The first-team offense and defense were supposed to come out of the gates, punch the Bucs in the mouth, have a sandwich and a blowjob and call it a day. Instead, they came out and proceeded to shit all over themselves with their abhorrent play.
The first-team defense could not stop Byron Fucking Leftwich from looking like Johnny Fucking Unitas. It took the first-team offense pretty much the entire first half to convert a goddamn first down. For all their hard-hitting potential, the safeties looked absolutely lost against a pretty shitty Bucs receiving corps. The defensive line could not wrap up running backs or get enough pressure on Leftwich when it counted. And the special teams coverage unit? Holy fuckbuckets awful!
Then the lightning came. And the game was delayed for 45 minutes. And when the Fins came back on the field.... well, they still played like shit. But not total shit. So there's that.
-- This team has two weeks left to get their shit together before they start playing real games against teams far better than the crappy-ass Buccaneers. The run blocking needs to get better, or we're fucked.
-- The defensive front is supposed to be the strength of our D, yet they were absolutely man-handled by the Tampa offensive line.
-- I am very worried about our secondary. Yes, they can knock the shit out of anybody. But the lack of cover-speed in the safeties and the lack of experience in the corners could mean we're in for some long afternoons.
-- The special teams coverage unit sucks harder than Armando at a pool party. This was a problem early last year. Soooo what the fuck?
-- The pass protection was sporadic all night. But when given time to throw, Chad Pennington absolutely gunned the shit out of the football. The rumors of his arm looking stronger seem to be true.
-- Brian Hartline is the tits! The tits, I say!
-- Greg Camarillo seems to be just fine.
-- Tony Sparano is not afraid to bark at dudes when they fuck up. What a far cry from the days when Wannstedt would run his hands through his hair, or when Saban would walk around with that permanent shitty "can't wait to get out of here and yell at some college kids" look on his face, or when Cam Cameron would weep. We're in good hands with Coach Sparano, Nation. I take solace in that.
A weird, ugly win. But a win, nonetheless. Like nailing Paris Hilton. Even though she's a lazy-eyed, knock-kneed Golem, you still get to tell your friends that you nailed Paris Hilton. Score!
And I don't think I've ever been that emotional during a preseason game. I mean I was in mid-season form: throwing shit at the TV, throwing my hands in the air in disgust, dropping more F-bombs than an old Redd Foxx record.... it was kinda awesome, actually.
So this is what it feels like to have expectations. Hmm......