I watched the game in detail. Examined every play (HD-DVR provided it). We matched the Steelers play-for-play. We hit them in face. We smashed them in the mouth. (Darnell Dockett is my hero.) We tipped passes, we stuffed runs, we sacked "Big Ben." We ran the ball (better than usual) we threw the ball (as usual). Fitz made the game winning play. We lost.
What happened?
My only answer: We met our match.
9-and-7 doesn't define us. The trips the the East coast were worthless, and useless. Painful, but worthless. Does the NFC suck? Hardly. We fought until half-time. A fluke play took us into half-time down 1o, but we had the lead with two and a half minutes left. Why? Because we come from a terrible division? No. Because we belong here. Because we have all the talent of New England with less than one tenth of the f***ing East-coast attitude. We just want to play "beat your face in" football. And I couldn't be happier about it.
How many counted us out? The worst team in the Playoffs? We're in the f***ing Super Bowl. Suck on it. And we made those 30 second commercials worth the millions you spent on them bankrupt America.
I guess the last the word is:
Dear People of the United State of America with High Definition Television: You're welcome. We made a game of that which you said was not to be. We took a would-be blowout and made it a nail-biter. We took a Steelers-Vikings snore-fest and made it the game of the century. You can give us the respect we deserve now. If you thought the Alzheimer's patient and the Z-Street Polk band at half time were was the highlight? You were wrong. We came to play. We came to WIN. And in the next five years, WE WILL.
I've never been a football fan. (My wife will attest to that fact. If it was Sunday afternoon, I was watching golf on CBS.) Two years ago, a good (nay, dear) friend took me to the Browns-Cardinals game. I learned to hate Browns fans (they are IDIOTS). He bought me a #7 jersey. (Who? Oh, him. Maybe someday he'll be worth the draft pick we spent/wasted on him.) Ultimately, I humbled my University of Arizona pride and traded it to my father for a Tillman jersey. Tillman embodies not only the legacy of a fallen warrior, but also the wounded pride of Arizona Cardinal Football. And I support it, with all my heart.
I was a skeptical football fan. I am now a painted-face, season- ticket-holding, tail-gateing football fan.
I. Am. Now. A. Cardinals. Fan. And forever will be.
Who wants a piece of me in Fantasy Football next year?
BRING IT.
(and, oh yeah, F U Vegas. They didn't cover the spread. If you bet the AZ CARDINALS, YOU WON.)
SUCK IT TRABECK.
1 comment:
Amen. Amen.
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