Mission statement

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free half-formed thoughts for you . . .


1. I know we're supposed to be focusing on football at this hour, but I can't help getting all jacked and pumped for baseball season when I read that Manny Ramirez has been working out at the legendary Athletes Performance Institute in Arizona for the better part of the winter. You know what? Screw that oh-no-he's-beginning-his-decline stuff. Manny's ticked, he's focused, he's probably a little embarrassed, and he's coming back, big-time. I'm thinking .320-36-133, conservatively.

2. Okay, one more Sox item before we swing over to the Pats: Geffner's gone! GEFFNER'S GONE!!! WHEEEEE-HOOOOOOOO!!! BREAK OUT THE ZIMA, SOX GAMES ARE LISTENABLE AGAIN! (Deep breath. Fist pump! Okay, calm. YESSS! Calm. Deep breath.) Beyond the fact that even Joe Castiglione must be thrilled that his media guide-spewing, ridiculously unqualified sidekick is departing for a job with the Marlins, it's curious that another perceived underling/lackey of Larry Lucchino is out the door, not long after Dr. Charles took his patented schmaltz to Los Angeles. Hmmm. Almost makes you think Theo's running the whole show now, doesn't it?

3. Here's a fun hypothetical for you: What devious scheme do you think Bill Belichick would come up with to stop - or should I say attempt to stop - this Patriots' offense? Obviously, his credentials need no rehash here, but it's still worth noting that he's the mastermind who thwarted both the K-Gun Bills and the Greatest Show on Turf Rams, two of the most prolific offenses of all time. Of course, the rules were different then - his defenses could knock the living snot out of the receivers, which brings us to a great point in this Washington Post article sent along by Official TATB Antagonist Donovan Burba. Namely, that the Patriots have taken advantage of a rule change that Bill Polian and the nefarious competition committee thought would ruin them:

"When the NFL rule-makers cracked down four years ago on clutching-and-grabbing tactics by defensive players to try to open up the passing game, the move widely was viewed as a response to the rugged way in which the New England Patriots had played defense on their way to their first two Super Bowl titles.

"That 2004 directive by the league's competition committee changed the way the game is played, perhaps forever. It has led to a rewriting of the record book. And, oddly enough, it set the stage for the Patriots to become arguably the most dominant team in league history this season as they chase an unbeaten season and their fourth Super Bowl championship with an offense orchestrated by Coach Bill Belichick and quarterback Tom Brady.

"The very rule once thought to be more detrimental to the Patriots than to any other NFL club has become a crucial asset, yet another example of how the franchise has become a dynasty because Belichick and his front office are more adaptable than anyone else in the league."

If that isn't delicious irony, I don't know what is. Somewhere, Polian just punted his hairless cat, slapped his manservant, then fired his glass of scotch against the wall.

4. Just when I was beginning to wonder if Ray Allen was careening headlong into that Over-32 wall that seems to affect virtually every star shooting guard not named Jordan or Miller, he goes out and delivers a vintage 35-point performance against a very impressive Portland Trail Blazers team. So for the moment I'm convinced that Mr. Shuttlesworth is still capable of a major star turn when the moment calls for it, provided Doc Rivers has the common sense to give him the necessary rest the next few months. It would also be swell if Danny Ainge could find a suitable backup point guard so Allen doesn't have to expend energy with additional ballhandling duties. He's a shooter, still. Let that be his focus.

5. Let's put it this way: If Roger Clemens goes before Congress willingly, I'll eat his lawyer's hairpiece. In the biggest moments, he's always shriveled and tried to find the coward's way out. Why should that change now? I fully expect that if he does end up having to testify, he'll pull out his old standby and try to limp out of the proceedings halfway through with the trusty "tweaked" groin excuse. Desperate man, desperate measures. (And if you haven't seen this yet, Esquire absolutely destroys him with this point-by-point list of his all-time scumbag transgressions, appropriately titled, "The Wonderful, Despicable Life of Roger Clemens." You know I loved it.

6. Nice of Jason Garrett to let Wade Phillips stick around on his staff in Dallas, isn't it? Phillips doesn't strike me as the sharpest tool in the shed - I believe the past phrase I used to describe his coaching style was "Pete Carroll with man-boobs," and I'm sticking with it - but even he has to know he's a dead-man walking in Dallas. No one's admitting it, but Jerry Jones simply had to promise Garrett one of two things to get him to turn down head coaching gigs in Baltimore and Atlanta to stay as the Cowboys' offensive coordinator: That he'd be Phillips's eventual successor as head coach - and, shhh, don't tell Wade, but sooner rather than later - or that he'd could take Jessica Simpson to Cabo and give her the Romo treatment for the week. Probably the former, I suppose.

7. The Baltimore Orioles haven't done a whole hell of a lot right in recent seasons, but shipping Miguel Tejada to the Houston Astros the day before the Mitchell Report was made public was inspired. That's just the kind of sneaky I like.

8. Even though the dynamics weren't quite right this season, I'm still going through serious "The Office" withdrawal. Can't imagine there's any chance the season can be salvaged given how long the writers' strike is expected to last.

9. I was as annoyed by Rodney Harrison's unnecessary penalties against the Jaguars as anyone, but as far as I'm concerned he can keep on spearing that floppy-armed motormouth Philip Rivers until he has one of his bloody ribs dangling from his facemask. And that goes double if Rivers isn't actually playing in the game.

10. As for today's Completely Random Football Card:


I mentioned my boyhood adulation of J.J. and the rest of the Air Coryell Chargers before last year's San Diego-New England playoff showdown, and so the rules of superstition and jinxes dictate we mention them again this time around. Hey, at least I'm not tempting fate by comparing the Pats to the '86 Celts before they actually win the damn thing like some people. Sheesh.

First and 10: Patriots 34, Steelers 13

1. In the aftermath of Sunday's thoroughly enjoyable dissection of the Pittsburgh Steelers, an opponent that once again talked a better game than it played, I was left with one lingering question: Is it possible that the Patriots are actually better than they're currently getting credit for? Take a glance at the standings, and you'll realize that they've encountered more than their share of high-quality opponents on their way to 13-0. Consider: They've defeated two teams that already locked up their division (Dallas, Indy), clobbered two teams that current lead their division (San Diego, Pittsburgh), and beat a second-place team (Cleveland) that deserves nothing but respect. The combined record of those five teams, minus their five losses to the Patriots: 48-12. In my usual roundabout way, this is what I'm trying to say: I'm finally convinced that 19-0 is realistic, and perhaps even likely. Imagine that.

2. We won't waste much bandwidth here on Steelers safety Anthony Smith's ridiculous "guarantee"; his public humiliation at Gillette Stadium stands as the ultimate response. But I will say that I can't recall Bill Belichick ever disparaging an opposing player to the media, which made his postgame comment about Smith ("We've played against much better safeties than him") all the more telling. He clearly has exactly zero respect for the player, and I'm not sure if Smith is sharp enough to realize this, but his comments succeeded only in pinning a bull's-eye on his own uniform. Maybe next time he'll realize it's not wise to offer bulletin-board material to a team that thrives on turning even perceived slights into on-field fury.


3. Of course I realize Tom Brady is having a season for the ages, but you know what really hammered it home for me Sunday? When CBS put up a simple graphic late in the game that showed his number of touchdown passes alongside his interceptions. I mean, 45 to 5? A 9-to-1 ratio? That's just sick. The only time you ever see stats that swollen is when you play Madden in the franchise mode at the Pro level. (Not that I've ever done such a thing, of course. I'm an adult. A father. A man of responsibility. Mature. I have no time for video games. Think my wife's buying it yet?) My point: If Brady maintains this record pace and the Pats do run the table en route to a fourth championship, how can anyone make the case that there's been a better quarterback in the history of the league? I mean, I know Montana and Unitas and Elway and Marino have their admirers, and Peter King will surely tell us that Tony Romo leads the league in smiles and that no one gives a better foot massage than Brett Favre, but it terms of genuine accomplishment - statistically and in the win column - won't Brady's resume as The Greatest be undeniable?

4. I've written this before, multiple times, but after his seven-catch, 122-yard performance, I have to ask the question again: How in the hell was Jabar Gaffney out of the league for more than a month last season? You'll recall that the Pats brought him in as a street free agent Oct. 9, 36 days after he was released by the Eagles. He ended up emerging as Brady's most dependable receiver in the postseason, catching 21 passes in three games, and considering how many receivers have struggled to learn the Patriots playbook (Donald Hayes should have it solved any day now), his quick acclimation was tribute to his intelligence. He's not big, and he's not particularly fast, but he's a very good and reliable football player, and I'm coming to appreciate him more with each passing week. Why the Texans and Eagles, not to mention all the teams that passed him up on waivers, failed to recognize his attributes remains a mystery.

5. I suppose you could insert your own HGH joke here, but it must be noted that Rodney Harrison has been playing out of his mind since the beginning of the fourth quarter of the Ravens game. I was beginning to think the years and the injuries had sapped him of his Hall of Fame skills, but ol' No. 37 has looked five years younger lately, and that's a wonderful development considering safety play was one of our few legitimate concerns about this team. Now, if only the long-lost Eugene Wilson could experience a similar revival. I did see him on the field against the Steelers, which counts as progress.

6. Quick Red Sox note: I keep catching myself hoping that the Johan Santana deal happens, even though all logic tells me that the smartest decision would be to hang on to Jacoby Ellsbury and/or Jon Lester, along with the rest of the prospect ransom the Twins would require for the two-time Cy Young winner. I'm suspicious that Santana, at 28, has already peaked, especially when I hear those alarming reports that he was reluctant to throw his slider last season. But . . . there's just enough of a chance that he's capable of being baseball's premier pitcher for another three or four seasons that the thought of him pitching for the Red Sox is tantalizing, and I'll admit part of the reason I'd like to see him here is to keep him away from the Yankees, who remain so desperate for a true ace. I'm sure I'll experience some level of buyer's remorse should the deal happen, but right now I'm hoping Santana is in Boston come opening day.

