Bird-brained

"I'd like to shake your hand, Disappointment,
Looks like you win again." --Neil Young

There are no words. Except maybe one: ich. Not "ick." "Ick" doesn't quite cover it. Not that "ich" totally does either, but that guttural "ch" sound makes it a somewhat more appropriate reaction to Saturday night's debacle.

But I'm a blogger. Considering my last post was the day before Halloween, and we'd only played two games of the World Series at that point, I wouldn't blame you if you forgot about me. But I'm technically still a blogger. So there have to be words. And believe me, there are. And though I'm a sorry excuse for a blogger at the moment, my new year's resolution is to get back to the grind, or at least not let two and a half months go between postings. Besides, there is no sorrier an excuse for someone or someones posing to be something else than your very own 2009 Philadelphia Eagles.

Chances are I won't be saying anything in this blog that each of us hasn't said (or screamed) already over the last two weeks; the one difference being that I won't use any expletives or obscenities (no matter how much this team may have earned it). But perhaps it will help the venting process--hopefully for you, most definitely for me. So, in the immortal words of the Joker (how appropriate), "Here...we...go."

The defense was--how shall I put it?--not good. (I know, I know. "Thank you, Captain Obvious.") The rushers were dominated by that dirty cheater Flozell Adams, whose Native American name is Trips Defensive Linemen. The three-headed monster of Marion Barber, Felix Jones, and Tashard Choice made the line look like Swiss cheese. They didn't blitz enough, and when they did, it was picked up so easily, Romo didn't miss a beat. Not that he needed so much time, with the secondary looking flat and stunned the whole game ("Oh! You mean Romo might be targeting his Pro Bowl tight end Jason Witten? Didn't think of that!" "Wait, wide receivers can go into the middle of the field, too? Whoa!")

In every off-season, it seems, in recent history, some fan favorite is let go by Andy Reid, met with not a little bit of public outcry. It happened with Hugh Douglas, then Jeremiah Trotter, then Jevon Kearse. Each time, when everyone asked how Reid could let them go, vowing that we would rue the day of that player's release, it never came back to bite us. None of them went on to do anything substantial--at least, in Trotter's case, not with any other team, and even then, his productivity in the second stint is still nowhere near that of the first. So, I learned to give Andy the benefit of the doubt, at least in this realm. If these guys were being released, there must've been something they saw--or didn't see--that we have no idea about.

But what was proven, one of the things we learned over these last two weeks in Dallas, is that the Eagles sorely miss one Brian Dawkins, both in play and in heart. It's clear to me now that letting B-Dawk walk away from the place he wanted to end his career was a pretty big mistake. This isn't to say that had we kept Dawkins, we would have won either or both of these games. There were too many things that went wrong to be so simplistic and inaccurate. But they certainly would have been much closer.

Yet, no matter who's playing defense for you, they're going to be thoroughly exhausted when forced to play a shade under 40 of 60 minutes. And why was it that the defense was seemingly never allowed off the field? That's right: because the offense was pitifully inept, not to mention miserable to watch. Either the O-line gave Donovan no time, or there was no one open downfield, or Donovan characteristically threw to the feet of his receivers. I'm so glad that we traded a first-, fourth-, and sixth-round draft pick to acquire Jason Peters, who, when he's not getting burned for a sack, is getting flagged for false start penalties and continuing to block players seven yards out of bounds. It's called a snap count, Jason. Look into it.

And speaking of snaps, I'm sure I'm missing something, but how hard is it to snap the ball to your quarterback? In all of my years playing touch football, I never snapped the ball off of my butt. Anyone out there had that problem? Didn't think so. That's Pee Wee League stuff.

I love how Donovan entered onto the field--laughing, dancing, running right up to the barrier between him and the fans. Oh wait, no I don't. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of the whole routine. The laughing when he overthrows receivers for what would be easy touchdowns, trying to look like he's so loose and cool under pressure, when time after time, all he demonstrates is that he simply can't handle it. And it's not just with his arm. You know what the great quarterbacks do when they need a first down and no one is open? THEY RUN. They scramble out of the pocket and they find a way to move the chains. This is true of every great quarterback, regardless of whether or not they were considered "mobile." Elway did it. Montana did it. Young did it. Heck, Roethlisberger did it. These guys weren't exactly the speediest or most elusive. Donovan is, or, at least, he was. But you'd never know it watching him now. When the stakes are highest, Donovan never seems to rise to the occasion. Ever.

