Aftermath of a Disaster: New England’s Loss in Perspective


DATELINE: High Hopes Remain

Belichick Back at Drawing Board, Creating New Monsters


“Our fingers are crossed,” said Tom Brady of Gronk’s game-ending injury. It may not be the darkest day of the season, but it is close to it.

With the leg buckling out from under him, and writhing in pain, Gronk looked more like a Greek god falling off Mt. Olympus than ever before.

The ever-ominous MRI is scheduled for Monday to tell fans with bated breath whether they can schedule a ski trip on Super Bowl weekend in February.

As Rodney Harrison stated a week ago, losing a game will remove all stress and strain on the players and coaches. Alas, losing Gronk should not have been part of the equation. E=MCgronk.

Home field during the playoffs may still be possible, and the Patriots cannot be knocked out of playoff contention unless they lose everything henceforth. Everything is the sum total of one quarterback.

He’s the only one left standing. As Brady’s wife once said, “He can’t throw and catch the ball too.”  She is as astute as Caesar’s wife when she told him not to go pick up the Super Bowl trophy at the Roman Senate.

If there is no Super Bowl in the Patriots future, then Tom has only to look forward to another round of Deflate-gate hearings and trial with the NFL and Roger Goodell looking to break both his legs.

In Belichick you better trust. The Hooded Wizard of Foxboro must throw an eye of ‘camnewt’ into the boiling cauldron and come up with some Luck-style receivers.



Patriots Try To Comprehend Fatalism


DATELINE: Rotten Irony

No Patriot fan wants to read this.

Like the Hindenberg, the New England Patriots have had a catastrophe, not a loss of one game. Now, as the game tally sheets will not tell you, week after week, one disastrous injury after another has decimated the Brady team and its morale.

Next man up may ring hollow after the loss of Gronk.

You could see the entire team deflated through the snowflakes. Perhaps the footing led to the accident that caused the loss of Gronk. Perhaps it was larger, like divine retribution.

Those who have hated the Patriots and stuck pins in every voodoo doll they could find, may now have some smug satisfaction. The Patriots have lost a game—and a half-dozen stars that would have catapulted them to glory, if quantum physics would have allowed.

In another universe the Patriots are still winning and healthy. But, we are trapped in this universe and must face the ugly laws of probability and human frailty.

We could run you through the logical progression of the loss of a nail causes the loss of a war.  Escalating cause/effect has some kind of Jungian explanation for such coincidental horror.

We don’t need to hear it. We saw the black hole in Denver as well as we once saw a baseball go between the knees of Bill Buckner. Sometimes one injury can cause a season to be lost: other teams have had catastrophic losses too.

But none has lost every weapon, every option, every star, one after another. No other team had the destiny of perfection within its grasp.

Somewhere tonight Roger Goodell has breathed a sigh of relief. His prayers have been answered.

You could blame the weather, or even the NFL referees who obviously tried to penalize the Patriots to death. It is unfair and vile.

There is a month left in the season, but you might as well turn out the lights now. We saw it briefly in Tom Brady’s eyes. It’s called shock.

Denver Forecast: Dire with a Chance of Snow


DATELINE: Snowball’s chance of winning



                         Tom Brady and Babe McDaniels

Plan for a snow bowl in Denver, which means muckluks and no lucks.

With one of the all-time snow QBs in history going for the Patriots, the odds may just slip-slide in favor of the Patriots. Tom Brady is no snow bunny. He loves to play in the cold—and can melt a team’s morale faster than a snowman in July.

Dozens of so-called experts have picked the Patriots to lose, and with another key player out of the game (Patrick Chung), the New England team is looking like a cramped swimmer going under the ice floe. Will Claude Julien give Bill Belichick a few Bruins to play the game?

The Alamo did not end well for its defenders. If you were last man standing, you probably once sat next to Tom Brady during timeouts.

The alleged last man standing at the Alamo was the brave Davy Crockett, fighting with fists and gun butts at the end.

Is this the fate of Tom Brady? Is the holiday goose of the Patriots now about to be fricasseed? Are no two snowflakes alike? Have Patriot hopes been over-inflated? Do we remember the Alamo?

Good heavens, have we bought into the media hype?

With his arsenal depleted and no ammo in his gun, Brady may be looking to see if his magic will allow him to create a star out of the dusty leavings of a practice squad.

Tom Brady loves Babe McDaniels who met his Waterloo in Denver. Is revenge sweeter when your offensive guru used to coach the Broncos?

