Come On Now!

I apologize that I haven't had a whole lot to blog about the past few months. Deployments are so day-to-day, that just getting through the monotony of the day itself without writing about the leaky toilets, recurrence of kidney stones, etc., is key.

But, I digress. The reason for my return to blogosphere is this:

I. HATE. PHILIP. RIVERS.

And, honestly, that's not entirely accurate. I don't hate the man; he does a lot of community service in and around San Diego, so I'm sure he's not a horrible man. I just can't get over the amount of fawning, praising, almost worship-like quality of not only the Chargers fans, but the announcers, sportswriters, and sportscasters as well.

Now, I am by no means an authority on the man's skills, nor do I have a vault of stats in my head to back up any of the claims I'm about to make, so please feel free to throw some numbers at me, tell me I'm wrong, way off base, or just plain mean.

It seems to me, that at 6-6, Philip Rivers just isn't that good of a QB.

Good quarterbacks find ways to win games. Now, I suppose I can't lay the blame solely at the feet of the quarterback; there is only so much one person can do (right, Steve Johnson?). But Rivers consistently overthrows his targets, and is a stinking hot mess when it comes to making big plays in the red zone. He can't rely on kicker Nate Kaeding; one Sunday, Nate's the only one responsible for putting any points on the board whatsoever, and the next, can't sink a field goal to save his life.

Now, I know that the Chargers have had an unfortunate amount of injuries this year. Still. Tom Brady's got a bunch of rookies and hobbits on his OLine and seems to be doing ok. For the life of me, I cannot understand the Philip Rivers love fest that takes place every year in December. If Philip Rivers is such a good QB, how come he can't win a game that matters in September, October, and November? Even if the Chargers win every game left in the regular season, they would still be 10-6. Nothing to sneeze at, obviously, but not stellar in my opinion.

All week, all I've heard is how Rivers is so good, Rivers is the best, Rivers is 18-0 in December. The REAL Philip Rivers is about to show up.

Well, the Chargers were stunned at home today by the Raiders, 28-13, and the REAL Philip Rivers is nowhere to be found.

And, as I and a nation of Patriots fans can tell you, 18-1 ain't all it's cracked up to be.

Hiatus

Stealing my husband's lingo for an extended absence from blogging, I'll just say that I've been on "a hiatus."

Said hiatus pretty much began the day Ian left. Early in the wee hours of that morning, the call of nature woke me from my slumber and I peed on a stick. The results woke me up faster than a triple shot of espresso injected directly into my veins. "I'M PREGNANT???" WAIT, I MEAN "I'M PREGNANT!!!!!!"

So, yes, I'm pregnant. Needless to say, it was quite the emotional roller coaster that day. We were ecstatic to find out the good news, and were able to celebrate for about 15 hours together before Ian got on a bus destined for Japan. (Well, the bus itself wasn't going to Japan...he had to get on an airplane...oh, never mind.)

Prior to and after Ian's departure, I had East Coast friends visiting. The last one left San Diego just a few days before Aaron and I packed up and headed to the East Coast ourselves. Over the course of about six weeks, I went to two weddings (Congrats Benny and Nick and Blake and Mary!!), spent a week at the family cabin in Maine, saw lots of familiar faces, spent time with family, and even squeezed (squoze) in a week in Newfoundland.

We had a FABULOUS time seeing everyone, but boy, oh, boy, was I glad to get home. There really is no place like home.

But, now that we're here, we've finally had time to let it sink in that Daddy's really and truly on his adventure. I'll be especially blue this Friday, on the 30th anniversary of my love's birth, and I really wish I could spend it with him. Not drinking. Because I can't. Which sucks. But I would TOTALLY DD for him.

At least football season starts soon. (11 DAYS!!) But it won't be the same without a Sam Winter in hand. Well, I suppose it COULD be in hand, just not open. Which is just not as fun.

Postseason Airing of Grievances

I realize that Festivus has come and gone, but I have a few grievances I would like to air:

• Indianapolis and the Great Forfeit of 2009: I have never seen Peyton Manning so close to tears. Jim Caldwell and Colts owe the city of Indianapolis a bit more than a shrug and a statement that they've only got their eyes on the prize. Why wouldn't you want to make history? Despite their support of the coach and the organizations, you can tell the the players are exceptionally disappointed in the decisions made by the Colts' organization.

