Coach from the Couch: And Then There Were Four

Having a week off in the NFL prior to the playoffs does not appear to be all that great after all.  Sure you get to rest your players, recover from injuries, etc, but two of the four rested teams are now resting until next year, while the other two that didn’t get any rest move on.  I guess those are 50-50 odds, and if you had your choice of sitting on your can with Jessica Simpson for a week over, say, getting chased by 300-pound people who are intent on turning you into grass fertilizer you probably wouldn’t pick the latter.

Eight teams remained this past weekend, so only four sets of NFL fans would still be vested in this years playoffs, with the rest of us watching just because it is more fun than, well basically anything else you could think of that would require your rear planted firmly on a couch two straight days with face paint and no shirt, yelling at a box on the wall as if all the things you were doing would somehow determine the outcome of the game, and then, taking credit for it when it appeared as such.   

There is nothing more satisfying than sitting on the couch, eating chips, drinking beer, and yelling, “Here comes a fumble” and then it happens.  It is the ultimate of all sports-related drinking/couch established/fan-based principles.  It also only works if you yell it once in a blue moon, not every play. It's like betting box cars at the craps table every roll.  You definitely aren’t going to make money like that, but once in a while, you throw a green chip on the double 12's, and sure enough it comes up.  That is karma.  You yell fumble only once in a blue moon, and it happens, your friends get you beer from the fridge.  But I digress…

The best game on the board was a toss-up between both Sunday contests, primarily because both were upsets, and both were close.  The finest football in all the land goes to San Diego or Indianapolis because of the amount of injuries San Diego overcame in the win.  If someone were to tell you that LaDainian Tomlinson and Philip Rivers would both be riding the pine due to injuries, and San Diego would trot out a quarterback that sounded like a bad guy on Star Trek named Volek, and a running back named Turner, you’d definitely not even think once about saying “NO!!” to betting on San Diego, yet that is precisely what happened Sunday.  The Chargers overcame almost an entire half of football without either of its top gentlemen.  Realistically, Indianapolis should have had the makings for a blowout, but the Colts did not even win!   

They did, however, lead with 4:50 remaining in the game.  Read this close, because I can’t ever imagine it will be typed in a sports column again, in come Volek and Turner.  San Diego drives 78 yards in eight plays on a Indy defense that was stellar in its Super Bowl run a year ago, capping the drive with a touchdown.  Even at this point, mighty Peyton Manning and the Colts offense actually had TWO, count ‘em TWO possessions they could have taken the lead on, and both times San Diego pressured Peyton Manning into looking pedestrian, and Holy Moley Tootsie Rollie, the CHARGERS escape Indianapolis with the win 28-24.  They move on to face New England in the AFC Championship game.  Both Rivers and Tomlinson declared they will play next week, and Norv Turner pushes his hair to the side yet again in triumph, this day being by far his closest thing to a Ferris Beuhler day-off ever in his NFL coaching career.  Marty Schottenheimer sits on his couch and wonders why no one will ever win for him in the playoffs.

The next best game on the board was also played on Sunday as the New York Giants took on the number one seed Dallas Cowboys for the right to move on.  On Dallas’s side is history, no. 1 seeds from the NFC have never been knocked out of the playoffs prior to the NFC title game, so they have that going for them right?  NO!  The Giants come into the game with a decimated secondary ripe for Romo's tomato picking.  Does Tony Romo take advantage?  For awhile he did, as he and Marion Barber ride rough shot over the Giants defense for exactly one half.  Lucky for the Giants, three seconds is three seconds, and they score to tie at the end of one half of play 14-14.   