Caught Up in the Lack of Action, Poor Tim Tebow!

DATELINE: No Dates for Tebow


One-time One-Minute Former Patriot and Bronco Tim Tebow has hit the news again for all the wrong reasons. His two former teams are about to have more foreplay in one night than Tim experiences annually.

According to snide rumors with no proof whatsoever, Tim refused to have a sexual relationship with his stunning model girlfriend. Hence, she ended the affair before it became an affair to dis-remember.

Any beautiful woman with sexual needs and ignorant of Tebow’s religious fervor may need counseling before she jumps into the sack with the often chased, but always chaste, football hero.

Accused of being adamant about not playing his virginal organ, Tebow cannot be impure in heart, let alone commit sin. Being of a nasty persuasion, we are inclined to think that Tebow reminds us of several NFL stars who seek the comfort of a beard to deflect impure speculation.

Far be it for us to chase Tebow over the rainbow with all the friends of Dorothy, but we suspect that Tim’s sex life is a house without many closets.

We feel compelled to argue that, like each week’s big NFL game, the media is hyping this stuff beyond the pale. Tebow’s peccadilloes are nobody’s business, and his lack of affairs seem merely to be a satirist attempt to whip up smug titters.

No matter how we cut the baloney, Tim’s only solution is likely to be a YouTube porn film, though dissemblers will parse every scene for editing.

If Tebow prefers not to have sex with women, we can only say that he is not counting illegitimate children with sundry mothers—nor beating up the bimbo of the week—but is merely driving off the bridge before counting his chickens.


Time for the real games.


Peyton’s Place For Sale

DATELINE: In Absentia


How the mighty hath fallen. Especially his arches. With plantar fasciitis, Peyton Manning has trouble playing footsie, let alone football. Is this the end of Peyton’s ownership of the NFL?

Like another great quarterback that Manning just passed in the stats game, the redoubtable Brett Favre, Peyton may have overstayed his welcome at the Big Show.

Now with NFL network at odds over its marquee game of the week in the proverbial hopper, they no longer have their hero—Peyton—to dispatch the evil Brady.

Well, the NFL is not known for its moral choices.

We are happy that the Goodell bush league will lose a ton of money on this game—and they don’t even play BoyKings or FanDrool. The cash cow is now chopped liver. A Manning-Brady matchup is about as much fun as watching Republican non-entities Huckabee debate Jindal.

Brady is the last of the greats still standing. The NFL’s best laid plans of having Louise Brees, Duck Rodgers, and Kit Carson, considered the best in QB ranks is now a dead fish.

The man the NFL wants to most destroy is the last QB standing in the pocket, leaving Goodell likely to put a bountygate out on the Patriots.

The Commissioner tried to spygate and deflategate, but his gates are off hinges and croaking like the Tin Man.

And the youngsters like Luck, Kaepernick, and Manziel, are catastrophes of inconsistencies. What can a Commissioner do when his profit plans go awry? We recommend he resign—and fire the underlings.

Remember Whistle-gate!


NBA Star Okafor becomes miscreantor for a day



We hope Jahlil Okafor will find what he’s looking for. Even if you go to a prestigious school, you can still grow up to be a mule.

On the streets of Boston after his team’s 16th loss in a row, versus no victories, Okafor swung for the fences and connected.  Alas, he plays basketball, not baseball. His swing struck the proverbial nose of a bystander and non fan.

Okafor went for a sucker who called his team a bunch of suckers. We know how much that sucks.

In the world of millionaire athletes, those are fighting words. Put up your Dukes.

Male ego and dollar signs are always a good match in a boxing ring. When you are a highly paid Philadelphia 76er, you can come to Boston and tell the Celtics that Ben Franklin left Boston for Philly and greener pastures.

Defending his team’s honor, Okafor went for a half dozen young Boston Brahmins like a bull in a china shop. We know that no Celtic fans would ever incite a riot—or express racist sentiments. The fault is always in the stars.

Another opinion claimed Okafor suggested Boston girls could be bought for the price of a peanut brain.

The NBA has decided in its wisdom to allow its players to act like dummies. Even Okafor noted later that he was kind of “dumb” for responding like a millionaire throwing a temper tantrum.  For his honesty, the 76ers decided he can fight on the basketball court any day he wants.

Okafor showed speed and ability to escape any pick set up to trap him. With his shifty moves, he showed why the NBA is the choice game for all thugs, even those with a petticoat from Duke University and its program to soften the edges of gangstas.

