Heads Up, Tails Down: Pats & Celts

DATELINE:  Twilight Zone Meets Jaws

With an ice storm on the horizon in Boston, the two championship franchises, the Celtics and the Patriots, were also out of town and out of luck. Every great team has its up and downs.

After our ill-timed braggadocio, life gave us a cold slap in the face with ice pellets. Alas, it was too cold to make lemonade out of the fiasco that befell the Patriots and Celtics on Monday night.

We could not imagine these were the same teams that had been so impressive game after game. What on earth happened to the bright lights?

Miami and Chicago laid the expected victors a harsh dose of reality. No one is perfect, not even Bill Belichick or Brad Stevens.

If ever there was a night for Tom Brady to yell at Josh McDaniels this was it. If ever there was a night for Jaylen Brown to keep wearing his goggles, this was it.

Alas, Brown discarded his glasses and Tom Brady made nice with Josh.

When Jayson Tatum is unable to hit three-pointers and Tom Brady throws an interception and only has a handful of passing yards in the first half, you have crossed through the looking glass. In this case, it’s the mirror Tom Brady broke.

The Chicago Bulls are the worst team in the NBA, and the Miami Dolphins are the toughest opponents the Pats ever face in Miami. Brady has his worst record in 18 years against the Dolphins.

We have to admit the Patriots were without Gronk, who was suspended, and the Celts were without Kyrie Irving who needed some rest.

No matter where Boston fans turned, they were on the edge of the Outer Limits.

Both teams, known for their defensive finesse, showed it wasn’t their night. It was reminiscent of On the Waterfront, when Brando’s boxer complained his brother told him to lose, “It wasn’t my night!”

At half-time we were ready to become fair weather fans for our two teams.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Monday Night Football, Basketball, and Ancient Aliens

Life, Death, & Patriots on Miami Beach

DATELINE:  Tropic of Capricorn

 

All God’s chill’un will be going down with Moses on Sunday in hot spell Miami.

Good Grief, the Patriots left Julian Edelman home. There was not enough reason to pay the freight on his ticket on a charter flight. For good measure Julian’s “Burger Tyme” costar, Chandler, aka Bones, Jones is also not about to risk life and limb in Miami.

Death in Miami Beach used to be a 1950s joke, then it was a South Beach dead man’s joke with Andrew Cunanan. But, the place was the ultimate laugher when LeBron James moved there.

This winter season the Dolphins are in a can like tuna for your cat.

Don’t count on the fact that one spoonful of Dolphin tuna can make you wretchedly sick, enough to lose a home field under ice.

The Patriots have also pulled Don’t’a Hightower off the Do’a Hightower List. That high tower looks scalable now.

This leaves us wondering just who Belichick will pull out of the game plan on game day when you either got game or become the game for the big game hunters. You are starting to smell gamy when the gamecock is plucked.

Tom Brady already looks like General Zaroff’s quarry. And, Coach Campbell Soup is just the dish to eat Brady alive, and we aren’t crackers with this worry.

This Sunday we won’t see Leiningen versus the ants, but the naked jungle of Miami is a place where the smallest creature can be warlike. Just ask Charlton Heston (Gronk) and Eleanor Parker (Brady).

Chris McCain: Wanted for Impersonating a College Player

DATELINE:  Can the Dolphin

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For a few short days, the Dolphins will live, feel dawn, see sunset glow, but then the Patriots will host them at Gillette Stadium, the last refuge of braggadocio scoundrels.

Soon the Dolphins too will lie in tuna factory with the Jets, the Colts, and four other victims of Tom Brady’s “revenge on them all” bunch.

The latest in a long litany of ninnies is Dolphin Chris McCain, not to be confused with Chris Crocker, the dimwit who cried about being fair to Britney Spears and later became a gay porn star.

McCain is in the mold of Sheldon Richardson, Richard Sherman, and a series of loudmouth punks who try to tie their names to Tom Brady. It must have something to do with hoping fifteen minutes of fame will rub off during a 60-minute game. Fat chance.

This Mr. McCain is no war hero and is not related to Senator John McCain. This former California Golden Bear plays for the rejuvenated and deluded Miami Dolphins. About a year ago he posted his Twitter photo that featured him squeezing Tom Brady’s head like it was a walnut.

This bulletin board material will hardly inflame anyone on the Patriots, though Julien Edelman might have some kind of Photoshop response with a tad more wit and a little less subtlety. McCain seems to have stunted mental growth, keeping him at the primary levels of thinking skills.

Kicked off his college team for conduct detrimental to the team, he was signed by Miami—the team that brought you Aaron Hernandez’s best friend, Mike Pouncey, the man with the Free Hernandez cap.

Now that the new Coach Campbell is accepting everything from soup to nuts on his squad, McCain fits right in as the cracker in the bowl of hearty har-har Chicken Noodle soup.

McCain’s claim to fame, besides being expelled from his college football team, is that he boasts a Wikipedia biography of a dozen lines, and not many statistics worth repeating. His Dolphins webpage biography is a sign of diminishing returns. Is there anything there? Is there anyone home?

We expect Gronk to bounce him out of the club on Thursday night.