Monday Morning: Though Sad to Say, It Is In Fact, a Beautiful Day
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I'm no NFL Draft whiz; I don't know my college players all that well. I do recognize, however, the difference between taking a kicker in the fifth round, (especially when there's a better one already on the roster, and a better one still on the board) and taking one with the very last pick in the entire draft. And that's just one reason why there might be some promise that the Scott Pioli/Todd Haley regime could be doing things the right way. But this isn't about place kickers. Granted, I'm glad to have a decent one on the roster, but more important: It's about victory.
Yesterday's 14-6 win over the offensively inept Washington Redskins wasn't an entirely lousy football game, but it was pretty close. And you know what? I'm just fine with that. Naturally, I don't want games like that every week. I'll take them over losses, but I like touchdowns. I like blowouts. I'd like for my running back to go off. But more than anything, I like winning.
In the grand scheme, this is a pretty cockamamie football week. It's one of those weeks where I need miracles in one fantasy league, but not immense miracles, because that would screw up my other league. In my suicide pick, I went with Jacksonville, and I literally waited until 25 minutes to kickoff to make a decision because I kept mulling over a few other options. Los Del Rio made me sweat the deal out, but they won. And of course, I have to put on my stupid Philip Rivers hat today, and hope that they can stop the obnoxious box of glee that is the Josh McBroncoBus. But more than anything, I like for my football team to win.
And let me tell you something: Two and 14 fucks with your head. Big time. I mean, it really, really messes you up. I've got to emphasize this because I doubt there are many Lions fans or old-school Tampa Bay die hards rollin' through the House on a regular basis. When that poisonous hurricane of the 2008 Kansas City Chiefs football season was over, I was really confused. I didn't know what I was feeling. I didn't know how to prioritize who I should be mad at most or least. I was positive that it should hurt more, and I was embarrassed that I almost found the thing a touch humorous.
And that wasn't all. Carl Peterson's resignation numbed some of the pain. The hiring of Scott Pioli seemed to knock a bit of the gravel out of my road rash. And the firing of Herm Edwards was...well, I'm not gonna sugar-coat that one: Had Edwards not been relieved of his duties, you would not be reading these words right now, because I'm pretty sure they wouldn't be letting me blog from prison. I might've killed a body. I didn't know what to feel about the Todd Haley hiring. I'm a bit more sold on him and his philosophy than I was in the pre-season, but the road to greatness is still gravel.
But I still didn't know what to feel. I saw a new regime installed across the Truman-Sports-Complex parking lot, and I heaped my hope onto that. Granted, probably a bit too much for one season, but I was dishing out the good vibes like a Baskin-Robbins employee doles the pink sample spoons. I'm still hopeful, even if foolishly, for the 2010 Royals. Understand that. But things got real good and mucked up in my brain about the Chiefs last year.
I didn't know what to do. It was like the whole world gets around on a bicycle, and someone came over to my house just to break my legs. Broke 'em good, too. And Chiefs fans turned into that thing that people had to deal with, that dude that's everybody's best friend, but everybody done fucked his sister at least once. That neighbor that be knockin' on your door every other day to borrow somethin', or ask with some help on some project or task. That dude that, even though he's got a car and a license, never, ever drives when y'all go out for myriad reasons. The Chiefs turned into a doormat, an annoying existence if say you're a Denver fan and you watch the Chiefs haphazardly hand San Diego two wins, that shit you been puttin' off and puttin' off and all of a sudden it bites you in the ass 'cause you -- Denver in KC and Oakland at home -- didn't take care of it sooner.
I don't know if you look back on time in weeks, months, or years, but no matter which it is, it doesn't change results, and results in the form of 31 losses in 37 tries are not good. Say this out loud now: Out of 37 attempts to win a football game, my team lost 31 times.
It's unreal. It's inconceivable. It should be unpossible.
Now, yesterday's win hasn't cured me of much. It's messed up that, given the off-seasons that Kansas City and Denver had, one would think that the 5-0 club and the 0-5 club got mixed up and shipped to the wrong addresses. It's messed up it took six tries for Todd Haley's Chiefs to get a win. It's messed up that that win came in the form of four field goals and a safety. It's messed up that, Tradition-ally Speaking, the Chiefs will have closed out with the rest of the division before they take the first of two victories against the Broncos. And mostly, it's messed up that a bad football team can kinda give a guy a mini mid-life crisis, but that's just what the last two years did to me, and probably many others.
Yesterday's win were some apples. They weren't Golden Delcious. they weren't some shiny Jonathan Apples. And they certainly weren't worthy of being called "them apples." They were just some friggin' apples.
But you know what else? They weren't poisoned apples. And for that, I can be happy on a Monday, look forward to a Sunday, and write something (sort of) positive for a change. Now get out there and win, you dumb fucker, 'cause next week will be another step in the direction of the most amazing 11-5 run at a championship season football has ever seen.
Okay, okay. I'll stop now. Feel free to leave your if-life-gives-you-apples and your don't-let-your-meat-loaf jokes in the comments.
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