Dolphins - Colts

Indianapolis. Scene of a game without meaning or import. My Snidey Sense tells me this will be a 400 yd passing performance for Manning, but I'd much rather see both teams treat this as an exhibition game if I were a fan of either. As a fan of Ben Affleck-level lucky scoring, first team to 100 wins.

First Quarter:
MIA 3 IND 7

Perception becomes reality: Phil Simms claims the Colts are trying for more first downs this year and not so many high-risk plays because...uhm, I think he said it was important because scoring is important. I'd hate for my car to die at his initial observation and be forced to walk through the verbal shitstorm to the gas station in Obvious, NY, where his final point lies.

On the other hand, What I Love About Week 17's Meaningless Games continues: an Indy offensive lineman lines up at tight end and waddles in for a touchdown. That's the kind of exhibition game work I like to see. Mess with next week's opponent a bit and keep other players off the field and away from injury.

An earlier Miami field goal finishes the explanation of the first quarter of play.

Halftime:
MIA 6 IND 17

A number of impressive long drives from both teams peter out a bit short each time. Do coaches feel good about these kinds of drives, knowing that it's just one or two more successful steps to consistent scoring? Do they worry that a lack of clutchness pervades their team's very soul?

Peyton Manning sprints 15 yards for the touchdown, moving for all the world like Michael Vick's great-great-grandfather. (You know, dead.) It was inspiring for couch potatoes everywhere. Keep it up, 6'5".

Cleo Lemon throws his first lemon with a few seconds left, leaving Indianapolis time for a last moment field goal. When I come back, I want to be a field goal kicker in a dome.

An earlier Miami field goal finishes the explanation of the second quarter of play as well.

I don't get the impression anyone is phoning it on, but how does one tell from a small television image? It's something I'd like to assume less and definitely ask announcers and talk radio to assume less.

Mea culpa: I hadn't realized a Ravens loss coupled with an Indy win gives the Colts a bye week. I'd like to see Indianapolis play in the RCA Dome in the playoffs, so I now have a rooting cause that doesn't have anything to do with the plethora of puns for Cleo Lemon.

Third quarter:
MIA 12 IND 20

Hey, a Miami field goal!

Cleo Lemon has been limited by Saban to situations where he can't fuck up and, for the most part, he has not fucked up. He has also not done anything singularly impressive.

More long drives; more coitus interruptus. This time, the Colts kick a field goal. It makes for a languid game with the occasional interruption from a loved one to move the car or provide sexual release. If I hadn't already consumed enough sugar to cause a 4 year old's head to explode as if it had been scanned, I would be napping now.

Hey, how did Bob Whitfield's agent get him that Honda Pilot commercial? He plays a great troll.

It's 9-7 Baltimore in the third; my rooting interest in Indy grows. I despise the clawing, grabbing, and grappling Baltimore style. It plays poorly on television and makes for ugly close games. It's great for less talented teams, but it makes for uninteresting football.

Hey, a Miami field goal!

OH SWEET JESUS ABOVE AND BELOW PLEASE STOP SHOWING ME DAVID SPADE SHIMMYING IN A SILVER HIPSTER SHIRT OH GOD IT BURNS WHEN I POUR THE BLEACH IN BUT IT CLEANSES THE EYES

Fourth quarter:
MIA 22 IND 27

Baltimore goes up 16-7 in the fourth on J.P. Losman's massive vagina.

Cialis lets me get a boner for 36 hours, just in case a lot of small children gather around my Boomer crotch just as I was about to mount Grandma? Thanks, science! Do you have a pill for the bulimia I'm developing?

Hey, a...seriously, does Nick Saban have Mare on his fantasy team...Miami field goal!

Manning to Harrison. Really, it doesn't sound like much to the uninitiated, but it's still great to watch. I hope there's a few more years in those receding hairlines.

19-7 BAL with 4 minutes left. Someone please call Tony Dungy and let him know this is the last drive for Manning this calendar year.

But no...even with that game and playoff positioning final, Miami's touchdown after a turnover (congrats, Cleo) causes the slimy competitive juices to boil up in Tony Dungy and Manning presses on to protect the lead. There's a slim chance a playoff game might be hosted in Indy some day because of this, but I'm not convinced this is the proper risk-reward calculation.

Cleo Lemon sputters and apparently isn't ready quite yet to lead that final drive. Again, he was not awful, but he did not show the ability to provide a game-changing play all game. Best of luck to him; we need more colorful names and players each Sunday.