What I saw over these last two epic failures, where there was so much to play for, was a team unprepared, uninspired, and undisciplined. And that goes back to the coach. Everything mentioned above--the shortcomings, the flaws, the mental errors--all trickles down from the top. And that's you, Andy. I didn't get to blog about it, but the final straw for me was the Chargers game, with all of those opportunities to score touchdowns--a first and goal from the 1, to cite just one example--yet always coming away with, at most, three points. That was when I was done with Andy. Now I can't even stand the sight of him. You know what they have on NFL teams now, Andy? This crazy new invention called RUNNING BACKS. You can use them to--wait for it--run the ball! How can play-action work if you haven't established a running game? Why should a team prepare for anything but the pass when you only have your backs run maybe 10 times a game? Is there a brain in there? Why don't you call timeout after you've already received a delay-of-game penalty? I'm sorry, Andy, but you're an idiot.

Perhaps we shouldn't have been so surprised or disappointed. After all, there was just one win this year against a team over .500, and an 0-4 record against teams that made the playoffs. And, as much as we all would rather stick toothpicks under our toenails than admit it, the Cowboys are a better team.

But it would've been nice, especially after watching the Packers' valiant efforts on Sunday, to see some fight in this team. Against the odds, in a hostile environment, down a couple of scores, to know that you gave all you had and left it all out there on the field. The Eagles didn't even roll over. They never showed up.

When we all knew it was over, perhaps even at 7-0, Matt texted me the words: "February 17th." When I texted back what happens then, he said: "Pitchers and catchers report."
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Other Musings:

I really like the Windows 7 commercial with the somewhat-dorky guy in glasses. The girl comes in and says, as though she's ratting him out and trying to embarrass him, "He called his mom." And he doesn't even miss a beat, so unashamed, as he says, "Of course I called her. She needed to know this."

"Never send a truck to do a Sierra's job"? Really?? Like, seriously?? Wow. And you know the guy who thought of that is really proud of himself.

In general, I think the Bud Light commercials with the "Too Light/Too Heavy" thing are obnoxious, like most commercials overcompensating for terrible beer. But I have to admit: The paintball one gives a little chuckle. Something about "Bravo Delta, this is Echo Charlie" that makes it work.

Mark Sanchez gained a lot of points with me today, when I heard his reaction to Pete Carroll's signing on to be coach of the Seahawks. If you remember how Carroll reacted to Sanchez's decision to go pro, then you'll probably appreciate the cleverness of this, even if it doesn't give you a laugh like it did for me.

Showdown

"So. It is down to you. And it is down to me." --Vezzini, The Princess Bride

I had dreaded it for months. Working as I do on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, I hoped the day wouldn't come. But, of course, it happened. Mariano Rivera struck out Gary Matthews, Jr., and the hypothetical became reality. A Phillies-Yankees World Series. To say that I'm in the thick of enemy territory is like saying that LeBron James knows a little something about basketball. I had to put a sign on my office door that says, "No se habla beisbol aqui" in between the teams' logos.

Yesterday was a nice day to come into work, especially after all the classless garbage seen in the Gotham tabloids this week. The Post ran a cover that screamed both amateur and immature, calling us "Phrillies" and "Phrauds." How clever. The Daily News ran a headline that said, "Silly-delphia thinks they have a chance against NY." Oooh. Silly-delphia! Crushing!

Cliff Lee put to rest forever the few lingering questions and murmurs concerning some pitcher on the Blue Jays whose name I can't remember. Chase Utley wasn't impressed by CC Sabathia's prior dominance over left-handed home run hitters. And the Yankee bullpen let a close game get out of hand, raising more red flags (double-meaning intended) for an arrogant and obnoxious fanbase.

Today? Not as good a day to come into work. Last night was frustrating. But let us first give credit where it's due, as compared with the New York news channels, who began their broadcast as if someone had died, blaming the Yankee bats rather than appreciating the masterpiece that was Cliff Lee's outing. AJ Burnett pitched beautifully. Occasionally he was helped out by certain players forgetting that it's impossible to get a hit with the bat on their shoulders. But that doesn't lessen how good Burnett was. He deserved the win. Pedro Martinez pitched well, and gave his team a real chance to win, which is all you can ask for from your starter. Though I never give up until the last pitch, I knew it was all but over when Chase grounded into the double play in the 8th. You don't get many chances like that off Rivera. So when you do, you have to cash in.

The silver lining, of course, is that we did get the split in New York. The Yankees had the best home record in baseball, and we took one in the Bronx. Now we head home for three. The word "amazing" is entirely overused in our vocabulary nowadays, but that would be precisely the appropriate adjective if we can sweep at home and repeat as champs.