In general, I think it's a complete cop-out not to play your starters. By not playing at 100%, teams like the Colts are giving other mediocre teams that shouldn't make the playoffs a get-out-of-jail free card, and a pass straight into the postseason. Weak.

I'm typing this as Brian Hoyer is currently playing quarterback for the Patriots and as Wes Welker sits in the locker room waiting for an MRI on his left knee. If Wes Welker misses the postseason because of this, he can take solace in the fact that he put up some of the best numbers the league has seen in years. Although I don't agree with Brady sitting out, at least there's a legitimate reason--dude's been playing with three broken ribs for weeks now. I'd still like to request that he suck it up, but, for some reason, Belichick doesn't consult me on these matters.

• It is currently 80 degrees outside. And yes, this is a grievance. It is January 3.

Auf Weidersehen

Now, I was never a huge Cassel fan. I'm still sad to see him go. I will definitely miss Mike Vrabel, however. Even if Brady's not up to par by the time August rolls around, at least that gives my boy Kevin O'Connell some field time. 

In other Patriots news, Tom Brady married That Woman, forever dashing my hopes.

A Few Points

• I can't do it. I just can't stand the Chargers. 
• A month ago, San Diego was 6-10, and Norv Turner was the most evil man in the city. Today, he is everyone's BFF and they're touting him as a genius. *cough, cough FAIRWEATHER BASTARDS, cough, cough*
• Seriously, those freaking powder blue uniforms are SO GAY.
• I still think the sudden-death overtime rule is complete BS.
• I gotta say, I was really holding out some hope for Matty Ryan and the Dirty Birds. 

Blah. 

Wednesday Morning QB

When in Rome...

It would appear that this year, I will be forced by geographic proximity to root for the San Diego Chargers in the playoffs. The thought itself makes me nauseous.

'Cassel' in the Sky:

Much to my dismay, Matt Cassel did not turn out to be the second coming of Tom Brady, try though he may. Truth be told, he didn't do a horrible job, but with an offensive line that was tailor made to fit Tom, he did the best he could. I'm wishin' and hopin' that Tom Brady is back on the field next year, however.

Leavin' on a Jet Plane:

Hahahahaha. Eric Mangini. Hahaha. Oooh. Hahaha. Hahahaha. Ha. Hum.

Leave It to the Pros:

The 2010 Pro Bowl will be moved to Miami and be played one week BEFORE the SuperBowl? Whaaaaaaaaat?

Rocky Mountain High?

After 14 seasons as head coach for the Broncos, Mike Shanahan was kicked to the curb after failing to make the playoffs for the third consecutive year. There is something seriously wrong with the Broncos' management, and I hope some amazing team team snatches him up quickly.

Cowboy Up:

Mike Shanahan should not have been fired. I think Wade Phillips, however, has some 'splainin to do.

Meanwhile...

I'll be in mourning until September.

I'm Dreaming of a ... Playoff Run

Next week could be one of the only times that I will root for a New York team.

I don't pretend to understand the processes through which playoff runs are decided. All I know is that Miami and Baltimore have to lose in order to give my beloved Pats a chance at a few games in 2009. How that all came about, I don't know. I don't really understand how Miami and the NEP have the same record (10-5), (with the Jets at 9-6), and of the three, the Pats are the team that stands the most the lose. (Mattie, give me a hand here.)

Other things I don't understand (in no particular order):

1.) Why the making of a snow angel is grounds for a 15-yard penalty.
2.) Why, with a 41-0 lead in the third quarter, the starting QB was still in the game.
3.) Why the Good Lord saw fit and deprived MKO and me from our weekly does of Tedy.
4.) Why Brett Favre was named to the the Pro Bowl.