7. I always think - actually, make that hope - the Patriots are going to take a linebacker high in the draft, whether it was Lofa Tatupu three seasons ago or Patrick Willis or Jon Beason this season. For a variety or reasons, they never do. But - and I know we're getting well ahead of ourselves here - I think it finally happens this season. I'm convinced that if the Patriots do end up with the No. 2 pick in the draft, they'll take Virginia's Chris Long, a defensive end who is expected to switch to outside linebacker in the pros. Everything you hear about him - he's versatile and athletic, his motor never stops, his football intelligence is off the charts - makes him sound like a Mike Vrabel clone, and his pedigree is certainly impressive: he's the son of Hall of Famer Howie Long. He sounds like just the kind of player Belichick and Scott Pioli covet, and while the common belief is that the Patriots like Arkansas running back Darren McFadden, I'm betting that Long will ultimately be their guy.

8. I've always appreciated the work Gil Santos and Gino Cappelletti do on the Patriots' broadcast. They're the voices of autumn in these parts, as familiar and comfortable as an old flannel shirt, and considering how Jonathan Kraft always comes across as an arrogant snot whenever he's interviewed (not to mention that he's responsible for the shrieking abomination that is Andy Gresh) I have no faith that he'll find worthy replacements for them when the time comes. Sad to say, I fear the time is coming. It's not an exaggeration to say it's a surprise at this point when they properly identify a pass catcher on the first try, and it was hardly unexpected that they bungled the two biggest plays of the past two weeks: Gaffney's winning catch at Baltimore (Gil originally called it incomplete, then said he couldn't see it), and the Brady-to-Moss-to-Brady-to-Gaffney flea-flicker Sunday (Gil told us Donte' Stallworth caught the TD). Maybe what they need is a competent spotter to help them quickly with player IDs and such, but right now it feels like the game has become too fast for them to keep up at a sufficient level of competence.

9. As I write this, the snow-globe scene outside the living room window has me in the holiday spirit, and having said all we have to say on the New England football juggernaut (dude, they're awesome!), well, what the heck, here are five TATB-sanctioned Christmas songs:

1. "Christmas Time Is Here," Vince Guaraldi Trio: When I was in first grade, I drew such a kick-ass, spot-on Snoopy that I was convinced I was going to grow up to work for - and eventually replace - Charles Schulz. (Actually, I can probably admit now that I often traced my Snoopy masterpieces. I was like a 7-year-old Larry Johnson, except I knew something about sports.) In all seriousness, my affection for the Peanuts is genuine to this day - this occupies a prominent spot in my home office - and it was much to my satisfaction that my 3-year-old daughter began the majority of her days this summer by insisting upon watching her "A Charlie Brown Christmas" DVD as she devoured her Cheerios. Even in July, it sure beats the hell out of watching Elmo.

2. "Blue Christmas," Elvis: A much more appropriate and appealing option than his lesser-known, late-career holiday single, "All I Want For Christmas Is A Peanut Butter-Banana-And-Quaalude Sandwich."

3. "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," The Carpenters: Forget that freaky brother-sister dynamic. You know Karen had the voice of an angel. A really skinny angel, sure, but an angel nonetheless. (Too soon?)

4. "Merry Christmas, Alabama," Jimmy Buffett: The heartfelt way he sings "Merry Christmas, Tenn-uh-see" . . . well, not to get too sappy, but it just sounds so genuine and sincere. It's a wonder Kenny Chesney hasn't released a thinly disguised knockoff himself already. I'm assuming "Alabama, Have A Merry Christmas," will be ready in time for Christmas '08.

5. "Same Old Lang Syne," Dan Fogelberg: Sure, the lyrics are hackneyed ("We took her groceries to the checkout stand/
The food was totaled up and bagged" Wha?) and it's generally cheesier than Rosie O'Donnell's quads, but it still stands alone as the greatest recorded tribute to getting bleep-faced with an ex in the front seat of her car in a grocery store parking lot on Christmas Eve. So it's got that going for it, which is nice.

10. As for today's Completely Random Football Card:


Only someone who's endured multiple concussions could find a way to rank the Steelers ahead of the Patriots today. C'mon, you can do it, Merrill. Fire off those last three working synapses and come up with some with some justification for dismissing the Patriots today.

Catching up

It's about time somebody wrote something around here, so let's go . . .

I realize it's disappointing that he hasn't hit like he did in Cleveland, but I don't see how anyone can watch Coco Crisp on a daily basis and not develop a deep appreciation for how he plays the game. This was brought up in the comments a column or so ago, and it's so right on that it's worth reiterating here: Crisp is the very embodiment of the things a dirt dog is supposed to be, all hustle and desire and energy, and yet for some curious reason, he gets very little credit for that, especially from those who you suspect once owned a Darren Bragg replica jersey and think Jeff Frye was a hell of a second baseman. Maybe Coco needs to start wearing a dirtier hat or something. (Note: This was written before he drove that hotheaded moron Daniel Cabrera to the brink of homicide tonight. Another checkmark in Coco's favor.)

After all the shots I've taken at Barry Bonds and Jason Giambi over the years, I'd shatter the Hypocrisy Meter if I told you I really don't care that Rodney Harrison took HGH, and that I'm convinced he'd be in the minority among NFL players if he didn't use something to enhance his chances of surviving so many brutal Sundays. So let's leave it at this: I'm stunned that Harrison, who has always struck me as one of the league's brighter players, was so naive as to use his own name and address when ordering the stuff. Because that's the only way they were going to catch him.

Am I wrong to wonder if the Patriots might get off to a slower start than people are expecting? I mean, Harrison and Richard Seymour are out, Asante Samuel is begging for a hamstring pull, Tom Brady hasn't had a lot of time to get on the same page with new receivers Randy Moss and Donte' Stallworth . . . and they have to deal with the Jets and the Chargers right out of the gate. I realize that only a fool would underestimate this team, but right now it might be wise to avoid overestimating them as well.

I'm not saying Tito Francona is flawless as a manager - sometimes he does leave his starters in too long, sometimes he's too loyal to his veterans - but those banshees who call 'EEI for the sole purpose of venting about "Francoma" have forgetten what a lousy manager looks like. Even on his worst night, I still consider him the best manager the Red Sox have had in my lifetime, especially when you consider how well he deals with the peripheral distractions such as the smothering media and a voracious fan base. Let Joe Kerrigan or Kevin Kennedy return to the dugout for a week and those mouthbreathing morons would be begging for Tito back.

All right, Geffner, we'll say it one more time: Put down the media guide and step away from the microphone, and no more eardrums have to get hurt. (Please, somebody tell me that the rumors Dave O'Brien will be full-time next season are true. Please. I'm begging here.)

Other stuff we wrote while were away from this place: Last week's Fox column (chock full o' Yankee-aimed cheap shots), this week's Fox column (featuring a rather unfortunately timed tribute to Rick Ankiel, who apparently more like Rodney Harrison than he is Roy Hobbs), and a piece for GameDay on the Sox' stellar rookie class.

I keep checking Joe Posnanski's blog on the hope that he might have sneaked back and cranked out some wonderful, whimsical piece on The Top 40 Lefthanded Specialists Since 1970 or something, but so far, the lights are still out at what fast became my favorite stop (make that PG-rated stop) on the internet. Hopefully he'll start it up again when he has another book to promote, because just about every time I read his stuff, I was reminded of why I like baseball and why I like writing, and I do miss those daily reminders.

I thought he should have stayed in the big leagues the first time he got called up, but the more I see of Jacoby Ellsbury (who looks like some odd hybrid of Mark Teixeira and Johnny Damon), the more I think he should be starting in right field come Game 1 of the ALDS. I don't think I'm being hyperbolic to say he's done more to help the Red Sox win in his 40-something at-bats this season than Drew has in 400-something. It's gotten to the point with Drew that I don't even get mad anymore when he inevitably does exactly what they don't need him to do in a particular at-bat; he's pathetic, and he's made me apathetic. I'm beyond having any expectations for him. I just want to know why, for the first time in his career, he's not hitting at all. It must be the shoulder, right?

Based on their "contributions" during their time with the Red Sox, I still have a hard time wrapping my head around the concept of Tony Clark and Darren Oliver being major leaguers in 2007, let alone productive ones.

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:


He damn well better be wearing his jersey under that jacket.

* * *NOW FOR THE IMPORTANT NEWS OF THE WEEK * * *

I imagine you know what I'm talking about, since 23 of you (yep, I counted) emailed me the past two days to tell me that Jenna Fischer, the Official Muse of TATB (Non-Wife Division) . . .

(meow . . . love the Elvira look)

. . . is separated from her husband. Now as flattering as it is to know that you all consider me to be the World's Preeminent Jenna Fischer Internet Stalker (or, as my friend Melissa put it, "Don't sell yourself short, you're the World's Preeminent Jenna Fischer Internet Stalker Blogger. You're not just some layabout stalker"), well, it's just that I'm thinking that her stunning declaration of free agency probably isn't going to benefit me a whole hell of a lot, given that I'm poor, anonymous, bitter, humorless, gimpy, based in Maine, in no danger of landing a modeling contract, and, last time I checked with my wife, still married. (This would be a good time to quote Lloyd Christmas: "So you're saying I've got a chance?")

Anyway, it's nice that you thought of me - yes, even you, Rob M., who wrote this: "When you posted the 'Through Any Window,' video that Jenna's in, I just assumed that's how you planned on getting into her house." Gotta admit, that's well-played.