Tom Brady’s Musical Chair Go Round

DATELINE: Seats of Honor


The seat next to Tom on the players’ bench will be empty for now.

Receivers on the New England Patriots seem to scramble when defense plays, to take a seat next to Tom waiting for another turn to toss a touchdown.

The seat tolls for you, slot receiver.

An early candidate for death row was Aaron Hernandez who always jockeyed to sit next to Tom on the bench—until his seat in a murder trial or two became more compelling.

Then, there was Wes Welker—no one could take his place. Well, not quite.

But, then came Julian Edelman who for a few years was the main man next to Tom. For a few weeks, Danny Amendola sat beside Tom in the shotgun ride, as the main sidekick.

You never see Gronk sitting next to Tom. He is too smart for that distinction, nor any backup quarterback with a death wish. Those who sit next to Tom are doomed to repeat history of IR or worse.

Tom Brady needs to make a couple more untested Patriot receivers into superstars instantly to round out his undefeated record. Just add water and Brady—and voila, you have another Patriot star receiver ready to put his can in the Seat of Honor, and face the can of no-can-do.

A consensus is growing that the Patriots are beatable because they have no players of merit left. Like a bad musical chairs game, the seats next to Brady on the bench are at a premium. They are also now looking like a throne of bad luck. Sit next to Tom and find the poop chute open.

No one wants to sit next to Tom. It used to be that no one wanted to give him a high five. Now, the danger has spread. It isn’t MRSA or bubonic plague that seems to kill off receivers who become Tom Brady’s main target.

Those who have been lucky enough to sit next to Tom on national TV during games have been eliminated one by one.

If we had a musical score to go with the elimination round, it would be “Pop Goes the Weasel.’  That’s how quickly Tom’s cherished heated seat on the bench is killing off players.

Sing Along with BB (Music Man Belichick)

DATELINE: with a Capital D

Patriot Receivers


There’s trouble in Foxboro City with a capital T.

There’s no protection for Brady, which starts with a ‘p’

And ends with a sack.

We’ve surely got trouble, as our old pal the Music Man used to tell us.

Friends, the injured is receiver is the opponent’s playmaker. Yep, we got trouble right here in Bradyland.

Watch for the tell-tale sign of a rushed passer. The moment the ball leaves his hand, does Brady end up in a heap under two men?

Is there a nicotine stain on his white pants? Is there a playbook lost in the turkey stuffing?  Has Brady stopped memorizing the names of his O-line, or does he call them all “Rex Ryan”?

We can only hope that Tom remembers the Maine, the Alamo, Plymouth Rock, and the Golden Rule!

Are certain new words creeping into his vocabulary, like “Help!” and “Swell!” Mothers of Patriot Fandom, keep your sons from losing their shirts at betting sites like FanDooDoo. Oh, we got trouble.

Friends, fantasy football is Goodell’s playground.

If so, there is Trouble in Josh McDaniel’s play calling with a capital T.

That game with inflated balls is in Goodell’s playground.

Oh, we got trouble, trouble, trouble. Gotta rhyme it with D. And that stands for Denver where they give BB plenty of T.

We’ve lost E, which stands for Edelman, N which stands for Nate, and now A, which stands for Amendola.  And we can’t buy a vowel. We can only pray that G will give D plenty T.

G stands for Gronk in this formula.

NFL’s Gabbert: If You Need a Friend…



In San Francisco the only big news is an earthquake. Suppose the 49ers throw a press conference and no one shows up.

Starting QB Blaine Gabbert showed up for his press conference, and he ended up having a front row seat. He waited for the party to begin and put on his funny hat and blew his noisemaker. No one was there.

Send in the clowns. There ought to be clowns.

Alas, war should be so much fun. Suppose they throw one and no one came.

Tom Brady may have seen the reports and had a wishful moment back in Boston. The day he walks into an empty room, the world must have ended.

No rap on Gabbert’s rapping ability, but his third-rate team forgot to notify the media sycophants that their weekly meal was available. Usually tape worms are running the tapes 24-7.

Gabbert had to feel like he was picking up team meds at CVS, open 24 hours, and found no one home. What will you do without pain killers? In the NFL, you play with a concussion.

When you find no one at your presser, you may wonder if you had a concussion this week. If he’s lucky, his opponents won’t show on Sunday.

