The wearin' o' the green
Ahhh, bliss.
Today, dear reader, is a time for quiet celebration and the wearin' o' the green. For today the Jets play the Colts for an opportunity to go to the Super Bowl. Go figure. Today, dear reader, everyone is Irish. On some level.
Somewhere in storage is my Jets blanket. A Christmas present from my children many years ago, it is the only piece of sports paraphernalia I have. I take that back--I might have a Phil Simms autograph someplace, also obtained by one of my daughters and presented to me, but I don't have a clue where it might be.
All that said, we live in a cold, hard world. Good, in the short- and medium-term, oftentimes does not prevail over evil (even the most cursory examination of health care reform tells you everything you need to know about that). I have every reason to believe that the Colts, still angry about Game 15, will bludgeon the boys in Green into submission and that the game will be decided by no later than the half. I think they will then win the Super Bowl too, and then Eli's big brother will, again, have one more ring than he does. Which, in its own way, is good news for Big Blue.
But none of the win/loss stuff matters, really, when you are playing with house money. Which is how I would describe the Jets. My plan is to lie back, watch the game, drink a beer, stir the lentil soup with smoked turkey I'm making, and let the moment wash over me like warm Caribbean waves on a secluded beach.
Ahhh, bliss. And imagine if the Jets did win. I would definitely go find my blanket.
Today, dear reader, is a time for quiet celebration and the wearin' o' the green. For today the Jets play the Colts for an opportunity to go to the Super Bowl. Go figure. Today, dear reader, everyone is Irish. On some level.
Somewhere in storage is my Jets blanket. A Christmas present from my children many years ago, it is the only piece of sports paraphernalia I have. I take that back--I might have a Phil Simms autograph someplace, also obtained by one of my daughters and presented to me, but I don't have a clue where it might be.
All that said, we live in a cold, hard world. Good, in the short- and medium-term, oftentimes does not prevail over evil (even the most cursory examination of health care reform tells you everything you need to know about that). I have every reason to believe that the Colts, still angry about Game 15, will bludgeon the boys in Green into submission and that the game will be decided by no later than the half. I think they will then win the Super Bowl too, and then Eli's big brother will, again, have one more ring than he does. Which, in its own way, is good news for Big Blue.
But none of the win/loss stuff matters, really, when you are playing with house money. Which is how I would describe the Jets. My plan is to lie back, watch the game, drink a beer, stir the lentil soup with smoked turkey I'm making, and let the moment wash over me like warm Caribbean waves on a secluded beach.
Ahhh, bliss. And imagine if the Jets did win. I would definitely go find my blanket.
posted by Geoffrey at 7:33 AM
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