In all seriousness, it was surprising to read that news, if only because Jenna and her husband, actor/writer/director James Gunn (a vulgar riot on his MySpace page), always seemed to make a point in saying how important their spouse was to their happiness and success. She often referred to him as her "real-life Jim," and they seemed as sincere and stable as a Hollywood couple could be, though in retrospect maybe it was just another acting role for both of them. I am curious what the real story is. My wife has a very interesting theory that might just have some credence (not to mention a great visual). I tend to think that it's either a case of career jealousy - he was successful and she was unknown when they got married, and now she's off getting her boobs squeezed on the big screen by Will Ferrell - or someone got busted messing around. Either way, James Gunn will no longer be referred to as the luckiest &^%&$# in the world. Maybe the stupidest, depending on what the truth is.

And so as we conclude this TATB Hollywood Minute, check out this hilarious promo for the upcoming season of "The Office." I'd say "30 percent more unpredictable" is working, wouldn't you?

That's the best Aquafina I've ever had, bro

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free goodies from Michael Vick's hidden compartment for you . . .

1. We'd be remiss if we didn't offer a tip of the dirty cap to Trot Nixon, whose 14-season tenure with the Red Sox organization officially came to an end today when he signed a one-year, $3 million deal with Cleveland. Trot was never one of our personal favorites - we thought his Dirt Dog persona allowed him to get away with certain flaws and blunders that other, less-gritty types were incessantly harangued for - but we have always respected him for how much he genuinely appreciated playing for the Red Sox. And as Roger Clemens, Jason Marquis, or Rich Harden can tell you, he's had his share of unforgettable moments. We're not disappointed he's gone, but given that he was one of The 25 (only eight remain, sadly), the least we can do is wish him well.

2. It's not only "SportsCenter" that gives an inordinate amount of air and space to sports' most prolific idiots - apparently, the Forum-For-Morons philosophy in Bristol also applies to ESPN The Magazine, which managed to cram features about Albert Haynesworth, Ron Artest, and Bode Miller into it's last edition. (What, was T.O. unavailable?) The biggest upset of all wasn't that all three are (sob) misunderstood, but that Haynesworth (a divorce-bound psycho) receives some words of encouragement during a random encounter with a Lamborghini-driving Rodney Harrison at a Waffle House in Atlanta. Read that last sentence again, and I'll bet you find yourself asking the same three questions I did: 1) Rodney Harrison drives a Lamborghini? 2) Rodney Harrison hangs out at Waffle House? 3) Why the hell was Rodney Harrison doing driving his Lamborghini to a Waffle House in Atlanta during the middle of the season? It's almost too much for my pea brain to comprehend.

3. We tend to avoid linking to You Tube videos around here, mostly because we tend to skip them without a second thought when we see them on other sites. But because I'm running low on time and topics tonight, I figured I'd imbed a couple on here that readers have sent me in recent days, with the seal of approval that they are worth your time. Hey, we never said we were consistent.

The first was sent along a couple days ago from one of my old cohorts at the Concord Monitor, and let's just say it's the most damning evidence yet that the Chargers have no business yelping about another team's lack of class:



The second video here is to the trailer for the upcoming Will Ferrell movie "Blades of Glory," which looks from this angle to be the figure skating version of "Talledega Nights" - in other words, it can't miss. This clip was sent along by one of the film's marketing people, and I'm putting it on here even though he couldn't deliver on my offer to run it only if he introduced me to a certain one of the film's co-stars. Hmm, I guess we don't have as much clout in Hollywood as we thought:



4. I'm only about three-quarters through it after opening the cover yesterday, but I can say without hesitation that Jack McCallum's ":07 Seconds Or Less," an insider's account of the 2005-'06 Phoenix Suns, is the most enjoyable and insightful NBA book I've read since first devouring David Halberstam's timeless "The Breaks of the Game" 20-something years ago. I'm an NBA guy, but this book has confirmed my suspicion that the league would be infinitely more entertaining and aesthetically pleasing if there were, oh, 25 more coaches like Mike D'Antoni. (Cloning Steve Nash wouldn't be a bad idea, either.) Seriously, check it out, and while you're at it, pick up "Unfinished Business," McCallum's first foray into the season-with-a-team genre about the 1990-'91 Celtics. It's worth it for the Bird and McHale anecdotes alone.

5. Color us mildly intrigued by the Sox's signing of journeyman outfielder Alex Ochoa. I know that's not exactly a ringing endorsement, but I was surprised to learn upon checking out his numbers on baseball-reference.com that he was a .279 hitter overall in his eight big-league seasons, and he hit lefties at a .287 clip. Factor in that he has one of the best outfield arms in the game, and I'm wondering if his arrival suggests that Wily Mo Pena isn't long for Boston.

6. Greg Oden looks so old, I'm pretty sure he played alongside Dr, J on the Virginia Squires . . . Greg Oden looks so old, he could play LeBron's gramps in those Nike ads . . . Greg Oden looks so old, I'm wondering if he and Clifford Ray have ever been seen in the same room together . . . all right, I think I've got a season's worth of lame Oden's Age jokes out of my system now . . .

7. . . . in a related note, the Celtics have 12 wins at the moment. Doing some quick math here on my abacus, that means I hope they finish with no fewer than 70 losses. Paul Pierce can take the rest of the season off for all I care. The best thing to happen to the franchise would be to tank this season, cross their fingers for a little luck with the ping-pong balls, and land a true franchise player such as Oden (who's no sure thing to leave Ohio State) or Texas's phenomenal freshman Kevin Durant. We might as well face it - getting a certified future superstar on draft night is their only chance to escape from this dull cycle of mediocrity.

8. Can't say I blame Notre Dame wide receiver Jeff Samardzija for choosing his burgeoning pitching career with the Cubs over the chance to be a first-round pick in this year's NFL - it's hard to fault anyone for wanting to walk at age 50. But Samardzija, who drew comparisons to ex-Bronco Ed McCaffrey because . . . well, because he's tall, white, and pretty damn good, is a player the Kipers of the world had pegged going to the Patriots late in the first round. And considering the kid's Charlie Weis endorsement, that might have made some sense. I am curious if he will be selected at all - who knows, by the time the draft rolls around in April, he might be done with baseball after Lou Piniella blows his arm out in spring training.

9. All right, people, convince me it's not going to come down to Vinatieri. Because right now I just can't shake the feeling that ol' No. 4 is destined to decide this thing.

10. As for today's Completely Random Football Card:

Should the Colts and Saints prevail this Sunday, Peyton's Stage Daddy will be more ubiquitous than Rachael Ray over the next two weeks. And no one wants that.

You ain't a beauty, but hey, you're all right

Face-down in a stream of semi-consciousness while Bruce thunders through my earbuds . . .


RED SOX/MLB
My hypothetical Hall of Fame ballot would look like this: Cal Ripken (as obvious as it gets, though his .276 career average raises at least one of my eyebrows), Tony Gwynn (how I wish the strike hadn't interrupted his run at .400 in '94; he had the ability and demeanor to pull it off), Goose Gossage (the second-best closer I've ever seen after Mo Rivera, I'm still dumbstruck that Bruce Sutter beat him to Cooperstown), Andre Dawson (438 homers, 318 stolen bases, 8 Gold Gloves . . . had he spend his heyday in Boston or New York instead of playing in front of Youppi!, you bet he'd be in already), and Jim Rice (okay, I'm biased because he was nice to me when I was 8 years old . . . but he was the most dominating hitter in the American League for a decade, and I find it ridiculous that he's punished for not being mediocre at the end of his career and fattening up his career totals with three or four .257-15-75 seasons.) . . . As for Mark McGwire: Uh-uh. Not yet, anyway. I need more information about just how many big-league ballplayers were juicing, particularly during the fraudulent summer of '98, before I cast a final judgment here . . . I suppose you could call me hypocrite for this, but I would vote for Barry Bonds. My contention is that he was a Hall of Fame lock even before he started gulping down and injecting every concoction this side of battery acid . . . Come to think of it, I think I'd also vote for Alan Trammell, a great-field, great-hit shortstop who was the heart of some fine Tigers teams and who was absolutely robbed of the MVP in '87 . . . Let's see, he's 43, famously surly, is coming off back surgery, had an ERA of 5.00 last year, is a mechanical mess, makes something like $16 million next year, and has the nerve to ask for a contract extension. Yep, I completely understand why the Diamondbacks would consider giving the Yankees a quality prospect or two for Randy Johnson. You're a sly one, Josh Byrnes . . . Barry Zito's K-rate has been shrinking as his walk rate has grown, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I thought he was on his way to become this decade's Steve Avery. Yet, unlike ESPN's excellent Keith Law, I'm not repulsed by the $126 million contract that Giants threw his way. He is durable, he's not yet 30, he's a hell of a competitor, he's immensely likeable, he still has quality stuff despite some lost velocity, and in the feeble National League, I don't see why he can't average 16-18 wins for the first three or four years of his deal. Will he be worth all that money? Of course not. But he won't be Mike Hampton, either . . . Don't know if I've ever mentioned this here or not, but one of my coolest memories at Fenway is standing on the field, oh, 40 feet from Zito before Game 3 of the 2003 ALCS and watching him snap off curveball after curveball while trying to work out some mechanical kinks with pitching coach Rick Peterson. Having seen it live and up close, I honestly have no idea how anyone ever hits Zito's hook - the thing just disappears - and the funny part is, he seemed pissed about how supposedly poorly he was throwing it that day. I always think of that when I find myself forgetting how amazingly talented and dedicated these guys have to be just get to the big leagues . . . The opening day closer for your Boston Red Sox? Right now, my money is on Manny Delcarmen. I'm talking myself into believing in the kid . . . Okay, I'm really starting to worry that J.D. Drew is stuck in an MRI tube somewhere. Is this thing going to get done or what?