Next week we recommend that Gabbert pull an Andy Warhol and send in a double. The assembled media probably will not know the difference. Then again, neither may his San Francisco team executives.

As long as they sign the paycheck, Gabbert will show up at non-events any time the team wants him there. This is the magic bullet you take for your teammates.

NFL Puts Lips Together & Blows



That’s Buffalo Bob’s Bills, Howdy Doody Rexy.

The Bills have come due—and whether Belichick has cash on hand, or credit up his hoodie sleeve only the four quarters will tell. Magician T-Rex Ryan plans on pulling quarters out of Tom Brady’s nose.

T-Rex’s defensive attack tormented Tom Brady, but truly befuddled the officiating crew, one of the worst Roger Goodell could send to Foxboro.

The big game did not test the ability to stay up late. It was paranoid fun.  It does test the ability to rise on Tuesday morning to work as per usual, but it sent Patriot fans into a frenzy of paranoia beyond their usual fringe.

Inadvertent Whistlegate showed up on Goodell’s doorstep screaming like a newborn banshee. Yes, blame the NFL for Whistle-gate.

Every game is different—and blowing out the Bills, a la the earlier game, may be like blowing smoke rings. You can’t have a Super Bowl ring unless you can blow smoke rings around your most arrogant and semi-talented opponents. The NFL just blew their whistles like Lauren Bacall did to Bogie.

Between the referees’ attempts to throw the game back to the Bison, Belichick prevailed—and the sight of Rex Ryan throwing an F-laden tirade on the sidelines made the game a classic of ineptitude.

Former Pat Rodney Harrison has said he hoped the Patriots would lose this one in order to relieve the pressure on them for a perfect season. It’s like wondering if the Patriot O-rings resemble the old NASA problem. We know the inevitable is closer than ever after last night’s victorious fiasco.

The Bills have been sent to clean the outhouse for another season, and they ought to be joined by the so-called officiating crew.

Gronk’s Party Cruise Ship: Mal de Merry

 DATELINE: Sink or Swim



No one told us! We have discovered there are few spaces left on the party ship to set sail for the Bahamas in February. Gronk is hosting a party ship. Move over, drydock. Look out, Andrea Doria.

We presume too that this may be a Super Bowl party combination.

All guests with reservations on the ship actually will be able to pose with Gronk for a photo. At least we think it is the real Gronk, not a cardboard cutout. We already have one of those pix from Dunkin’ Donuts.

This continues Gronkonomics, a means for the Gronk to make money hand over fist without cashing a single paycheck from the Kraft family sports team.

Gronk’s parents appear to be on board this party ship as chaperones. His brothers will be there to prevent assaults for deranged women looking to make a husband out of the New England tight end.

The few balcony rooms left for our delectation will cost $1500 per person for the three days. We will need to find someone willing to spend three days and two nights with us in a small room. This is especially important for those with a tendency to be seasick after imbibing many drinks.

Whether this is another overblown publicity stunt by the master of gathering attention is unknown. We are leery of ships going out into the Atlantic in iceberg season.

We have not even considered the likelihood of coming down with a stomach virus, which we always see on the news when cruise ships are stalled out at sea.

If you are pickled with Gronk, we suppose neither iceberg nor viral infection will slow you down.

Rex Ryan’s Hope and Other Soap Operas



Rex Ryan has become even more insufferable this season, from his choice of captains for the coin toss to wearing his son’s football helmet to a press conference.

We love whimsy and situation comedy—but T-Rex never settles for farce when he can deliver burlesque. We hope he never drops his fig leaf and keeps spraying seltzer down his pants.

We expect some fan to try to break his jaw when the Bison go on a stampede off the field.

Lately he has started to praise Caesar Belichick like Brutus at the funeral pyre—and curse Brady for keeping that court artist painting in his attic.

Like Casca, he believes the mighty Belichick is too ambitious. And worse, he has his laurel wreaths on order. T-Rex is showing his green-eyed monster beneath the petticoat. And like Brutus, Ryan keeps waking up at night at the nightmare vision of Belichick at another Super Bowl.

The T-Rex team continues to play out the background of Niagara Falls, step by step. Shall Rex go out with a bang?  He said he will be fired if Brady scores 200 points against his team.  He will then join his twin brother in the unemployment line—or worse, on the CBS pregame show.

Ryan just wants to set Bill Belichick up for a nervous breakdown. Someone should tell T-Rex that a nervous breakdown implies you have frayed nerves. Belichick is frayed of nothing.

