been over a month since the star receiver learned that the best place to keep a loaded gun is apparently not the elastic waste band of his sweatpants. There is no such thing as a one man team in football. Otherwise the post-Brady Pats never could have eked out a decent season, and the good folk of Carolina would be burning effigies of Steve Smith instead of Delhomme.
Stop blaming the wind that both teams had to play against or the dumb expression on Eli Manning's face. Granted the kid looks like he'd spell his own name wrong, but as far as dumb quarterbacks go... did you not see Mcnabb pick up the phone on the Giants' sidelines? Nuff said.
Stop whining already, and face reality. Maybe the Giants lost because the they couldn't convert on 4th down. Twice. Or maybe they lost because they couldn't stop an imperfect but unflappable Mcnabb. It's tough to take a loss... trust me, I know. I bleed Green. But do yourself a favor, grab a copy of "He's Just Not That Into You" and learn to take an 'L'.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Schattenheimerfreude
Well, I missed the OT Indy loss to San Diego last night because I was doing the chicken dance with my grandmother, but it's all okay now. I feel so much better having watched the Ravens' defense make minced meat out of Chad Pennington. Reading the Fish fans bitch and moan on ESPN.com's Fanzone about their flaccid QB was oh so reminiscent and gratifyingly evil.
Which brings to be my main point. DolphinDiehard29 and MiamiMonstar aren't the only delusional fans hitting the blogs. The gang green posts claim the only reason Bill Cowher didn't leave his cushy newsman job to coach the Jets was because we didn't toss Favre. Right... and the reason your super hot girlfriend only carries singles is because she moonlights as a vending machine stocker. Wake up and smell your stripper girlfriend's cheap rose scented panties. We're the red headed step-children of New York sports fans. Stop whining, and pray that big daddy Marty Schottenheimer is feeling paternal enough to adopt our orphaned asses.
Which brings to be my main point. DolphinDiehard29 and MiamiMonstar aren't the only delusional fans hitting the blogs. The gang green posts claim the only reason Bill Cowher didn't leave his cushy newsman job to coach the Jets was because we didn't toss Favre. Right... and the reason your super hot girlfriend only carries singles is because she moonlights as a vending machine stocker. Wake up and smell your stripper girlfriend's cheap rose scented panties. We're the red headed step-children of New York sports fans. Stop whining, and pray that big daddy Marty Schottenheimer is feeling paternal enough to adopt our orphaned asses.
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