PATRIOTS/NFL
Maybe I'm in denial, but I'm still clinging to a granule of hope that Rodney Harrison will spend Sunday scaring the courage out of Jerricho Cotchery and Laveranues Coles. And if he really can't go this week, then I'll transfer my optimism to next week. After all Harrison's been through, I'm skeptical that a ligament sprain is going to end his season now . . . Even sans Rodney, I think the Pats pound the Jets, which should scare the living hell out of those of you who bleed red and blue considering my record on predictions this season is rather similar to the Raiders' won-lost record . . . But the Patriots are a better team, they have a better coach and a better quarterback, they're much healthier than they were during the Jets' upset at Gillette, they won't be caught napping this time, the field (the great equalizer the last time around) is obviously in much better condition, and Hank Poteat is starting at corner for the Jets. Seems to me that's a lot of check marks in their favor . . . He might be a latte-swilling, self-aggrandizing oaf, but Peter King still gets it right football-wise every once in a while: He had the sense to put Ty Warren on his All-Pro team . . . Dennis Green IS WHAT WE THOUGHT HE WAS!!! (A completely inept NFL coach) . . . He's fun to watch, no doubt, but Michael Vick is the very definition of a coach-killer. If I'm running the Falcons, I shop Mr. Mexico in the offseason, with the hopes of getting 90 cents on the dollar, then take my chances with Matt Schaub. They might not sell as much merchandise, but they'd be a better team . . . If Tony Romo doesn't find his mojo soon, he can forget about Carrie Underwood, because his "American Idol" dating pool is going to be reduced to William Hung and that big chick who was kicked off the show for doing nudie pics . . . Does Drew Bledsoe still go to the games? Really? Are we sure that's not just a propped-up Fathead?. . . I used to think Matt Millen must have compromising pictures of the Lions' owner to keep his job despite conclusive proof that he is an incompetent boob, but now I think it has to be something more sinister, like, say, a snuff film involving Marty Mornhinweg, or maybe a picture of William Clay Ford wearing a cheesehead. But now that we know that Millen is staying, at least we have a pretty good idea of where Dwayne Jarrett will end up . . . If Bill Belichick is duplicitous pond scum, as the old insult goes, then what does that make Nick Saban? Something unprintable, I'm thinking. Alabama is lusting after one slippery creep of a coach. . . You get the sense that Tiki Barber never passes a mirror without lingering to admire himself for a moment? I give him credit for getting out while all of his parts are still in working order, but geez, you'd think he's season-long Life After Football seminar might be off-putting to a few of his teammates who still put a high priority on their day job . . . Now that everyone has low expectations for them, is it possible that this is the year Peyton and the Ponies get to the Super Bowl? Nahhhhhhh . . . Herm Edwards does have the good sense to run Larry Johnson 40 times against Indy's horrendous run defense, right? He's not going to pull a Josh McDaniels and shun all common sense in favor of the passing game, right? Right? Herm? . . . I fear Baltimore, assuming Steve McNair can keep his leprosy in remission for the postseason. He's always been a quarterback who's much better than his statistics, and their defense is so deep, Ray Lewis might be their fourth-best linebacker at this point . . . So Matt Leinart is hooking up with Britney Spears now? Geez, guess he probably didn't see those pictures, huh? . . . Man, the NFC is just horrendous. If I had to pick one team from the Junior Varsity Conference to get to the Super Bowl, I suppose I'd go with Seattle, for no other reason than Shaun Alexander is finally healthy . . . Think I'm rooting for Philly, though. Andy Reid has my eternal respect (and probably his team's, too) for basically telling T.O. to bleep himself last season . . . All I knew about Darrent Williams was that he was a royal pest against the Patriots, and right now I'm wishing that's all I still knew. Mike Shanahan's heartfelt testimonial made Williams sound like a genuinely nice kid, one we'd all have enjoyed knowing. What a shame that we now know him as one more young American who met a senseless demise at the end of a gun.

* * *

As for today's reason The Office's Jenna Fischer is the Official Muse of TATB, Increasingly Annoyed Wife Excluded:


Not only is she melt-the-waistband-on-your-underoos hot, but she's downright funny . . . and in that mean sort of way we kind of dig around here. Check out the punchline on this snippet from her blog yesterday, and tell me you didn't at least snicker:

A lot of people I know ask me "What is it like to be famous?" Well, I'm only a little bit famous and it has been adjustment. When I'm out in public and people are looking at me shop or buy coffee or get gas, it takes some actual effort to be my authentic self. People make snap judgments about you and those stories stick. I'm guilty of it myself. I've met a few celebrities and later gone to a party and said something like, "Oh, I met her – bad skin." As if that one 30 second encounter is all I needed to make such a sweeping judgment. My skin is pretty nice most of the time but right now I have 3 giant zits. Anyone who has met me in the last 4 days probably thinks I have horrible skin. I don't wear much makeup when I'm not working. My choices are: put on makeup to cover my bad skin (which is what gives me the breakouts in the first place) or walk around zits galore and let the judgments fall where they may. I choose option two. And, by the way, this is why I love Britney Spears. She is Option 2 all the time.

And somewhere, Matt Leinart itches himself and wonders why doesn't get the joke.

First and 10: Patriots 40, Dirty Rotten Titans 23

1. So the Jets it is, huh? I suppose this makes it an easy week for the Felgers and Ordways of the world, who can yowl about Handshakegate and crank up the hype machine to full-throttle. Yep, we're getting the Border War matchup the banshees have desired all along . . . and the funny thing is, I suspect it's the matchup Bill Belichick would prefer as well. The Patriots are a superior team to the Jets in terms of talent and accomplishment, but given an additional week of preparation and catching the Patriots on a short week, Eric Mangini took his estranged mentor to the woodshed last time around, pulling off an upset as convincing as it was stunning. You have to figure a vengeful Belichick will make sure it won't happen again, especially given the fact that his team already knows the consequences of underestimating the Jets. Further, an optimist might argue that the Patriots are peaking at the right time - the turnover-free road victories over physically tough Tennessee and Jacksonville were encouraging to say the least, reminiscent of the way they won so many games in '03 and '04. I like this team a lot right now, and judging by his demeanor lately, I think Belichick does too. Of course, that's not going to stop him from showing them the grisly footage from the Jets' loss 20 times this week. Another loss to the Sons of Richard Todd? It's as unacceptable as it is unlikely.

2. I understand why Dick Enberg occasionally fumbles his words - god bless him, he's been blurting out his trademark "Oh, my!" since Red Grange was galloping around in a leather helmet. But what's his partner Randy Cross's excuse? He must be still suffering from post-concussion syndrome from his Niners' days or something, because he is unlistenable. He botches players names chronically, turns an anecdote into a mind-numbing miniseries (tell me again why Jeff Fisher doesn't like having the scores announced), and comes across in a joking manner that might be tolerable if it wasn't a device to mask his lack of preparation. Please come back, Phil Simms. We took you for granted, and we even promise to never again peg you with a snowball.

3. I'm still not comfortable with him being this team's de facto No. 1 wide receiver. But Reche Caldwell has convinced me that he's a worthy replacement for David Givens, and considering the piles of money that so many less productive wideouts received in free agency, you'd have to consider him perhaps the best bargain of the offseason.

4. Looks like accomplished cheap-shot artist Kevin Mawae has shared a few of his dirty tricks to his Tennessee teammates. You know a team is dirty when you come away with the impression that they're a roster full of lawless lowlifes, then realize that Skull Stompin' Albert Haynesworth wasn't even involved. Not that our own Rodney Harrison is a Lady Byng winner; there is a smidgen of irony in the fact that he was taken out by a dirty play. Of course, recognizing such irony didn't prevent me from spewing a string of expletives as Harrison writhed on the ground. He's played so well since he came back, and losing him at this point would be crushing.


5. Every time someone tries to tell you that Belichick is bloodless Xs-and-0s-spouting automaton, keep in mind that he has set aside a play in the season finale each of the past two years to give an old favorite one final moment for the highlight reel. Last year, it was Doug Flutie with the dropkick. This year, Vinny Testaverde got to throw one last touchdown pass, giving him at least one in a record 20 consecutive seasons. Ask me, such consideration makes Belichick downright sentimental.

6. Man, Ed Hochuli just kills me - the three-sizes-too-small shirt and "Welcome to the gun show" flexing when he announces a penalty is so narcissistic and transparent, I half expect that on one of these Sundays, he's going to show up shirtless, with zebra stripes painted onto his torso.


7. I suppose there's some correlation between his ascent to the starting job and the Titans' revival . . . but there is no doubt that Vince Young has a lonnngg way to go to become the quarterback the "He wins games!" mythmakers claim he already is. To borrow the words of Gil Santos: "This kid can run, but he's not so good at throwing it." Ain't that the truth - I haven't seen so many bounced screen passes since the days before Drew Bledsoe became acquainted with Mo Lewis. Ditching the Byung Hyun Kim delivery might be a place to start.

8. Adam "Pacman" Jones is a cross between Deion Sanders and Ol' Dirty Bastard. He could end up playing in a half-dozen Pro Bowls, or he could end up hosting "The Playas Ball VI: Titan Pimp!" Right now, I'd say the odds are slightly tilted toward the latter.

9. He has a nose for the end zone, always seems to get 37 inches on 3d and 1, and needs a gurney to get off the field after any run over 25 yards. Yep, I'd say Corey Dillon is morphing into Antowain Smith, and that's really not such a bad thing - hell, most aging backs turn into Marion Butts. Besides, the Patriots did win two Super Bowls with the affable Smith playing a crucial role, and Dillon, despite his creaky wheels, quietly had a very productive season, scoring 13 rushing touchdowns to tie the franchise single-season record set by some guy named Curtis Martin in 1995 and 1996. He's not what he used to be, but he's still pretty darn useful nonetheless.