Gronk’s Latest Commercial Endorsement: $$ in Bank

DATELINE:  Money Saving Tips from Gronk

 thank you, ESPN

Gronkonomics may be the next phase of financial spiking.

Yes, Capital One—bank and credit card company—has hired Gronk as their spokesman. This may seem to undercut the economy—or it could mean a bull market. Cash cows are running for tax shelters.

Gronk apparently won the hearts of bankers everywhere when he announced he never cashes his paychecks, but merely banks them. He lives off his product endorsements—which are plenty. He is awash in Dunkin’ Donuts coffee, among other businesses.

Alas, most of us cannot afford not to cash our paychecks. Most fans of Gronk make their millions by betting on FannyDoodoo and BoyKinks, fantasy betting sites.

We may wonder what makes Gronk a nickel squeezer in a world of flagrant fouls and nouveau riche athletes. Being tight with the Buffalo nickel is nothing new for a boy who grew up where the bison roam in Buffalo.

Gronk is hardly spending money on his wardrobe—which remains gym teacher basic. His sneaks may be the biggest cost, but some products are given to him to try out! If he likes them, he signs a contract to endorse the product.

Gronk’s Spartan living quarters feature no art or decorations. He lives with a bed and training equipment. He always can find a bed with his parents, brothers, or sundry admirers everywhere as long as they have an unlimited supply of Polish sausage and Chicken Sue flay.

One of his best friends, who likes to travel in style wherever he goes, dunned Gronk last year for not spending money. When Gronk arranged a trip to Las Vegas for the twosome, it was tied into a promotion for hotels. Of course, we cannot praise profligate Julian Edelman who does not own a coat and lives with a roommate and teammate Ryan Allen.

We are going to try Gronkonomics by saving as much money as possible by not paying the mortgage and withholding tax on our royalties. We will keep you apprised of growth in our bank account.



Bills Plan on a Victory Lap, if not Parade

DATELINE: More Media, Less Taste

alien 3

Rex Ryan Torments the Patriot Cheerleaders

If you are puzzled by the hype for the Monday Night game between the Pats and Bills, so are we.

Every media razzle-dazzler is trying to up the ratings for his own benefit. There is no other explanation for making this game bigger than the first landing of man on the Moon.

This is apparently the Super Bowl for the Buffalo Bills—and they are spouting off that they intend to get to Brady and Gronk. They must be expecting the NFL to give them special rights to have 15 men on the field for every play.

Beyond that, we begin to wonder if we are losing more brain cells to the endlessly overblown ego of media shills. They keep telling us that the Patriots are in trouble until we begin to question it ourselves.

Yeah, the Pats will be without Jamie Collins, Dion Lewis, and Julian Edelman as well as Nate Solder. Is it the end of the world for playoff hopes? For possible victory? For human decency?

We suspect not.

The Patriots have brought in Vereen and Fauria for the game. It sounds like the Ghosts of Xmas Past.

Yes, those names of the past are baaaack like your favorite poltergeist.

Of course, it is Christian Fauria’s nephew and Shane Vareen’s little brother on the new roster.  It does not matter because it means Belichick is going to history to teach T-Rex Ryan that those who do not learn the hard lessons of historical inevitability are about to suffer detention and demerits.

Tom Brady Trumps Truman Capote in Photo Competition

erotic poses?

Leave it to GQ Magazine to set up Tom Brady in a way that Roger Goodell wishes he could. We are almost agog waiting for Tom’s next act in the swim suit competition.

The sexy man of the year has outdone a controversial pose that practically ruined the career of Truman Capote in 1949. Yup, taking that languid look on his book jacket made Truman a laughingstock and brought forth cries of “Dandy!” They may have actually said much worse.

Tom Brady is revisiting the look almost 70 years later, and he looks almost as ridiculous as Capote. If they are selling something, the price is beyond what most fans are willing to pay.

Gore Vidal loathed the Capote pose, and we are waiting to hear what Tom’s archrival, Peyton Manning, has to say about this sofa cushion pinup boy.

Now, we admit we expect this sort of model behavior from Gronk—and we fully expect it from Julian Edelman, though he might try it buck naked.

Fans will no doubt weigh in on Tom’s daring position out of the pocket.

If anything, we must say that time is kinder today to men who want to flaunt what they have.

Capote made new fans with his photo way back when—and we expect that a friendly new following will be adoring Tom Brady as the next gamecock.