Well, last night's three–ring NFL circus went much as expected considering the match–ups.
At least Detroit seemed to understand that if you can't perform like Lions, at least make like clowns.
They started with the ball, and yet a minute and a half into the game, they were already down by a score.
Seven minutes in, and they were down by eleven, and the post mortem had already begun.
"They're not tackling well" suggested one analyst. Heck, they weren't tackling at all.
Tennessee Titans back Chris Johnson was running against air. At 21–3 in the first quarter,
the booing began, but this was a master class in ineptitude, and the Lions were out to earn their 0–12 record.
At the 1:34 mark in the first quarter, they took a time out. After the pause, they lined up for an
eventual delay of game. A couple of plays later they punted ...for ten yards. Forty seconds into the
second quarter, they were down 28–3, and it was turning into a game of 'Guess the gaffe' — sack,
fumble, pick or shank? Okay, a flag that negates a turnover: that's new. (35–3).
If these Lions had turned up in a Roman arena, the Christians would have eaten them.
"My daddy left home when I was three..."
One of this week's more left–field stories: The mother of Brian Urlacher's 3–year old son
Kennedy has alleged that the Chicago player paints their boy's toenails Bears blue and makes him wear
pink Cinderella diapers. This, Tyna Robertson has told a Will County (Illinois) court, must stop or
she will block Urlacher's access to their son.
Presumably, Brian finds this funny. Truth be told, I find it quite funny as well, and they'd only
need visit Chicago's Oak Park to see a photo of undoubtedly masculine writer Ernest Hemingway — a
high school football standout — dressed like a girl when he was about the same age. But mom doesn't
find it funny, and is fearful Urlacher is confusing the lad.
Urlacher's response, according to Robertson: "It doesn't make him gay."
I'm no psychologist, but I suspect the subject matter you poop on when you're a kid isn't the defining element
of later sexuality (I'm only surprised Brian doesn't get Kennedy to empty his bowels over an Aaron Rodgers diaper).
He's only wearing a Cinders nappy, not dressed as the fairy godmother.
But I'm reasonably sure that when your father plays middle linebacker for the Chicago Bears, he could dress you in
a tutu, take you to see Priscilla, Queen of the Desert and buy you Barbara Streisand's Greatest Hits, and you'll still
turn out to be a fairly rough–and–tumble kid.
I guess Robertson never heard Johnny Cash's 'A Boy Named Sue'.