10. As for today's Completely Random Football Card:


I'm guessing he didn't win a whole hell of a lot of playoff games with the Patriots, either.

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Happy New Year's, and thanks for making this little blog so fun and rewarding. I sincerely appreciate the fact that you take a moment in your day to check in and read what we have to say. Here's hoping 2007 brings the fulfillment of all your dreams. (Quietly humming "Same Old Lang Syne" . . . you know, the kick-ass Dan Fogelberg version . . .)

* * *

One more thing before I go pound whatever remaining Sam Adams Winter Lager we have left over from Christmas: This was probably my favorite sports column of the past year. It's a thoughtful reminder of why we became fans in the first place, and it seems appropriate now, on a day meant for new beginnings. Enjoy

First and 10: Patriots 24, Jaguars 21

1. Heard Belichick's taped postgame interview on 'EEI today, and it was almost disconcerting how giddy, animated, and downright chatty he was in the immediate aftermath of the victory. Hell, he even asked Steve DeOssie and Pete Sheppard for their opinions on Jack Del Rio's decision not to go for the onside kick with a little over 2 minutes remaining, and engagingly discussed his thoughts on what to do in that situation. You got the sense that Belichick was genuinely savoring clinching the AFC East, the first real fruits of his best and most challenging coaching job since the 2001 season. Better yet, you got the sense that Belichick really likes his team at the moment . . . and if he likes his team, maybe that whole four-in-six-years thing isn't as improbable as it might sometimes seem.

2. There were a lot of encouraging developments in Sunday's victory - the success of the ol' dink-and-dunk offense, the renewed discipline in terms of protecting the ball and limiting penalties - but nothing raised a Pats fan's optimism more than this: Rodney Harrison is back, baby, and an outstanding Patriots defense just got smarter, meaner, and whole lot more fun to watch. Damn, I sure missed him.

3. When Tom Brady returned to the game one play after Jaguars linebacker Clint Ingram attempted to give him the Mo Lewis treatment, you could pretty much hear an entire six-state region exhale at once. No offense to Matt Cassel, but there is not a more horrific sight for a Pats fan than watching him jog onto the field while No. 12 is writhing in pain on the turf, gripping his right arm. I'm pretty sure I saw the last six seasons flash before my eyes in the few horrifying moments that Brady was down.

4. I want to see more of Dave Thomas even when Benjamin Watson is healthy. The rookie third-rounder out of Texas was the most impressive pass-catcher on the field Sunday, and it's pretty clear that Brady has confidence in him that he doesn't yet have with players who have seen much more playing time. (See: Jackson, Chad).

5. I know his production has tailed off even when he hasn't been injured . . . but man, Laurence Maroney makes such a difference when there's a concerted effort to involve him in the offense. His game-breaking touchdown run was simply breathtaking, and I'm keeping the faith that Belichick and Josh McDaniels intend on unleashing him in the playoffs. I'm still pissed about the whole four-touches-in-second-half thing against Indy. Give him the ball 15 times in the final two quarters, and I bet the Patriots win that game.

6. Asante Samuel is having a Pro Bowl-caliber season, but if he wants to become a legitimate No. 1 cornerback, he needs to make better judgments about the when to go for the ball and when to play it safe. Of course, his reputation has been enhanced almost solely due to his eight interceptions this season, and for the free-agent-to-be, more picks probably equals more digits in the paycheck.

7. If you didn't see it, check out Mike Reiss has an insightful piece in Wednesday's Globe on the Patriots' philosophy regarding roster construction. Belichick is particularly candid, and it really puts into perspective how wise it is to prioritize depth over a roster top-heavy in high-priced talent but with several minimum-wage players filling out the bench. The most obvious example is in the defensive backfield, where the likes of Artrell Hawkins and Chad Scott have helped the Patriots survive and even thrive despite losing Eugene Wilson and Randall Gay for the season and Harrison for a prolonged stretch.

8. While it looks like the Pats are all but locked in to hosting Denver in the first round, I find myself holding out hope for another showdown with the Jets. Eric Mangini had two weeks to prepare for the Pats last time around, and given his intimate knowledge of the Patriot Way, he made the most of it. He won't be so fortunate again. In Round 3 of the renewed "border war," the Patriots will have the prep-time advantage - I can't imagine they're wasting much thought on the Titans this week - and you know the revenge factor will give Belichick additional motive.

9. I don't know a Pats fan that wasn't pulling for Romeo Crennel to succeed in Cleveland, given that his opportunity to be an NFL head coach was long overdue. But now that the Browns are beyond hopeless and his job is in serious jeopardy, I find myself hoping that he'll make his way back to Foxboro next season. By all accounts Dean Pees has done a heck of a job with New England's defense, but Crennel is as good as it gets. Bet Mangini would love to have him in New York, too.

10. As for today's Completely Random Football Card:


Jacksonville rookie flash Maurice Jones-Drew reminds me so much of Brooks, the former Chargers and Bengals dynamo, and if you don't remember him, trust me when I say that it's high praise. Brooks was the short, speedy type like Jones-Drew, and he had huge legs and packed the hardest per-pound wallop of any back of his time. Brooks is one of few backs to continue improving into their 30s. Not a bad back for Jones-Drew to emulate, all in all.

Afterthoughts

Remnants from Sunday night . . .


The Patriots can claim all they want that the Colts, with their strategy of perching head-cracking safety Bob Sanders near the line of scrimmage, were inviting them to pass. But there is simply no excuse for Laurence Maroney having just four second half carries, including but one (for 17 yards) in the fourth quarter. The Patriots ditched the obvious strategy of running the ball down the Colts throats much too soon, particularly considering Tom Brady obviously didn't have his best stuff. And I still don't understand why Josh McDaniels insisted on running those cutesy receiver screens when they played into the one strength of the Indy D: outside speed. Frankly, the play calling was often inexplicable. I never thought there'd come a day where the main culprits in a loss to the Colts would be the coaching staff and the quarterback, but fingers have to be pointed in their direction after this one.

I hate saying this for obvious reasons, but the thought's been rattling around in my head for a few Sundays now: Tedy Bruschi just does not look like his old self on the field. It's one thing to have trouble covering the Colts' plethora of quality receivers and tight ends, but it just seemed like he was a step behind on everything after the coin flip Sunday night. I hope I'm wrong about this, that someone who has been breaking down film of the last few games has spotted subtle contributions from No. 54 that have eluded me . . . but right now it sure looks to me like he's getting outplayed by Junior Seau, and you know those are words I never thought I'd write.

Though the Patriots have been their typically forthcoming selves about Rodney Harrison's injury and future playing status - Andrea "Scoop" Kremer is now reporting he's "kinda sore" and "might have an owie" - it sure sounds like he has a torn rotator cuff. While I guess that means he won't be pitching out of the Red Sox bullpen anytime soon, does it necessarily mean he'll be out of the Patriots' lineup for an extended period . . . or even at all? I suppose it would be pretty painful to tackle with a shoulder injury, but we all know about Harrison's ridiculously high pain threshold; this is the same guy who stayed in the game for a play after breaking his arm in Super Bowl XXXVIII. I guess what I'm saying is, please let this be something he can play with. The Patriots simply cannot afford to lose the brains and brawn of their defense for long.

Marvin Harrison's catch was one of the best I've ever seen, and I trust I don't need to describe it in detail for you to know exactly the one I'm talking about. It was right out of a Lynn Swann/J.J. Jefferson highlight reel. I must admit I tend to demean Harrison because of his reluctance to take a hit, but there's no denying he's had a hell of a career, one that someday will be celebrated in Canton; if he were completely insane, maybe then he'd get the some of the credit that too often goes to inferior contemporaries such as Terrell Owens and Chad Johnson. Hard to believe the Colts took him a handful of picks after the Patriots took Terry Glenn in the '96 draft - the whole She Era seems so long ago - but with that kind of staying power and productivity, maybe there's something to be said for running out of bounds.

Here's a scary thought: I think Peyton Manning is actually improving. His performance in shredding Denver's touted defense two weeks ago might have been the best pure passing display I've seen since that Isotoner guy was throwing lasers to Duper and Clayton. And while his numbers weren't quite as impressive last night, his performance was, particularly in terms of feeling the rush and making pinpoint downfield throws under heavy pressure. Maybe his old negative mannerisms will resurface should the Colts rumble with the Patriots again - man, I really missed seeing his patented yank-off-the-chinstrap-after-a-boneheaded-pick move last night - but for the moment Manning finally appears to have developed the poise to accompany his ability.


I don't doubt that Stephen Gostkowski has the leg to be a quality NFL kicker, but if he, A) doesn't start cranking out the touchbacks on his kickoffs again and, B) immediately stop pulling a Vanderjagt on every few midrange field goals, I have to wonder if Belichick will have open auditions for his job in the not-so-distant future. Then again, he made two and missed one Sunday night . . . one fewer miss than the future Hall of Famer he's trying to replace, so maybe we're overreacting. He's hardly in Missin' Sisson territory, but he needs to be better as the second half progresses. Would you trust him in the playoffs at this point?

TATB Live: Colts at Patriots

Yup, TATB is in the house, glued to the couch for the next four hours in the name of blogging duty, and let me tell you, I'm jacked and pumped like Pete Carroll at a Trojan pep rally. I haven't anticipated a regular season game like this since . . . well, since the Colts-Pats game last year. And I like their chances a whole lot better this time around against Peyton and the Ponies. Having Rodney Harrison and Richard Seymour in the lineup tends to swell your confidence.

So how's it gonna go? Let me put it this way - the '72 Dolphins will be popping some champagne corks around midnight tonight. I think the Patriots' obvious plan of attack will be the reality - they'll pound Laurence Maroney and Corey Dillon (both of whom basically enjoyed a bye week against Minnesota) 40-something times against the porous Indy run defense, which is allowing 5.4 yards per carry. I think Ben Watson will build on last week's breakout performance, and I think at least one Manning pass will find it's way into the hands of Asante Samuel (playing the Ty Law role), and I think Adam Vinatieri's return will be little more than a footnote. The pick: Patriots, 34-17.

