Week one
The game: Dolphins at Patriots
The beer: Throwback Oma’s Tribute Black Lager
The result: Loss, 17–16
The method: NFL Game Pass (spoiled)
The headline: “I’d build a pyramid in your sweet memory. Would you even record my name in your diary?” – Make-Up, “Hot Coals”

The commentary: It came to me in half-sleep, slightly off: “Would you write my name in your diary?” Diary. It’s not a book, Norm, it’s a record: indeed, I return to music after two years browsing the library (fiction/nonfiction), and this hazy reminder from noted football enthusiast Ian Svenonious and 1997’s Sound Vérité, which I bought the day of its release after informing the Newbury Comics clerk that, no, it hadn’t already come out a month before (that was the live—actually live, not Destination: Love “live”—After Dark), likely kicks the keg as far as lyrical inspiration goes. Unless Ty Segall or Osees (no studio non-remix LP since last September’s Protean Threat; hopefully this resolves itself by the time I see them in Cambridge next week) write some shit about, I don’t know, the journaling habits of leopard priestesses or face stabbers. Drag.

Last year—“XI”—was an impressive WordPress beer-and-football debut. Ten posts over seventeen weeks? In an election year? During The Star Wars Holiday Special season? I’ll take it! XII—now “an eighteen-week diary (and hopefully longer)”—should meet this benchmark with anticipated success across multiple legal and legitimate knockout pools through December. Undue confidence? Perhaps. But that Bucs QB is pretty good.

Cut cords: also pretty good… unless you’re a fan of live sports. My draft coverage— “Likeable!”—was a last hurrah, the final embrace of ESPN-versus-NFL-Network luxury. And then? And then! Our Fios contract expired and was set to renew minus the shenanigan discounts I’ve managed over the years and I finally came around to A’s way of thinking: do we really need cable TV? All we watch are CNN, HGTV, the Food Network and Survivor, to which G. is also hooked. Oh… and I like to free up my autumn Sundays by recording Patriots games, watching them at night and staying off my phone in the interim to avoid scores. Freed up. But yeah, paying that much for that long over what amounts to a couple days’ worth of programming? It makes little sense, considering the (paid-for, of course) availability of HGTV+, Paramount+ (Survivor and most Pats games) and soon-to-be CNN+. Get used to those plus signs—they are our future. We still come out on top.

The ability to live-stream via Paramount+ (now that I’ve troubleshot the audio/video sync) and the free Fox Now and NBC Sports (I might learn about local blackouts the hard way with this one—quasi-legal Locast will be missed, since it’s how we watched the Olympics) apps will be a drag without a pause button but I prefer my delaying routine anyway. How now? “With NFL Game Pass you’ll get access to live game audio and replays of every game right after the final whistle.” “Right after the final whistle”? Wow! It’s like DVR with a different remote! So here I am, ten o’clock Sunday night, ready to watch some goddamn football after avoiding all headlines and texts (no spoilers there, it turns out, with Ivan only reporting “I want to be the first person to ask if Mac Jones’s receding hairline will magically fill back in like Tom’s did”), this two-and-a-half-hour-old game coming well beyond “the final whistle.” Right on! Except…

Progress bars, am I right? Sure, something might look or even be specifically labeled to be, for example, thirty percent “loaded.” Ignore for now that sometimes the first thirty percent takes five seconds, the next sixty takes three seconds and the last ten takes thirty seconds. Your math homework is all wrong. But what about when something “loads” to, say, thirty percent and then quits and returns to the previous screen, as happened every time I selected FULL GAME REPLAY? Well shit. Trial and error: Thursday’s Bucs–Cowboys worked. The earlier Bills–Steelers worked… what gives, baby? Maybe it’s a Roku thing. Maybe it’s a Pats–Dolphins thing.

Flashback to season V: Pats–Dolphins on extended delay because “the so-called recording was only watchable in some alternate reality.” That Sunday’s score was deliberately spoiled ahead of alternate Monday Night Football programming but, alas, this Sunday’s was not. You see, the Roku NFL app deselects SHOW SCORES by default, which is a conscientious nod to the customer in a way that blaming us for adding a seventeenth regular-season game is not. The Android app though? Upon checking if this fucker works on my phone? Well look at this, the Dolphins won 17–16. Boooooooooo, Roger. Boooooooooo.

(Hey, at least they went on to win it all VII years ago. Miles Davis even provided the soundtrack. There’s hope for the postseason.)

Begrudgingly, it did work on my phone, clunky interface and all. God forbid you try to fast-forward without skipping the entire first half and sub-spoiling that score at 10–10. What does it take! After suffering that awhile—though, in retrospect, the relative screen size of a phone twelve inches away is probably larger than a forty-inch TV across the room—the Roku came through after some non-zero number of FULL GAME REPLAY selections. From then on it was fairly smooth—being able to zip through commercials remains a plus (har! har!)—except for the fact I had an hour to go at one in the morning and finished with Monday Afternoon Football. My free trial—trial is right!—is expired and my customer inquiry about “right after the final whistle” availability was perfunctorily instead of satisfactorily addressed: “Game replays should be available within two to four hours of the end of the game. We appreciate your patience.” Thanks, unpaid NFL Digital Care intern! That’s one long whistle! But the Pats thankfully (?) sucked last year and have a slate of early games, which should clear the “two to four hours” needed to watch by nine o’clock. A hundred bucks well spent… for now.

You say there was a game? Eventually! “The Joker” looked pretty goddamn good after a shaky start and I don’t think I’m lying to myself—I was a cynical bastard with Brady in his prime, never mind a goofball rookie from the deep red south. I’ve even come around on Seth Wickersham’s pajamas and I might buy a ticket to hear him promote his new It’s Better to Be Right Feared at the Bull Run next month. “Many believe he will be ultimately responsible for the downfall of the Patriots, Tom Brady and Bill Belichick.” Maybe not responsible but surely prescient, eh? “He never played organized football.” The glassiest house.

I refuse to add ESPN+ to the not-cable pile for several reasons and the new Once Upon a Time in Queens series about the ’86 Mets is one of them. Despite history, a small part of me would be tempted to watch in case the Sox could manage to win game six or seven this time. (No one talks about game seven.) Just like with Major Toht’s introduction and some of the unspeakable results that followed, I believe that things could turn out differently. There’s no way Tyree makes that catch! No way! Drag. So knowing—knowing—that the Pats lost by a point meant almost nothing as I watched, asking “How do they lose this?” with increasing urgency as Jones made throws Cam Newton couldn’t dream of, the obviously overrated defense managed to tighten things up despite their own weaknesses, time of possession remained a consistent advantage and the good guys were marching for the go-ahead score in the closing minutes. A touchdown was possible but a field goal was assured. Assured! How!

Optimism: Jones is already better than Tua and deserved to win the game. James White, Damien Harris (shudder), Jakobi Meyers, Nelson Agholor, Jonnu Smith, Hunter Henry and Kendrick Bourne should produce as Jones develops. Nick Folk looks alright. Matt Judon is easy to spot with those red sleeves.

Pessimism: Stephon Gilmore is not walking through that door, not over “we sold out and won three Super Bowls” chump-change bullshit. JC Jackson measures elite-level play with freak Duron Harmon-style interceptions and will likely lead the team in that category despite giving up huge plays and then bragging about it. Joe Thuney looks alright. Chase Winovich should be easy to spot with that blond hair but generally isn’t. (Silver lining: Jets week is right on time.)

RIP Norm Macdonald. Love that guy. “It’s me, Bob!”

Up next: I might be older than Mac Jones and Zach Wilson put together but I’ve lost fewer NFL games. Cheers!