The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same.

I settled in to watch the Lions game against the lowly Cleveland Browns with an ice cold six-pack of Rolling Rock expecting to be dazzled by the handiwork of Millen’s former right hand man, now turned football guru of the Detroit Lions: Martin Mayhew.

Since January, the fantasy elite have been falling over each other, giddy, weak in the knees, trembling at the sight of the mighty Mayhew.  Each move a master piece, his monolithic prowess grew with each new essay to hit Bleacher Report.  Mayhew simply could do no wrong in their eyes.   

With each passing trade or free agent signing, Mayhew’s legendary status grew, taking on mythic qualities. Like Zeus, Mayhew cast lightning bolts from his golf cart while shuttling his sugar daddy, Bill Ford, Sr. around the practice field.

The legend grew unabated until the aging product he assembled actually had to take the field in a face-to-face encounter with the Brown’s (a team that had not scored an offensive touchdown since late November of last year).  

Well, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

The Brown’s return the first kick off for a touchdown, thankfully the TD is voided via penalty – a sigh of relief can be seen on the brow of Schwartz, the latest savior who like everyone else hired by Ford is on his way out the moment he is hired.   

Five plays later the Brown’s score again. This time over the shoulder of one of Mayhew’s free agent pick- ups inserted in to the revolving door known as the defensive backfield.

Detroit’s new ‘franchise QB takes the field for his first start. As Stafford stands under his Center, foreboding covers me like the ghost of Christmas past.  Stafford drops back, throws a dart right into the hands of the defense. Forty five years of déjà vu grips me. Yes, we have been here before.

The Brown's take it in for another score. Looks like comedy hour again. The Brown’s offense looks like a battering ram; up in the booth one can hear the echo, “Ramming speed, men!” The Lion Defenders look bewildered.

Lions get the ball again, Stafford drops back, pass number two hits the hands of the Brown’s defender. 

I just finished my second Rolling Rock. Things don’t look good for the home team. The camera pans to Schwartz again. He is folding his arms tightly in a cross over his torso. His brow telegraphs body language telling us what every predecessor ill equipped for the job says. It is like a car driven over a bridge sinking slowly into the dark gloom, the light slowly fades, and so too life.

By half time, I’ve had enough. I switch on the film Ransom.  Mel Gibson is kicking the shit out of Gary Sinise. Looks like a good film.

Suddenly the metaphor sinks in. The Lions are run by a film crew. It is all done with mirrors, marketing schemas, and sleight of hand. Now you see it, now you don’t. By the time the fantasy crowd finally gets it, out with the old, in with the new. Repeat the illusions.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.