The beer: Founders Porter
The commentary: Last year at this time (I am not providing the link) I had a Berkshire Shabadoo all set to go for a second playoff contest that didn’t happen. Never again, I vowed… until I was shopping for tonight’s beer at Kappy’s this morning and couldn’t decide between options A and B. I stood staring at those bombers before remembering that no decision I made, then or ever, would affect the outcome of the game. So I walked out with a Divisional Round bomber and a presumed AFC Championship bomber. I still don’t know which is which (one of them is eleven percent alcohol, is that better in the evening or the afternoon?) but it’s a good problem to have. Unless, you know…

Demaryius Thomas. Slot him right behind Willis McGahee on the shit-that-can-go-wrong list. On Sunday I enjoyed a fine Founders while sitting slack-jawed in front of the television, wondering over and over “Who is that guy?” as Thomas made Ike Taylor repeatedly punch himself in the nuts with his own fists. Afterward Taylor tweeted “I apologize for playing the worst game at the wrong time. My goddamn nuts are killing me. Luv y’all to def. Please get me more ice.” Poor guy. Poor Patriots, too, because he would start for this team.

A lot has been made of the whole Josh McDaniels thing. It does feel a little shady—I know if the Jets tried to pull something like this then Steve DeOssie’s raw-steak complexion would turn a shade of red invisible to the naked eye—but I’m not sure how much it will matter. He might have drafted Tebow but did he ever even play him? What can he offer other than “I liked him at Florida and here’s how I would have used in in a pro offense,” which is a what-if game Belichick can already play? So I don’t see a real significance in his past association with the Broncos. (The larger issue involves the Rams expecting Sam Bradford to be able to succeed on three offensive coordinators in three years. It will be interesting to see how long it takes for him to start yelling at reporters to knock it off.) Where McDaniels does pay off is by drawing up a handful of gadget and/or quick-strike plays that potentially result in the team scoring forty-something points instead of thirty-something.

On the other foot, congratulations to Bill O’Brien for accepting a temporary position at Penn State. I was listening to Sirius NFL earlier and someone made the point that you don’t want to be the guy to replace Joe Paterno there, you want to be the guy who replaces the guy who replaced Joe Paterno. Pop culture history agrees: Jimmy Page was approached to join the Yardbirds after Eric Clapton pouted his way out of the group but he didn’t want to replace him, instead recommending his buddy Jeff Beck for the job. When the moody Beck inevitably burned himself out (after a short, stunning term that produced “Heart Full of Soul,” “Over, Under, Sideways, Down,” “Happenings Ten Years Time Ago” and other gems), Page was all in, eventually transforming what became his band into Led Zeppelin. Similarly, when NBC gave The Tonight Show to Jay Leno instead of David Letterman and then changed their minds awhile later (as documented in Bill Carter’s wonderfully salacious The Late Shift, a tantalizing book full of empty calories and remorse), Letterman arrived at the shrewd conclusion that he wouldn’t be inheriting Johnny Carson’s or Jack Paar’s Tonight Show (which he coveted) but rather a failed Tonight Show With Jay Leno. So he created The Late Show. O’Brien can’t exactly found a new university and develop a football program from scratch, but all this particular “promotion” does is white-wash Penn State’s role in the sex-abuse scandal, a scandal that will not give him a single chance to succeed as a leader of men. In two or three years, after two or three losing seasons, alumni will have forgotten about Jerry Sandusky’s crimes and will demand O’Brien’s head on a platter. Someone else steps in (more in the mold of Pete “Rah Rah” Carroll than Bill “Fuck Off” Belichick), moving forward trumps looking behind and Penn State regains its “esteem.” Bill O’Brien will be unemployable.

Prediction time? Something like 45–27 good guys. Belichick will travel to Pittsburgh to personally thank Dick LeBeau for demonstrating—throughout the entire game—which defensive scheme does not work. The Pats go big on the defensive line to try to stop the run, entrust Ninkovich to escort Tebow wherever he goes and ensure that no passes are thrown behind Chung and (probably starting at safety again) McCourty. On offense it’s all about an early lead, even if it means electing to receive should they win the coin toss. I’d like to see Ridley and Green-Ellis move the chains—the Pats have to dominate time of possession and score almost every time they have the ball, which is exactly what Denver will try to do. Mix in some big Welker, Gronkowski and Hernandez gains and give Tebow no choice but to win with his arm, then it’s all over but the shouting.

Around the league, the 49ers are up by a field goal at the half and the game could go either way, but I like the Saints to pull it out. The Ravens will end Houston’s improbable run despite more horrendous play from Joeflacco—people say Mark Sanchez hasn’t developed? And I think the G-Men will eke one out in Green Bay. Just remember that I know nothing about football.

Technicolor Web of Sound, my go-to internet radio station, has gone the way of a Remo Williams sequel. Suddenly it’s not available to stream on iTunes, the website produces an error and someone blogged of its mysterious death. I was upset at first because the station introduced me to a lot of great sixties bands like Ant Trip Ceremony, Dragonfly and especially Blue Cheer, and it’s been a part of my work day for the better part of eight years. Unfortunately the guy running it tightened up the playlist (causing it to repeat too often), focused too heavily on the Jefferson Airplane family tree and thought those old radio spots and other ephemera—including Illinois’s one-time Emergency Broadcast System test tone, for crying out loud—would continue to amuse his audience after hundreds of listens. “I can’t make it, Jim.” Well I can’t either. I’m sorry… I’ll always love you for showing me that the Monkees made some amazing music and that the Pretty Things recorded soundtracks to soft porn films under a different name. But it’s time to move on. WZBC has a reliable stream and I’m a month behind on PFW in Progress anyway.

Up next: Kick-off in two hours. Please don’t make me write a “system failure” post next week. Cheers!