The beer: Earth Eagle Good Helmet Schwarzbier
The headline: “This history lesson doesn’t make any sense.” – Built to Spill, “The Plan”

The commentary: At Canobie Lake Park, a teenage boy with an alarming chest rash gathers among friends and wet towels. Nearby—too near, by accident—a man approaching fifty kills time on his phone while his daughter and her friend circumnavigate Castaway Island for a solid hour. The boy, confident in his hilarity (but having misplaced his own sneakers), tries out a new shock-humor bit on perfect strangers by acting as though the cops are after him and, perhaps related, that he’s found a dead baby in the trash receptacle. His voice is flat, nasal and loud—more than anything, this is why the old man can’t stand him.

Where are those girls?

The boy approaches, placing himself directly between the man and his view of the Lazy River where, for all he knows, his daughter has drowned or is murdering babies. The boy’s greeting is straight out of the thirties, brash and ugly as hell, as if his balls were pinched in a vice. The man’s brain readies itself to purge responses that would, at best, cause a scene:

Teenager: Excuse me, mister.

Old man’s brain: Leave me alone.

Old man: Leave me alone.

Teenager: Why?

Old man’s brain: What do you mean, “why”?

Old man: Just leave me alone.

Teenager: I like your beard.

Old man’s brain: The fuck? These are sideburns.

Old man: Thank you.

Teenager: Do you agree with abortion?

Old man’s brain: Define “abortion” for me, you little shit.

Old man: You’re a funny guy.

Scores of girls his age wear bikinis and this is how the kid spends his time? Live and learn, boyo. If only his behavior were all there was to question—a gaggle of adults next to me seemed perfectly fine with hogging multiple chairs and securing them with individual items like we’re in Southie after a snowstorm. I’m standing there like an idiot, alternating glances between unoccupied chairs and the Lazy River because I still haven’t spotted the girls. Eventually they pass (for what turns out to be the dozenth time, at least) and I stroll down the “shore” to grab a vacant chair and carry it to where they now know I am. I make room for it, drop the girls’ bags onto it and wait for the girls to pass one more time: “I’m here, alright?” Alright. Turn around to sit and motherfucker but one of the women has put two additional bags on top of ours. This predates rash-boy so my brain is not yet in a defensive posture:

Feisty dad: That’s my chair. That’s my stuff.

Karen: Oh. [To her companions.] I thought that was ours.

Feisty dad: It’s mine. Those bags are mine.

Karen: [To no one in particular.] But where is Stephanie going to sit?

Of the two encounters, give me the kid all day. He’s young, he’s seen only him mom naked and his friends have yet to realize that he’s not funny. But aloof adults are problematic throughout history—after all, a lack of consideration for others got Trump elected seven years ago. Shudder.

The question I have for the boy and the adults: what were your plans? Was the boy setting me up for some gotcha TikTok moment? Why did he give up so easy? And did Karen and friends assume their manifest destiny would go unchallenged? I was one person holding two bags and all I wanted to do was sit down and watch my daughter drift by over and over. Maybe I’m Karen as well, wedging myself into unwelcome territory for selfish reasons and telling a child—twice—to leave me alone. But at least I had a plan, I saw it through and no one’s blogging about me.

plan (plæn): a detailed proposal for doing or achieving something.

In recent seasons and offseasons, evidence mounts that head coach and (especially) general manager Bill Belichick has no long-term plan for achievement. He wears no clothes, has no intention of buying any and, regardless, knows neither his size (husky hobo) nor the store’s location (it moved to Tampa and then Miami Beach.) Three examples:

2020: Who follows Tom Brady, cover-upper of incompetence?
The history Belichick spent years half-heartedly drafting Brady’s potential successors from the middle and late rounds until picking Jimmy Garoppolo in the second round in 2014. Garoppolo was the future until—whoops!—Brady won three more Super Bowls and played exceptionally in losing a fourth. Belichick traded Garoppolo in 2017 and reverted to developing middle- to late-round nobodies.
The problem Brady, unhappy with his compensation and with the way the team was being built around him, signed a fake two-year extension in 2019. Close examination revealed that these “two years” were set to be voided in a cap-is-crap fever dream at the close of the league year. On March 17, 2020, Brady formally declared that he would pursue free agency and not return to the team. Three days later he signed with Tampa.
The plan Cam Newton was released by the Panthers on March 24 and signed by Belichick on July 8.
The fallout Brady won Super Bowl LV in year one, played slightly worse (relative term) in year two, retired for a half hour, played slightly worse again (relative) in year three, crammed years of broadcast journalism education and experience into a half hour Zoom call with Fox Sports and then retired… for good? Meanwhile, Newton regressed in year one and was released ahead of year two in favor of 2021 first-rounder Mac Jones. To be continued.

2022: Who runs the offense?
The history Offensive coordinator Charlie Weiss left the team in 2005 and was succeeded (minus the title, temporarily) by protégé Josh McDaniels. Offensive coordinator McDaniels left the team in 2009 and was succeeded (minus the title, temporarily) by protégé Bill O’Brien. Offensive coordinator O’Brien left the team in 2011 and was succeeded (in title!) by former mentor and failed head coach McDaniels. Offensive coordinator McDaniels announced to the world “I still want to be a head coach!” by accepting and then walking away from the Colts job in 2018, returning instead to the Patriots as offensive coordinator. He had no obvious successor.
The problem Offensive coordinator McDaniels announced to the world “I still want to be a head coach!” by accepting (for real) the Raiders job in 2022. He had no obvious successor.
The plan Offensive coordinator McDaniels was succeeded (minus the title, permanently) by former offensive coaching assistant, defensive coordinator and failed head coach Matt Patricia.
The fallout “Easy to Defend” became a league-wide pop smash outside of Foxborough.

2023: Who is the backup quarterback?
The history Jones, the starter since his 2021 rookie year, played pretty well under McDaniels and finished second in Offensive Rookie of the Year voting behind Ja’Marr Chase. Jones regressed under Patricia in 2022 and seemed to barely hold onto the starting job—Zappe Fever!—as Belichick refused to say the man’s name for a good eighteen months. In the 2023 preseason, Jones outplayed Zappe and crowd favorite/undrafted free agent Malik Cunningham on his way to securing newfangled shorthand “QB1.”
The problem Turns out Jones secured the role by default as Zappe and Cunningham never even made the team.
The plan Zappe and Cunningham cleared waivers and returned to the practice squad in the grand tradition of Danny Etling and Trace McSorley. In addition, Matt Corral was released by the Panthers on August 31 and signed by Belichick on August 31. Some shit went down and Corral was placed on the exempt/left squad list yesterday. The potential cause or effect: Zappe got promoted to the active roster as Jones’s backup.
The fallout ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I watched all three preseason games in about two hours thanks to NFL+ and its “condensed replay” option and saw no reason for hope this season—slow-motion passes, turnstile offensive and defensive lines, unforced special-teams errors, etc. But of course I have hope anyway, right? What am I doing otherwise?

Fickle nitwits jump ship at the first sign of not winning a Super Bowl and rewatch Barbenheimer memes on YouTube; concerned citizens offended lemmings lose their shit over insincere references to “in Bill we trust” while rehashing the worst listicle instincts of Peter King and Rick Reilly. In between lie the rest of us who don’t understand, on paper, how the team can finish above five hundred but want them to. We don’t miss a game, all the way to January (and beyond). We celebrate when they win, lament when they lose and have fun with Raiders of the Lost Ark imagery at each season’s conclusion. We don’t call into the fucking Sports Hub or even our beloved Patriots Unfiltered with sky-is-falling/LOL-doubters nonsense. We don’t backslap Mike Reiss or mix it up with Chris Gasper on Twitter. We have no interest in getting on camera behind Scott Zolak and his variety of crazy-eyed WBZ colleagues during 5th Quarter. No.

We blog, motherfucker!

Up next: Oh, you know, the whims of a coaching genius and everything. Cheers!