Parcells and Jones relationship only certainty in NFL
They tell me I will graduate in May. Yippee. They had better still be saying that when I pay my credit card bill with the $827 worth of books for this semester on it. Anyway, welcome back, I suppose, for the last time. *Sniffle*.
On to bigger and better things, like tuna. Tuna is back, bigger and badder than ever before. Of course, I’m not talking about Starkist’s new family fun-time ton o’ tuna value bowl, but Bill Parcells.
A prize to the one who can guess how many times Jerry Jones can come down on the sidelines before Parcells goes insane. And how long will he put up with the bat phone that goes straight from Jones’ office into the coaches’ office? Only the lord and savior Alonzo Highsmith can tell.
Seriously though, I really think that this has a legitimate shot at working. Parcells knows exactly what he is getting into, and so does Jones. Jerry has finally realized that losing is bad for business, and eventually you are going to run out of gimmicks to sell tickets.
Kudos to the Tuna for keeping Mike Zimmer as defensive coordinator, who somehow despite having cornerbacks that couldn’t shut down Stephen Hawking at wide receiver, has managed to mold an upper crust defense. Some of the pieces are in place on offense as well. If Antonio Bryant can mature and Galloway and Rocket can stay healthy the Cowboys have a receiving corp that can outrun anything. Plus Parcells, at 61, would not have taken the job if he thought there was nothing to work with here.
As for the rest of the NFL these days, I don’t know if I can remember a time when I had no clue who I thought was going to win either of the conference championship games.
Every point for one team has a counterpoint for the other. You say the Bucs have a great defense, then counter with the Eagles, who have Donovan McNabb.
Then you can counter that with the Bucs shutting down Michael Vick, and shoot right back with no matter what he did this season, Vick is still no McNabb. It’s a tortuous swirl of mind numbing arguments with myself that make me look crazy when other people see me. Kind of like Fight Club, except I don’t punch myself in the ear.
However, there must be a winner and a loser every week, so I am going to use my skills that have become finely toned on SMU’s favorite radio show The Mess Around, and work the old picking magic.
If the Raiders-Titans matchup, I am going to go with Tennessee. Every time I want a team to win this season, they blow it. Every time a team I hate is playing, they win. Therefore, the Titans are the pick with Eddie George rushing for 47 yards on 31 carries.
I have to give props to Steve McNair though, who has really come out and proven himself worthy this season of the “Air McNair” mantle. As for the Eagles-Bucs game, I can’t use this method for I equally despise both of these teams. However, the alignment of the dirty clothes on my floor seems to form the shape of a giant, drunk man cheering for the career-ending injury of someone. Therefore, I must go with the Eagles at the last game in the Vet, even though I shall never pick them for anything ever again unless contraction becomes an issue in the NFL.
Now, I’m off to have a tuna fish sandwich with my plastic surgeon. Badda-bing!