Dallas heads to the locker room scratching their heads after outplaying the Giants through thirty minutes.  The Giants come out the second half and take another hit to their already Twiggy-thin secondary, and the Cowboys should ROMP!  For some reason though, Dallas shys away from the running game that was so powerful in the first half, and goes "pass-wacky" on the banged up Giants secondary.  Makes perfect sense, but it doesn't work!  The Giants defensive front four start pressuring Romo to no end, and he does what every good quarterback that loses in the playoffs does, he tries to hard, taking a couple bad sacks that should have been thrown away.  Then, someone obviously has a long chat with him and he throws the ball away when he’s not even pressured, even worse, he’s still in the pocket, and gets called for intentional grounding.  The Giants go on to win, 21-17.  Jessica Simpson is somehow pinned with the loss although, looking through the archives, she has not involved in a single NFL play ever, and Terrell Owens cries behind giant girly sunglasses because somehow he is not just out for himself anymore, he is out to defend the honor of his QB Romo.  The Washington Post takes credit for the victory, as they send a Jessica look-a-like to sit in the third row and distract Romo by shaking a pink number nine in dramatic fashion.  You have to give credit to a woman who will risk life and limb to determine the outcome of a professional NFL contest just to prove what all men and women have known for centuries: women do have some sort of mystic powers over their male counterparts, even if said woman is an impostor.  Wade Phillips ends up being a lot more articulate at the post game press conference than he looks, even in defeat.  A banged up Giants squad heads to Green Bay sporting an amazing road victory record.

Speaking of Green Bay, how happy can a cheese head be?  A week ago, they are worrying beating a pretty good Seattle squad and then heading to Dallas, a place where their fearless leader, Brett Favre has never won and just recently returned from with a separated shoulder a few short weeks ago.  At the end of  weekend, they have the best possible outcome the weekend could possibly bring: 1) they will advance thanks to snow and frozen tundra and someone on their couch yelling “fumble!” in all the right places during the Packer contest, and 2) they don’t have to go through Dallas to do it; in fact, they get to stay at the frozen tundra, a vacation mecca for all cheese heads every where.  Suddenly, flights from Wisconsin to Dallas are empty, although none of this scenario looked like it would happen early on in the Green Bay game.  Seattle started the game with a fourteen point lead thanks to two Ryan Grant fumbles, and it appeared the route was on only four minutes into the contest.  Well, the route was on, it just ended up going in favor of the Packers.  You could hear the cry from the crowd, “hey, go ahead, spot them fourteen, we’ve got snow!” Down it came, heavy and often, as Green Bay responded just as heavy as the weather and went into the half with a 28-17 lead.  Brett Favre tied his own personal record for most touchdowns in a post season game, and seventeen, count ‘em SEVENTEEN post season games in a row with a touchdown pass, and the Packers shook off the early deficit with a 42-20 blowout of the Seattle Seahawks.  All beer factories in Wisconsin shift into overtime mode to accommodate the celebration, pre-partying, and after parties that will occur over the next week, and Cheese turns into the hat of choice for NFL fans everywhere, or at least fans that like wearing wedge shaped hats.

Finally, and with no surprise attached in the least, the New England Patriots continue their run to perfection with a 31-20 thrashing of the Jacksonville Jaguars.  Jacksonville, to their credit, went into the locker room at halftime with a 14-14 tie on the scoreboard.  The only problem?  I don’t care who you are, or who you are playing in the NFL, when the opposing quarterback turns in game stats that read : 26 of 28 passing for 262 yards passing. Uh, you are not going to win. 

Tom Brady picked the Jags apart, with little pressure applied during his surgical performance.  New England wins yet again, and faces a banged up San Diego team for the right to advance to Super Bowl roman numeral number whatever the heck it is.

The couch pillows are turned up so the dogs can suck out all the snack paraphernalia that went flying during stressful periods over the weekend, and big screen TV buying season kicks into high gear as championship week approaches.  Meanwhile in other news, Baseball gets poked in the eye as they meet yet again with politicians intent on keeping themselves from focusing on real issues, and I look in a flight magazine on an airline as HGH is advertised on a full page article available to high school or college athletes with a credit card.  Until next week, the coach from the couch signs off.