Some quickie pregame notes/observations:

• NBC just showed Marvin Harrison running various patterns, including a couple of slants over the middle. It's worth noting that he does not practice turtleing like a frightened schoolgirl during warmups. It just comes naturally.

• On the ESPN pregame show, Jaws and The Players Hate Their Coach took the Colts, while Ditka, You're With Me Leather, and It Was My Buddy's Crackpipe, Officer took the Pats. All in all, I'd rather have Jaworski on our side. He's the best, and it makes me slightly nervous that he's not in the Pats' corner.

• Eugene Wilson, Stephen Neal, and Daniel Graham are among the Patriots' inactives, while safety Bob Sanders is apparently playing for the Colts. Not bad considering each team had 53 players listed as questionable midweek, but I really wish Graham was playing - he makes such a difference in the running game.

• Pink looks like she's auditioning for the Tim Curry role in "Rocky Horror Picture Show 2006." Let's play the game already . . .

FIRST QUARTER
Pats start with the ball . . . and it looks like they're planning on keeping it for a while. After Dillon was stopped for a two-yard loss on the first play from scrimmage, the Pats have methodically advanced to midfield, with three strong runs from Dillon and two from Maroney . . .

. . . and just as I write that last sentence, Brady throws an ill-advised pick on deep pass into the end zone, and the drive stalls. Crap, I should have known I'd jinx 'em. It really would have been nice to get some points on that first drive.

John Mellancamp is doing a very effective job of convincing me to never plant my ass in a Chevy ever again. Who knew Mr. Farm Aid was such a sellout? Looks like they've changed the visual from the unbelievably tasteless Hurricane Katrina/Vietnam footage to some shots of pickup trucks and wheat fields and other tame Midwestern Americana. Good call there. Whoever came up with that original commercial should have been reassigned to the mailroom.

The Colts come out in a no-huddle, and after Manning tosses a pair of incompletions, he makes perhaps the first improvised play of his career, rolling out to the left and, just as he's clobbered by Rosey Colvin, unleashing a 44-yard bomb down the middle to Harrison. Worse, Rodney Harrison stays on the ground when everyone else gets up. Looks like a shoulder injury. So much for overconfidence.

And after one more first down, Manning hits Harrison for an eight-yard TD on a slant pattern, and as Al Michaels puts it, "First blood drawn by the Colts." It's 7-0, Indy, and while my confidence remains intact, I wish Indy's had been taken down a few notches with a stalled first drive.

The bleepin' Mellancamp is airing during every commercial break - I think it's four and counting. I might end up buying a Ford truck out of spite before the first half is over.

Troy Brown catches a short pass inside the Patriots 40, flips the ball to the official . . . and is called for taunting, a 15-yard penalty. I can say with a great degree of confidence that in, what, the 14 years we've been watching Brown, we've never seen him taunt anyone. In a related note, the official looks suspiciously like Archie Manning.

Reche Caldwell with a drop on 2d and 8. He's also already got an offensive pass interference penalty tonight. Someone needs to tell him to get his damn skeeter eyeballs back into their sockets and relax.

On the positive side, it seems the Patriots will be able to move the ball at will. Maroney and Dillon have Wilfork-sized holes to run through and Doug Gabriel already has one nice catch and run, getting a first down on 3rd and 20. Even on 4th and 3 inside the Colts 20, the Pats have the confidence/wisdom to go for it and gain the first down on a Brady to Kevin Faulk pass. It's 1st and goal at the 5 as the first quarter passes in a blur.

SECOND QUARTER
Two Dillon carries and five yards later, and it's all tied at 7. It's worth noting that much of Dillon's yardage is coming over the right guard. I'm not sure who's filling in for Steve Neal (perhaps it's Billy Yates, previously known as the World's Highest-Paid Practice Squad Player) but he's kicking some Colt butt.

Uh-oh. Chad Scott has moved to safety, Ellis Hobbs is in at corner, and Rodney Harrison is in the locker room. Andrea Kremer tells us that Harrison has a right arm injury and that his return is probable. Could be worse, I suppose, but I'm pretty sure this secretive Patriots regime would tell us Hart Lee Dykes's return is probable at this point.

Manning is under siege and handling it with poise, throwing over the top of the rush to find Reggie Wayne for 16 yards and Dallas Clark down the middle for another decent gain . . . and then, under no rush, he rolls left and hits Wayne for 44 yards to the Patriots 1. Joseph Addai takes it into the end zone on the next play, and the Colts go up, 14-7. Can you say shootout?

Here's our second Manning commercial of the night - the one where he's disguised as Fred Smerlas and pimping cell phones. I'll admit that he's pretty good in most of his 18,839 commercials, particularly the MasterCard ones. I still think he looks like the spawn of Beavis and Butthead, though.

John Madden just compared Maroney to Clinton Portis. Pretty good company there, though I think Our Guy is a little bigger and runs a little tougher and is considerably less insane. I always tell people he reminds me of Fred Taylor back when he broke in with the Jaguars, you know, before he was so tragically stricken with leprosy. Just an ideal combination of speed and power. Maroney's had at least five carries in a row by the way, all for nice chunks of yardage, and the Pats are closing in on the Indy 20.


Third and 4, Brady hits Troy Brown on a quick out pattern for a first down, and I cannot think of a more appropriate way for him to become the all-time leading receiver in Patriots history, besting the great Stanley Morgan's record. Brown might be the greatest role player in the history of Boston sports, and I feel privilege to have watched him all these years.

Dillon, looking refreshed after his vacation in Minnesota last weekend, plows in from the 4, and we're tied again, 14-14. A three-and-out by Indy would be wonderful right about now . . .

. . . especially since Indy gets the ball at the Pats 40, thanks to a streak up the right sideline by Terrence Wilkins, who ran over Stephen Gostkowski (he ain't the tackler he predecessor was, apparently) and would have had a touchdown if not for the remarkable hustle of defensive tackle Mike Wright, who somehow gained ground on him and tripped him from behind.

Still no Rodney Harrison, and apparently Manning has noticed - on the first play after the kickoff, he launches a missile toward Marvin Harrison inside the Pats 10. Chad Scott, who is struggling at safety after playing so well at corner, obliges with a pass interference penalty, and Indy is on the verge again. Harrison must be having his arm amputated to keep him out of this game.

The Pats back Indy into a 3rd and 17 thanks to a sack by the rejuvenated Junior Seau, but Samuel is called for holding on a floater toward Harrison in the end zone, and the Colts get a second life as the 2 minute warning arrives. I'm feeling queasy . . .

. . . but somehow Indy is held to a Vinatieri field goal, and at this point a 17-14 deficit feels like a moral victory.

I'm thinking this might be the play that your buddies are rehashing at the office tomorrow: Fourth and 1 at midfield, 1:02 remaining, and the Patriots go for it . . . and on a quarterback sneak in which Brady appears to be stopped, one official comes charging in and immediately signals first down. Upon first glance, it appears to be a blantantly bad call, and because it's within 2 minutes, the booth reviews it. It might not be an exaggeration to suggest the game's outcome could hang in the balance of this review.

Whew. The play stands. Curiously, the official looks quite a bit like Jonathan Kraft. The Pats can't afford to waste this gift.

Brady threads a beauty through three defenders to Ben Watson at the 30. Unfortunately, he's borrowing Mark Blount's hands for the evening, and it drops harmlessly to the ground. Big Ben 2K6, still the enigma.

Third and 6 at the Indy 48, Dwight Freeney has Brady in his mitts, but apparently having to forgot how to sack a quarterback this season (he has 1/2 sack, and that is not a typo), he lets him slip away. Brady promptly hits Brown for the first down.

Consider that gift wasted. Brady goes deep to a triple-teamed and well-covered Watson, the oh-so-slightly overthrown pass deflects off his aluminum left hand, and Bob Sanders comes away with it at the 3. Looks like we'll be going into the break with a three-point deficit. Taking inventory: Thus far, their stud QB is outplaying our stud QB, Rodney Harrison is down to three limbs, and the Pats' hopes hinge on Belichick making his usual shrewd halftime adjustments. Yeah, I'd say it's living up to the hype so far.

(This is coming down to Vinatieri, isn't it? Damn, I'd hate for the jackals to be right.)

THIRD QUARTER
Andrea Kremer just reported that Tony Dungy said the Patriots know they need to score a lot and because of that, Tom Brady is pressing. I'd be pissed if it didn't look like he was correct.

Do the Colts even carry a punter? Is it still Rohn Stark? I thought we were about to find out, but after Ellis Hobbs makes a spectacular leap to bust up a deep pass in the end zone on 3rd and 8, Mike Vrabel is called for a phantom hands to the face call, and Indy gets five yards and a first down. I suppose it's not good form to bitch about the refs, but that was a bad call. Friggin' Indy pansy receivers.

The Pats somehow hold 'em again, and Vinatieri trots out to kick a 37-yarder. Automatic, right? Nope, wide right. Told ya the guy was nothing but a dome kicker. It goes without saying that the Pats need to take advantage of this.

And here we are, at another crossroads: On the first play, Dillon coughs up the ball as he hits the ground, Raheem Brock falls on it, Matt Light falls on him, and Brock gets up and runs the ball into the end zone anyway. Can you say replay? After a Patriots challenge and the official's extended stint under the replay hood, the call is fumble, Indy's ball at the Pats 31. The Patriots have turned the ball over three times to Indy's zero. They're not going to win if they don't improve the turnover margin soon.

Shockingly, Indy goes three and out. Hunter Smith is the name of the Colts punter, and it's a pretty good gig if you can get it.

