Okay so it's more bazooka this time.
Tonight's loosely football-related event involving the Washington Redskins and Arizona Cardinals is the reason there is a "hate" component to my relationship with preseason.
Backups' backups will line up opposite backups' backups.
There will be no gameplanning.
There will be no setup, sequencing, or flow to playcalling.
There will be no schematic adjustments.
After the first couple of possessions, there will be few names, faces or numbers on the field anyone will recognize. Which matters little because by Saturday evening after final roster cuts, we won't need to.
There will be even less reason than the last three weeks for any rational person on the sidelines, booths or playing field to give a genus rattus' empennage about the scoreboard at any point during the course of the evening.
Most of the players on the field tonight will have one thought in mind: lane discipline my ass, I'm making a play.
It's the Arizona Cardinals...without Kurt "Is My Wife Watching?" Warner.
It starts at 10 o'clock p.m.
My alarm goes off at 5:30 tomorrow morning.
I'm turning 50 in six weeks.
Wish list for tonight?
2) Don't forget to thank someone I didn't have to fly to Phoenix.
1) Don't let anyone even remotely likely to make the final roster get anything worse than a scraped elbow, sore pinky or bruised ego.
Yes, the NFL scheduled it. Yes, it's going to be on television. Which means at least one sap (me) is going to not only be watching but actually trying to pay attention, from start to finish, because he has committed to doing another stream-of-consciousness recap.
But I gotta tell ya, if I wasn't, tonight would be a sapling falling in the proverbial woods with no one around to verify its auditory footprint.
I mean, it's not like you are going to be watching.