“We live in a cynical world, filled with tough competitors.”
– Tom Cruise in Jerry Maguire
“Like sands of the hourglass… so are the days of our lives.”
– Ed Prentiss
What a difference a week makes.
Less than one week ago… the Eagles were not a playoff team, America’s love affair with Tim Tebow had reached all-time heights, the New Orleans Saints scored sixty-two points in a single contest, West Virginia was still in the Big East, Tony LaRussa was being crucified for a managerial mistake, Kim Kardashian was a blissful bride and there was absolutely no physical evidence of the existence of Big Foot.
Like I said earlier, what a difference a week makes… for all these things have now been turned on their heads.
Let’s tackle them one at a time, shall we?
First of all… the Eagles. The franchise that back-up quarterback Vince Young prematurely dubbed “The Dream Team” got off to a rocky start. After signing Young, as well as Dominique Rodgers-Cromartie, Cullen Jenkins and Nnamdi Asomugha in the off-season, Philadelphia went on to lose four of their first five games. Critics wrote them off, along with their playoff chances. After beating the Redskins and then embarrassing the Dallas Cowboys on national television Sunday night, the Eagles finally seem to be clicking on all cylinders. Only weeks after their slow start, those same critics are back to predicting Philly will win the NFC East. Hop on quickly, folks. The Eagles’ bandwagon is starting to get full again.
Poor Timothy. I mean, not really. The kid’s got it made. He’s got a Heisman trophy, two national championships, he’ll never have to buy a drink in Gainesville for the rest of his life (not that alcohol’s ever touched his lips, other than turning water into wine) and he’ll clearly be bumped to the front of the line when waiting at the pearly gates. Two Sundays ago, Tebow was cheered for leading his Broncos to victory after being down fifteen against the Dolphins. Once again, he became our patron saint of football. That didn’t last long. After facing the Detroit Lions this past Sunday, most of us saw what we all feared. Tim Tebow is not NFL-ready. Only one week after singing his heavenly praises, we resorted to blasting the guy for holding on to the football too long and throwing sidearm. This week, Tebow travels to Oakland. This could get ugly, unless of course he wins. Then all will be forgiven.
Many outside of New Orleans tend to forget the Saints – a team Tebow surprisingly doesn’t play for – won the Super Bowl only two years ago. Their loss to Seattle in last year’s playoffs was the talk of last post-season. Early on in 2012, the Saints reverted back to championship form, winning four of their first five. Two weeks ago, they tied an NFL record by scoring 62 points against Indianapolis with quarterback Drew Brees racking up ungodly fantasy stats. Then they flew to St Louis… and lost to the winless Rams. Who dat thought they gonna beat dem Saints? The now 1-6, Sam Bradford-less Rams, that’s who. And suddenly, the Saints bandwagon has seats available.
My stepdad recently asked me indirectly what I thought of conference realignment. I say indirectly because he wasn’t actually talking to me, but rather my mom. She relayed the conversation. Like so many other college football fans in this country, my step-dad doesn’t quite understand why northern teams play in the Southeastern Conference, why western teams play in the Big East, why there are twelve teams in the Big Ten and ten teams in the Big 12. Well, sir, I wish I could make sense of it for you but I cannot. In fact, no one can. All you need to know is that money dictates these moves, which is why we’re seeing major college football programs scatter in multiple directions. Round and round she goes, where she stops, nobody knows. Traditional conference rivalries will eventually, and unfortunately, become things of the past and before long, what school plays in what conference, or what these conferences will even be named, is anyone’s guess.
Remember Tony LaRussa’s bullpen blunder that gave the Texas Rangers a three-games-to-two World Series edge and brought St. Louis to the brink of elimination? Critics were piling on the Cardinals’ skipper, asking how such a meticulous student of the game could be so careless with his team’s season on the line. Two wins later, all is forgotten and LaRussa returned to being the quirky genius we once thought. What was once seen as a huge blemish on an otherwise perfect coaching career (third all-time in major league coaching victories), the bullpen faux pas will be swept under the rug as the now-retired LaRussa rides off into the sunset. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. Winning cures all ills.
Not long ago, I wrote about how my namesake, Kris Humphries, was thrust into the spotlight by shacking up with one of America’s most famous whores. Unlike most of America, I already knew who Humphries was. How could I not? He has the same name as me, just improperly spelled. I used to record his audio highlights and set them as my ring tone. And Humphries with the MONSTER jam!!! Well, so much for me and Kimmy living happily ever after. Less than three months after saying “I do,” Kardashian filed for divorce, meaning if you had the under and 72 ½ days, you can officially cash your winning ticket. After dropping a paltry ten million dollars on her wedding, the most famous Kardashian sister is once again single. So you’re saying there’s a chance.
One of my boys at work is a casual sports fan. While I regularly set the bar televisions to ESPN, he prefers watching Animal Planet. I caught some of their programming over Halloween weekend to find a disturbing number of people still obsessed with Big Foot. I can’t say I watched intently but, like a train wreck, it was hard to turn away. From what I could see, several Sasquatch-trackers are absolutely convinced there is such a creature roaming the wilderness. Who am I to tell them otherwise? After all, some of us still think there will be an NBA season this year, so I guess it’s conceivable that Big Foot exists. If so, I wonder how much Drew Rosenhaus would garner for the big furball. Just remember, however, after one huge game of Sasquatch blocking twelve shots, after just one off night, we’ll surely proclaim him a bust.