Kremer just reported that Rodney Harrison still hasn't come out of the locker room, and yet the Patriots are still calling his return probable. I wouldn't be shocked if he'd had an autopsy by now.

Brady bounces a screen pass, and Madden says, "The Patriots don't need this. Just run Maroney, run Dillon, because they haven't been able to stop it. This is the one think the Colts can defend . . . I don't know why they think they need to trick this defense." It's a great point - they're getting way too cute. I have to say, Madden is on his game tonight. There must not be a terducken in the booth to distract him.

NBC just showed Manning playing football in the yard as an 11-year-old. He had a head like a cereal box even then. I'm guessing little Eli was inside playing with his Malibu Barbie when the footage was shot.

Dammit, I hate all of Manning's annoying histrionics on the line. Just run the damn play. And it's even worse on Madden '06 - turns out video game Peyton is as annoying as the real thing. Um, not that I still play Madden or anything. Have I mentioned I'll be 37 this month?

On 3d and 7 inside the 20, Harrison runs a fade, catches Manning's pass with his outside hand, drags both feet just before he falls out of bounds, and in an act entirely out of character, spikes the ball in Ellis Hobbs's face, drawing a 15-yard taunting penalty. Something tells me Hobbs, whose mouth has run a whole lot faster than his legs this season, has been jabbering smack all game. Either way, it's 24-14, Indy, and the Patriots offense needs to cut out the cutesy *$&# and get its act together, pronto.

After another good Maroney return and a first down on a pass interference call, Brady's suddenly looking scatterarmed, missing Gabriel open over the middle and Bledsoeing a 3rd-and-10 pass in the flat to Watson. I miss the Minnesota defense. Fortunately, Gostkowski drills a 49-yarder, and the Pats are back within a score . . .

. . . and here's the turnover we were pleading for. Wilkins, who apparently has found a soft spot along the ride side of the Pats' kick coverage, looks on the verge of breaking one when Artrell Hawkins arrives via the blind side, pokes the ball loose, and makes the recovery at the Indy 47. "This could be the play that turns things around for the Patriots," Madden says. Ya think?

Dillon plows for nine on the first play. The fumble has made him angry, and an angry Corey Dillon is an effective Corey Dillon. Knock off the dink-and-dunk stuff and give Dillon and Maroney the damn ball already . . .

. . . or I suppose Brady could underthrow a third-down pass to Dave Thomas, then watch as Gostkowski pulls a Vanderjagt on a 36-yarder. File under: Botched opportunity. The way they're playing, it's a wonder they're only down a touchdown.

FOURTH QUARTER
So it's gotten to the point here that ol' No. 80, the all-time leading receiver in Patriots' history, is on the field as an extra defensive back. Hmm, wonder if Manning will notice.

Brown gets called for hands to the face on an incomplete pass on 3rd and 7. Where's Hank Poteat when you need him?

. . . and here's the second turnover we were pleading for. Manning hits Chad Scott right between the 3 and 0 on his jersey, and Scott zig-zags to the Indy 45. Nice pick, nice return, right out of the Ty Law playbook.

A receiver screen. Brady gets creamed. Caldwell wisely covers the ball. CAN WE KNOCK OFF THIS CUTESY CRAP PLEASE, JOSH McDANIELS? Um . . . nope. Brady passes on the next down, Robert Mathis deflects it, and Indy intercepts. I feel like I'm watching Rex Grossman. That's three picks, seven penalties, and a missed field goal for the Pats tonight. They're playing like they got into Belichick's kid's stash at halftime.

A 3rd and 10 jump-pass from Manning to some tight end I've never heard of nets a first down, and on the next play, Rosey Colvin, auditioning to be the new Chris Slade, cheap-shots a Colt, giving Indy their fifth first down by way of a penalty. This is shameful.

Indy can't punch it in from the 12, thanks to Jarvis Green getting into Manning's mutated grill, but the Colts get a crucial 3 when Vinatieri slips a 31-yarder inside the right goal post, and it's 27-17, Indy. Not. Looking. Good.

Nine minutes left, down 10 points, and Madden is still pushing the Pats to run the ball. I'm not sure they have enough time, but as I type this, Maroney busts off a 17-yarder, and they're in Colts' territory again . . .

. . . and inside the 15 (Troy Brown catch) . . .

. . . and inside the 10 (pass interference against Watson) . . .

Words I've written 33,000 times: I do not trust Kevin Faulk to handle the ball in tight situations. Give it to Maroney. Give it Dillon. Give it to Vagas Friggin' Ferguson. But a draw play to shrimpy, fumble-prone Faulk? Not a good idea.

. . . and as if on cue, Faulk, drops a pass two yards from the goal line on 3rd and 7. (Somewhere, J.R. Redmond mutters to himself, "I'd have caught that.") At least it wasn't a fumble. Gostkowski drills the short 3, and the Pats are back within a touchdown, 27-20.


Indy starts at their own 39, 5:42 remaining. It's fair to say that this series is the ballgame.

Harrison catches a slant on 2d and 7, converting the first down before diving to the turf. He has 8 catches for 145 yards and 2 TDs tonight. Something tells me he'd be much warier (and less effective) had Rodney Harrison not gotten hurt. I do hear he's probable to return, though. Keep your fingers crossed.

Three minutes remaining, and another Indy first down. Belichick calls timeout with 2:37 left. The fat lady is warming up her voice. Whoops, my bad. That was Booger McFarland.

Third and 5, Indy runs a draw, and the Pats stuff it . . . and now Vinatieri gets a chance to stick a dagger in his former team, just as he did to so many other teams when he called Foxboro home. What drama. Here's the truly fascinating part - the kick is a 45-yarder, and it was pretty obvious in recent seasons that Belichick thought Vinatieri's range was declining. One of them is going to come out of this looking good, and one of them isn't.

And with chants of "Trait-or, trait-or" filling the air, Vinatieri misses wide right. Point, Belichick. Man, I remember when Vinatieri could make a 45-yarder in a blizzard. (Cue Streisand yowling "The Way We Were").


Well, so much for that comeback. After a long completion to Watson, a Brady pass clangs off Faulk's hands, Cato June catches the rebound, Manning ambles out to take a knee . . . and that's all, folks. Indianapolis 27, New England 20. As far as an immediate postmortem, well, what can you say? Manning thoroughly outplayed Brady, Harrison's absence was crushing, and the Pats played from behind all night and, perhaps relatedly, didn't commit to the run nearly as much as they should have. While it's a discouraging loss - it's always a shock when the Pats don't play well in the biggest games - I remain convinced that the Patriots will beat the Colts when it matters. Maybe that's blind faith - after all, Indy now has a 2-game winning streak in the rivalry - but it seems to me their poor play tonight was self-inflicted more than anything, they lost by only 7 despite a string of blunders, and you have to figure Brady is too proud to play this poorly should they meet again. In the meantime, here's hoping Bob Griese and friends didn't prematurely pop the corks. The unbeaten Indy machine rolls on.

Oh, an in case you were still wondering, Andrea Kremer is reporting that Rodney Harrison has an arm injury. His return tonight? Probable. Someone please tell her she can go home now.

TATB Live: Patriots at Vikings

Cue the over-the-top Brent Musburger intro:

You're looking live at TATB Headquarters, in the city of lights, Wells, Me., where within this pasty-white, sleep-deprived blogger beats the heart of a champion . . . !

Can you tell I spent the brunt of the afternoon watching '80s Celtics highlights on ESPN Classic? Anyway, I'm here, couch-bound and ready to roll. I'm stocked with Gritty's Halloween Ale and Triscuits, the infant and toddler beasts are snoozing, and I'm pretty sure my wife packed up the cats and left me an hour ago. Either that or she's in the kitchen making snacks.

Against all odds, we've even picked up on a few relevant tidbits during the pregame show:

• Brad Johnson has a higher winning percentage than Troy Aikman and Phil Simms, yet he's the oldest and lowest-paid starting quarterback in the league. In other words, he might be the best journeyman in recent league history.

• Glad to see Gerald McRaney of "Major Dad" fame is getting work again, even if it is under the pseudonym "Brad Childress."

• Michael Irvin wouldn't pick the Patriots to beat the Maine ThunderThighs of N.E. Women's Prison Football League. Tiki was right about him, but we already knew that, didn't we?

• Bill Belichick has cut off the sleeves on his hoodie tonight. He looks ridiculous, like a middle-aged woman heading off to Curves for her afternoon 1/2-mile walk on the treadmill.

• Tonight is the one-year anniversary of Tedy Bruschi's comeback from a stroke. To commemorate the moment, ESPN ran the heartwarming story of Bruschi's meeting with a young Patriots fan with heart problems. It's about the 54th time in the last six months they've shown this. Another 54 viewings or so and maybe then it won't put a lump in my throat.

You betcha I'm ready for some football, Paris! Let's go, you dirty . . .

FIRST QUARTER
Damn, it's loud in the Metrodome - reminds me of the Homer Hanky days during the Twins' '87 World Series run. Hey, is that Les Straker?

. . . well, it's not quite so loud now, is it? Brady goes 6 for 6, the key play being a 46-yard strike to the ever-improving Doug Gabriel on 3rd and 10 deep in Minnesota territory, and a nice grab by Reche Caldwell and his giant freakin' eyes gives the Pats a 7-0. Now that's how you shut 'em up.

Bethel Johnson returns the kickoff for the Vikings to the 31. What are the odds Ol' Million-Dollar Legs, Ten-Cent Head showed up at the Metrodome yesterday morning expecting to have a game?

East Boston's own Jermaine Wiggins with a plodding 10-yard reception on Johnson's first throw. I'm having Snow Bowl flashbacks. And I like it.

