The game: Bears at Patriots
The beer: Mast Landing Gunner’s Daughter Milk Stout
The result: Loss, 33–14
The method: Live via NBC
The headline: “Just ’cause you feel it doesn’t mean it’s there.” – Radiohead, “There There”
The commentary: You’d think Radiohead, of all bands, would have written a song called “If’n You Got Two Quarterbacks You Ain’t Got a-One.” I had to settle for “There There” because we heard it on the way to school Tuesday morning and it hit a little close—the world thought they were witnessing the emergence of another Tom Brady, instead it was a shorter Mac Jones. Yo La Tengo’s perfect “Sugarcube” played two songs earlier and I’m looking forward to showing G. the video one day when she’s old enough to get the jokes. Alas, circumstances leave its mindfulness—“I’ll try to be less uptight, I’ll try to be more aware”—unused, at least this week. “‘All access,’ do you want one of these??” Drag.
The digital antenna panic-purchase from last summer’s cord-cutting finally paid off… and I mean finally because it took me twenty minutes to wrestle the coaxial cable, secure the thing and pull down a signal. Turns out, Scotch-taping it to the window is the it-can’t-be-so-simple solution, especially since ESPN Plus or Gold or whatever it is doesn’t offer a free trial. Local NBC affiliate WBTS—“Would Bill Trust (macjone)S?”—broadcast the game for us schlubs who’ve canceled cable because it’s too expensive but haven’t yet signed up for every streaming service imaginable because they’re equally expensive. Best Buy Essentials for the win.
And just what is there to say about an over-the-air 33–14 ass-kicking? Did Belichick not get enough quarterback-controversy bullshit last week?
| How to fuck up another Brady-less football season |
|---|
| On a weekly basis, pretend there’s a strategic advantage to challenging opponents to prepare for any combination of Jones, Brian Hoyer and Bailey Zappe. Force said quarterbacks to be spokesmen for your cowardice. |
| Hours before Monday Night Football, when prospective viewers are wondering if the black or the white side of the digital antenna is the “front,” let it be known that Jones and Zappe will both see significant snaps. No big whoop. |
| Wait until Jones follows consecutive three-and-outs with an interception and the boo-birds are several Mich-Ultras deep, then get the hook and insert your fourth-round rookie. |
| Nod along with tens of thousands of idiots celebrating Zappe’s four-yard completion to start the drive. Chess, not checkers. |
| Draw inspiration from the athletic excellence displayed by Jakobi Meyers to haul in a terrible Zappe pass—then, similarly contort your own perspective about the state of your offense and, indeed, your entire football operation in 2022’s NFL. This was all part of the post-Brady plan, right? |
| Meanwhile, catch up on “Beer and football” reruns and recreate every chronicled defensive crisis yours truly has griped about for a dozen years. |
| Overexpose Zappe? Reinsert Jones? Pray for Hoyer’s recovery? Scout swing-and-miss 2023 prospects? Job security is a wonderful thing! |
| Not to be outdone by the Jones/Zappe drama, McCourty & Friends surrender twenty-three straight points to the fucking Chicago Bears, who eventually feel bad and stop trying. |
| Sit back and admire the cap space gained by signing your horrible punter to an extension in the offseason. |
| Halfway to the following Sunday, proclaim Jones the starter because why not, no one believes you anyway. Your pathological tendency to fuck with the media has probably killed the guy’s career. |
| [Years later.] Bum an AirKraft ride from the boss to take you directly to Canton for your enshrinement into the Bill Belichick Honorary Wing for Post-Brady Mediocrity. |
| Chess. |
G. watched Home Alone the other day for some reason and observed “This kid is a terrorist” as I passed through the living room. Today, driving directly into the sun on the way to school, she berated the passenger visor for being “useless” and declared the sun “good for the Earth but not for me.” Neither remark directly relates to the head coach of your New England Patriots but shit, am I stretching so far?
Closing the loop from last week, King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard’s Changes came out today… and stinks. This band is all over the goddamn map. A Foul Form, therefore, will likely win the year by default—but what a way to fault!
Up next: The Jets are favored… and not only because they’re playing in New York Jersey. Cheers!
More Cream Please 