Answers from people more knowledgeable than I are most welcome. :)

It (Updated)

I suppose the time has come for us to talk about It. But, it must be said, we really don't want to. This was a conversation I had with my hairdresser recently:

Sia: "Blah, blah, blah, blah..."
Me: "Uh huh."
Sia: "Blah, blah blah, blah bah."
Me: "Oh yeah?"
Sia: "OH! And I haven't seen you since It happened!"
Me: (pregnant pause... just because I like that phrase. It has nothing to do with me being pregnant. Because I'm not. That would be awkward, and I would have to do some serious explaining to Ian. In retrospect, this explanation wasn't worth the fun expression...) "Sia! I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!"
Sia: "Oh, neither do I, trust me, honey. Worst night of my life. But I love that you know what I'm talking about."

That's right. My very Greek hairdresser and I, we're Patriots fans. And in a city like San Diego, once you utter those words, you are either met with laughs and jeers, or outright hatred. Here in the Whale's Vagina, sympathy, empathy, or simply someone who won't spit at your face is hard to come by. So we, the few but faithful, have to stick together, and we have managed to do that by honoring our silent agreement to just not talk about It. Since that fateful night in February, we've just sat here, our heads in our hands, wondering just where it all went wrong. We've only dared to peek through the slits in our fingers to see if Moss would ever get the ink in his pen working, and now that it is certain that 12 + 81 = 6 will return for another season, we can begin to assess the damage.

Sometimes, it feels like we're just emerging into the sunlight after a huge storm that swept everything away. We've lost a lot; our house is destroyed, and we lost some of our family members (i.e., Samuel, Stallworth, and Gay). There was so much hype, this was going to be the year. From week 4, all anyone could talk about was the Pursuit of Perfection, yet our boys kept their game faces on, week after week, chanting their mantra, "One game at a time." Bill "I'm a Football God" Belichick fed them regular doses of Humble Pie, and by the time Week 16 rolled around (in what would be a chilling precursor to The Night Which Will Live in Infamy), we were ready to make history. Which we did. Sorta. Not that that is what will be remembered this season. What will be remembered? SpyGate, the Perfect Collapse, and how much it hurt when we had to swallow that jagged little pill and admit that almost doesn't count.

Some people have laughed at us, looked at us right in the face, and said, "Cheaters never prosper," "What goes around comes around," and other cliche-ridden sentiments that can hardly capture our disappointment. What these people fail to realize however, that no matter what they say, or what comes out about our team (no matter how scandalous) that the Patriots will always be Our Team. We can no less cheer for the Chargers (unless, of course, they happen to be playing the Colts) than we can go a day without breathing. Through the good times (now) and the bad times (every year prior to 2001), the Pats will be our team. So go on and hate, because nothing you say will change that loyalty. Which (must get in a subtle dig here) is more than we can say for you, San Diego, and your fairweather fans who chant "Mar-ty, Mar-ty, Mar-ty" 3 games into a regular season. 

Now, all this might seem melodramatic and over the top, but when you're as emotionally invested in a season as Patriots fans were this season, it's bound to be a crushing blow. For those of us who actually have to work at it in order to even see the games, it's especially hard. We can't wake up, go to church, head to brunch, chat with friends and then come back home to settle in for a night of football. We actually have to get up, and find a place where 1) the game will actually be broadcast and 2) a place where it's well lit or 2a) there are other Pats fans in attendance. This year, after fighting and ultimately losing my battle (and subsequently, my Sunday Ticket) with DirecTV, it was more difficult for me to get out and see the games, especially once the single mother thing kicked in. So yeah, I was emotionally invested. And yeah, I did cry when It happened. 

But I'm over it. And though August is a long ways off, I'm more confident than ever that our boys will be back next year in top form. So watch out, 'cause here come the Pats! :)

Drool....

Dear God,

Thank you.

Love,
Bree


hotness.

Will Work for Football

Though I'm not quite ready to talk about what happened on that fateful night a few weeks ago, I'm already starting to feel its void in my life. My Sundays just aren't the same. I do, in fact, feel an actual pull to ESPN on Sunday mornings, and am dismayed that instead of seeing Jimmy, and Boomer, and all those other tools in fancy suits, there's bowling or something else equally boring on. How many more months until the preseason? :(