I suppose there were better things for me to do Sunday afternoon than to watch the Most Frustrating Game In the History of Mankind: build a cool fort out of old styrofoam blocks, rearrange my living room to look like a bus station, bust a nut in my cat's face, or help my big bosomed neighbor wash her SUV. Instead, I went ahead and watched the game and later regretted it deeply.
Its tough to bash Chad Pennington for this loss. He basically has receivers with the talent equivalency of Buddy Hackett and a three legged narcoleptic horse to work with. So he did a fine job, all things considered. Plus, apparently the offensive line must think he's made of iron and mortar because they let the Jets sack the guy four times. But it wasn't just the fact that the o-line looked as if it were manned by Michael Stipe, Thom York and Moby. Or the fact that Brett Favre pulled that TD to Chansi Stuckey completely out of his hillbilly ass. It was the little things that got my balls all tied up in knots:
Jake Long's two dumb-ass penalties
The offensive line's flat out refusal to open up any day light for Ricky Williams or Ronnie Brown (2.9 yards per carry? Suck a bag of dicks!)
The fact that Andre Goodman exists
The fact that our linebackers look like a gang of retard midgets when they try to cover running backs or tight ends
A dick eating kicking game
Until further notice, Ted Ginn is on my shitlist. His incessant disappearing act is driving me batshit and his tentative approach on kickoff returns is outrageously bad. Give him time? He's only a second year receiver? Fuck you with a cattle prod. We spent a high first-rounder on this cocksock, so he better step the fuck up right the fuck quick.
In the end, however, it came right back to the same old shit sandwich we get served up each and every year ballsuck coaching:
Third and goal and fourth and goal from the two and neither time do we run it? If we can't gain two fucking yards with either Ricky or Ronnie, at home, on the goal-line, then let's just pack it up right now and go frolic on a beach with Tom Brady for the rest of the year.
Either Ted Ginn or Devone Bess is your kick returner. Pick one and go with it.
Patrick Cobbs has as much business being a third down back as my Mom.
Why was Ernest Wilford dressed like me during the game?
Why didn't we compensate for the fact that the Jets blitzed on every fucking down all fucking day?!
We've seen Tony Sparano yell and scream and get into player's faces whenever they displease him on the field. But who's going to yell and scream and get into Sparano's face when he fucks up? Bag the tough guy shit and coach, asshole. Coach the shit out of this team. Just because you're the anti-Cam and can kill a man with your calves doesn't mean you're off the hook.
Oh, and this guy and his whole fucking crew can go blow themselves in an outhouse that's been set on fire.