Minnesota advances to the Pats 40, where Junior Seau makes a big hit on 2d and 11, and Tully Banta-Cain thwarts the drive on 3rd and 11, forcing a punt. I'm enjoying the Seau rejuvenation (he's leading the team in tackles, if I'm not mistaken), but he does always let you know he made the tackle, doesn't he?

Third and 4 from the Minnesota 16, Brady rolls out under pressure and throws deep down the right sideline to Benjamin Watson, who loses a jump ball to the ageless Darren Sharper. I'd say it's inexcusable, particularly since Watson dropped a pass on previously play (is it too soon to call him "enigmatic Ben Watson" yet?), but Sharper has been making interceptions just like this one for a decade now. Just an excellent player, maybe even a Hall of Famer.

Johnson throws a deep helium balloon to Bethel, who runs the only play he knows: "Run, Bethel, Run!" Three Patriots are there to bust it up. Geez, it's not like they expected him to cut or anything.

Rosey Colvin clobbers Johnson on 3rd and 8, but he dumps the ball off to Tony Richardson (the longtime Chief dating back to the Ed Podolak era, I believe), and Richardson tiptoes his way to a first down at the New England 16. It's gettin' loud again.

Chester Taylor runs a lot tougher than you'd expect someone named Chester Taylor to run. First and goal, Vikings.

I forgot to check during the pregame - is Seymour out? Dammit, where's Mike Reiss when I need him. (Big Sey is dressed, but not starting, Joe Theismann dutifully informs me. Thanks, Joe. Hey, do you think his LT-altered leg aches on rainy days?)

Johnson throws an eephus pitch into Rodney Harrison's bread basket, and the Pats take over at the 2. The interception was so bad, Drew Bledsoe is sitting on his couch right now making fun of him.

SECOND QUARTER
Brady has all day to throw, and his accuracy is as sharp as it as been all season. He's already hit Gabriel four times, and he just connected with Watson on a 40-yarder down the right seam with a perfect throw.

Screen pass to Maroney, who does his Tazmanian Devil thing and gains another 15 yards. He might be my favorite Patriots rookie since Curtis Martin . . . and he might be better. Seriously.

The Patriots offense is just eviscerating the Vikings right now - this time it's Dillon banging his way up to the Minnesota 6. It's like Charlie Weis is calling the plays . . .

. . . and of course, being the jinx that I am, while I'm spell-checking "eviscerate," the drive stalls. Gostkowski delivers the 3, though, and it's 10-0, Pats.

How's this for a Man Law, Burt? Anyone who looks like he borrowed Kenny Rogers's face lift should not be setting policy for other dudes.

Well, it's starting to look like Belichick and defensive coordinator Dean Pees have Johnson solved - he just threw another terrible interception, this time to Chad Scott on a badly underthrown pass. I suspect they're going to force him to throw deep . . . and it sure looks like he can't, and probably couldn't when he was backing up Casey Weldon at Florida St. Pats take over at the Minnesota 40.

Dean Pees? Why, of course he does. (Sorry.)

Nothing doing on this Pats drive. Get Brady gone! He's killing them! Bring back Michael Bishop! Vikings take over at the Pats 20 after a punt, and the Vikings promptly go three and out. Are you on the edge of your seat?

Theismann: "I always thought Dan Marino was the master of sliding around in the pocket and avoiding pressure. Tom Brady does the same thing, and it is remarkable how he remains so composed under pressure." See, sometimes even a blind squirrel with a snapped tibia finds a nut.

Third down and 10 at the New England 23. Brady hits Reche Caldwell on the old receiver screen that Deion Branch ran so well. Matt Light absolutely blows up a Vikings linebacker, and Caldwell manages to keep his eyes in his sockets long enough to sprint all the way to the Vikings 40. Just a perfectly executed play. Are we sure Weis isn't in the house?

Finally, a Fred Smoot sighting. He's like Snoop Dogg multiplied by Captain Stubing.

During the pregame, ESPN showed some NFL Films footage of a miked-up Belichick. At one point, we hear him admonishing Watson to catch the ball with his hands, not his pads. Tonight, two passes have doinked off Big Ben's hands, including one just now at the Minnesota 10. Might be time to go back to trapping it against the body, big guy.

Brady has completed passes to eight different receivers tonight, and the much-maligned wideouts have a total of 148 yards with 2 minutes remaining in the half. I know I say this all the time, but I cannot wait to see how well this offense is clicking late in the season.

Brady, under pressure from both sides, throws a sinker to Watson, who catches it with his hands and rumbles into the end zone, capping an 11-play, 74-yard drive. It's 17-0, Pats, and the way this one is going, we can look forward to a fourth-quarter of forced banter between Theismann, Kornheiser, and Mike "Dorf on Sportscasting" Tirico. It's the price we pay for a Pats blowout, and I'll gladly take it.

Suzy Kolber just told us that Brady, "Is not as commercialized as some other quarterbacks." Meanwhile, Peyton Manning hurriedly issues a press release announcing he's now endorsing every cereal but Wheaties.

So far, the Vikings look like they still think they're playing for Mike Tice.

It's halftime, peeps, and if you think I'm watching Chris Berman's "Longest Three Minutes in Sports," you're sadly mistaken. Go have a Schlitz and a pierogie or something.

THIRD QUARTER
Okay, we're back . . . and so are the same old Vikings, who plod to midfield before again being forced to punt. (The Run, Bethel, Run! play is not working the way Major Dad Childress drew it up. Shocker.)

One thing I forgot to mention during the first half: When Rodney Harrison introduced the Patriots defense on the telecast, he didn't mention a single player by name. Funny thing is, he wasn't even here during the first Super Bowl, when the Pats made selflessness cool again.

Okay, so maybe this one's not over. Mewelde Moore takes a punt down the right sideline, dodging at least four would-be tacklers and making Josh Miller look like a dorky punter along the way, and suddenly it's 17-7, Patriots. If Brad Johnson had shown any sign of being able to solve the Patriots' defense, I might be mildly concerned . . .

. . . but I'm not, thanks to Maroney, who returns the Vikings kickoff all the way to the Minnesota 20. If Dave Thomas (the tight end, not the Wendy's founder) hadn't gotten in his way while trying to block the kicker, he'd have gone the distance. Have I mentioned that Maroney brings great joy into my life?

Brady. Troy Brown. Touchdown. That's how you answer, sports fans. Vintage - VINTAGE - Patriots football. It's 24-7, Pats, and it's so quiet in the Metrodome, you can hear Bryant McKinnie wheezing.

Brady is 20 of 30 for 278 yards, with 3 TDs and a pick, and let me say right now that the numbers don't do his performance justice. This is far and away as well as he has played this season (though he was pretty damn good last week, too), and I'm glad to report to the 'EEI mouthbreathers that his body language is also excellent.

The Vikings stall again, Johnson's pass being batted down on 4th and 3 at the New England 40. How soon before Matt Cassel is warming up in the bullpen?

Hey, just saw that Belichick's kid got busted for weed. Think when his father confronted him about it after picking him up at the police station, he replied, "It is what it is, dad"?

Have the Patriots run tonight? Seriously, I think I remember one Dillon carry, and that's it.

Caldwell catches a receiver screen at the Minnesota 10 and is promptly stripped by Smoot - terrifying words to countless women in the Minneapolis-St. Paul area.

Hey, a Chad Jackson sighting. Did you know he graduated from Hoover High in Alabama, the school featured on the MTV show "Two-A-Days"? I wonder if he had the same ridiculous-looking comb-down hairdo as the rest of those Hoover kids. (And as I'm writing this, Jackson becomes the fourth different Pats receiver to catch a TD tonight, catching a bullet at the Minnesota 5 and scrambling into the end zone. Nice play, rook. It's 31-7, Patriots, and I say bring on the Colts.)

FOURTH QUARTER
The first play of the quarter sums up Brad Johnson's night perfectly: He drops back to pass. He looks deep, only to realize Bethel Johnson is off chasing a tennis ball somewhere. He looks short. Everyone is blanketed. He looks up, just in time to dodge Colvin . . . but another Patriot buries him. In desperation, he throws a pass toward Taylor in the flat. It hits Mike Vrabel right between the 5 and the 0 on his jersey. Interception. Again. Maybe he should be the lowest-paid starter in the league after all.

Robert Kraft. Blue shirt. White collar. Sartorial splendor!

All right. here's the deal. When the Pats pull Brady, I'm pulling the plug on this baby. It's winnin' time for the Pats, and sleepin' time for me.

Twenty-four point lead, nine minutes left . . . and Brady's still in, and he's still throwing. Either Belichick wants the QB and his receivers to get in as much in-game work as possible, or he's trying to teach Childress a lesson for so obviously tweaking him by listing 20-something players on the injury report this week. I suspect the latter.

Heath Evans nearly breaks one . . . but Smoot comes in from behind and pokes out the ball. I'm not even going to attempt a joke here.

Fourth and 5. Brady drops back to pass, gets swarmed, and fumbles. It's unnecessary, and it's also a sign. Get him the hell out, before the catastrophic becomes reality.

And in an item completely unrelated to the last, the line has done a terrific job tonight against the Vikings' vaunted front seven, particularly considering Stephen Neal and Russ Hochstein didn't play. Belichick and Dante Scarnecchia really know the secret to piecing together a cohesive line.

Cassel's in . . . and I'm outta here, but not without a quick summary of the night: Brady (29 of 43, 372 yards, 4 TDs) played like the best QB in the NFL for the first time this season, and not coincidentally, he and his receivers were on the same wavelength all night. This offense could really be something if this rate of improvement continues. And the defense was stellar from the first snap forward - they knew what the Vikings were up to and made Brad Johnson look like Rob Johnson all night. Bottom line, this was an extremely encouraging victory, and one that reaffirms that this team is again a legitimate championship contender. Bring on the Colts, and thanks for reading this far. We'll do it again soon.