Neither team hurts themselves this afternoon. Miami gets valuable data for the offseason and a better draft pick; Indianapolis gets slightly better playoff position, another home playoff date to pad the coffers, and no major injuries for the playoff run. Group hugs!

Bengals-Colts

Welcome back, my pretties. Tonight, we bask in the awe of the two best offenses the National Football League can offer (non-LT division). I've got my cup on; let's score like Courtney Love's in the room.

(By the way, it's not a good idea to eat half a box of chocolate for dinner after a certain age. That age is 7.)



First Quarter
Colts 3 - Bengals 3

Oh, look! Instant replay! That's the only way to slow down these offenses. Four minutes on Chad Johnson's shoes, brought to you by instant replay. Also, the rookie referee asks for a game clock reset due to the instant replay and thanks the clock operator upon completion. That's incredibly sweet and will probably be beaten out of him by Hochuli at the Pro Bowl.

Dallas Clark looks like a cashier at Trader Joe's.

It took over half an hour for the first score of the game and it's a field goal. I am deeply disappointed. I want my money back.

And the rest of the quarter is spent delivering the equalizer. Both offenses had full run of the field except the red zone, leaving me with that not-so-fresh feeling after one quarter.

Second Quarter
Colts 17 - Bengals 10

Mike Tirico starts the quarter by noting explosive games often start out slowly so please oh please don't tune out casual viewer we're gonna get this par-tee started soon. Please? (If I look that pathetic in the bar, it explains a lot.)

Now we're talking. The standard "Addai sucks the best veteran dick out of any rookie in the league" story is followed by a few plays his way and a touchdown to Harrison, summed up with the standard "Harrison stopped sucking dick years ago because he's married to Manning and married receivers don't put out" spiel. Monday Night Football at its "ESPN sucks the best NFL dick in all of television" best.

The Bengals recover a muffed punt. Dwight Freeney thanks the Bengals by crushing Carson Palmer like a beer can on his forehead. While Rudi Johnson completes the deed and ties the score, Carson Palmer returns to the sidelines and asks that all future turnovers be ignored.

Matthew McConaughey is the celebrity guest. Certain close-ups of him in the booth must be very...disturbing in HD. I know certain attempts by him to speak extemporaneously are disturbing.

Peyton Manning just ran 12 yards for a first down. That reminds me; I need a new egg timer.

This random thought sponsored by Cingular: Peter Dinklage probably hated the holidays before Elf started paying TV royalties.

Manning gets caught trying to run again for the touchdown. The gods may be crazy, but they ain't stupid. Don't get cute, Peyton; you don't have the face for it.

The Colts have years of experience on building suspense; they score on another Harrison reception with a few moments left in the half. I'll see you on the other side of my insulin attack.

Third Quarter
Colts 31 - Bengals 13

Some kind of kicking thingie happened for the Bengals. When does the second half start?

Oh, there it goes. Apparently, Marvin Harrison is the best wife since Eleanor Roosevelt, covering her husband's physical frailties and burning her own light into the firmament. (Also, he doesn't suck.) My cat has spent the last two hours chasing the same mouse unsuccessfully; he could teach something to the Bengals cornerbacks assigned to #88.

Happy thought of the week brought to you by the Booze Council: The clydesdales in the Budweiser commercial are probably dead.

After Reggie Wayne burned the Bengals for a fade in the back of the end zone, a shot of Marvin Lewis confirms that someone told him about the poor clydesdales.

Texas Instruments went wrong after this. Horribly, horribly wrong. Pippi Longstocking and Dumbo want me to buy a television? Fuck you, presumptive children's entertainment.

The third quarter ends with the Bengals driving and the feel of an explosive fourth quarter on the other side. I'll fight through the diabetic coma to join you. Be strong for me.

Fourth Quarter
Colts 34 - Bengals 16

Nice 27-yard field goal to affirm my gut feeling about this quarter. Jackasses. I'd pitch a hissy fit if I weren't trying to insert my own saline IV drip.

The Bengals are dropping passes and barking at each other; the Colts are inventing hip-hop. The resulting field goal does not properly punctuate the final sentence the Colts have placed on this game. Unfortunately, this safe margin makes the announcing team feel comfortable to pontificate on the Jail Bengals. It's a year late and billions short. Just stop while Theesman is making the relatively salient points of the group.

The Colts return to being the Colts after...well, they were always the Colts. They just had a few bad weeks here and there. Let's keep our undies unbunched; the underwear models among us appreciate your respect. The Bengals continue to be Colts Lite; they could very easily succeed where the Colts failed, which I would relish only to watch old white men squirm for Super Bowl week about the evil, evil Bengals players.