I'm looking square at you, Cole Hamels. For Halloween, I'd love to see you dressed up as you from 2008. Think you've got that costume stashed away somewhere?
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Other Musings:

Does the Eagles' offense know that byes only last one week? As my friend Shwa once said in a similar win over the Redskins a couple of years ago, "Only the Eagles could win and still make you feel like crap."

A couple of logical questions for Fox and other broadcasters of sports: How can there be a "game-changing" or "game-saving" play when the game isn't over yet? How can you have several players, like the "Eagles defensive line," be the "player of the game"? It's like when John Madden used to put ten guys on his asinine horse trailer. And by the way, I can't tell you how much I don't miss that man.

Have you heard the annoying whistle for PC Richard & Son? It sounds like something you should do when your car blows a tire. It's like the Dragnet theme they play at the Wachovia Center when the opposing team gets a penalty against the Flyers. It's certainly not a positive sound. And then I noticed they play it after strikeouts thrown by Yankee pitchers. Hated that place before. Hate it more now.

Enough with "DAY-O." It doesn't mean anything, you never play the next line, and if that's what you need to keep the crowd in a ballgame, your fans are idiots.

And, so that I end on a positive note. For fun, a great article by Gene Wojciechowski on ESPN.com giving fifteen reasons why the average fan should root for the Phillies. Also, in a great article by Jayson Stark, he provides some awesome perspective: "It wasn't so long ago that this franchise had played in two World Series in its first 97 seasons of existence. And now it's about to play in its second in 12 months." As my boy Kevin texted me, "I never thought I'd live to see a team like this."

Somehow, Some Way

I never give up hope. If I've learned one thing as a Philadelphia sports fan over the years, it's that as long as there's time left for something dramatic to happen, it can and very often will.

And I never gave up hope on Monday night. Not completely. But after the bottom of the 8th inning, when the Rockies put up three runs to take a 4-2 lead, even I, Optimist Prime, prepared myself for a Game 5 that would somehow be even more intense than Games 3 and 4. I was already in a text conversation with my friend Matt, who had tickets to Game 5 in Philly for Tuesday night:

"What we feared would happen last night happened tonight. Looks like you're going to the ballgame tomorrow night."
"I can't go. Gotta teach."
"You gonna sell it?"
"That's the plan."

But that wasn't the plan. Not for the Phightin Phils. Two strikes, two outs in the ninth, down two? No problem. Sure, I'd been sitting at the bar with my friend Tim silently praying and thinking of all of the amazing two-out rallies this team had put up in the past. But I was figuring out how soon I could get home from work Tuesday night so that my drawn-out heart attack could resume.

Then Utley walked. And then Ryan Howard rocked a game-tying double to deep left. And then, I thought, "This is awesome. Now I have to prepare for extra innings." But again, this was not part of the plan. Jayson Werth, redeeming himself for an ugly strikeout earlier in the game with runners on, drove a single to right center, and as suddenly as possible, the Phillies were winning. Un. Believable.

And so, heading into Game 1 of the NLCS rematch against the Dodgers, let me just say this: I expected the division. We should have beaten the Rockies, but that is with all due respect to them. They were a very good team, especially at home, and we needed to play our best ball to beat them. So, kudos to the Rockies. And big kudos to the Phils, the Road Warriors, rising above freezing temperatures in a place not friendly--in terms of record--to visitors.

It goes without saying that we can beat the Dodgers. But I don't expect to, not in the way I expected to repeat in the East. If the Rockies are a very good team, the Dodgers are certainly near the "great" category. And so, this series is going to be exciting, and could obviously go either way. And as such, combined with the fact that--in case you forgot--we did win it all last year, I'll be somewhat okay if we can't beat LA again. In my mind, the series hinges on the performance of one man. It's not Cliff Lee. It's not Ryan Madson. It's not even Brad Lidge. It's Cole Hamels. If Cole can be even 80 percent of what he was last year, we win.

The call here is that he does. Phillies in six.
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Other Musings:
I'd like to personally thank Miller Lite. Not for the unique brewing process in which hops are added three times. But for the fact that I had been wondering what greatness tastes like. Now I know.

Anyone notice the Olive Garden commercial with the frat guy from Road Trip? I can't find it online, but you know who I'm talking about. Every time I see it, I want to yell, "Psi! Chi! Psi! Chi Chi!"

If you haven't seen this yet, this is literally one of the most amazing things I've ever heard. They're naming it the call of the year. Might be the greatest call of all time. Check it out.