In the year Twenty-Ten, what the heck will happen then? Cowboys, and Packers, and Cards, oh my!!!
Coach Brad Childress has sent the players off for a week to frolic in Prague, or wherever else they may want to go. We may know now from our personal time travel that the Russian Commies are actually doomed, but what else does the future hold for us, specifically in terms of that as-yet-nameless opponent for high noon on January 17th?
The shock player vacation granted by Childress (of course) allows the coaching staff more time to study the Cowboys, the Cardinals, and the Packers, looking for the best ways to drive a stake in their evil hearts on that date when one lucky contender wins their trip to the Thunderdome. (Two teams enter; one team leaves.)
So, as long as Phat Pat and his friends have time to lick their wounds (or whatever else they choose to lick at this time), let's all do as Mamma Cass would have wanted and dream a little dream. We could while away the hours with our wives or girlfriends (or both, depending on personal preferences), but let's please not wait for Godot to lead us into temptation! Let us indulge in some fantasy football of a different color. Follow the yellow brick road of our own musings, and see if we somehow end up in Oz.
Sure, we'll annoy Sartre, who felt that the existentialist knows but does not hope, but quite bluntly, whom shall we hope wins in the NFC wildcard playoff round?
And my winners are:
Well, let's hope the Packers lose this week, just for spite. (I'm tired of beating them, anyway. How about you?) The Cardinals might get over-confident, having thusly avenged yesterday's results with the Pack, and then joyfully remember so sweetly how they once mugged us as well in their little desert nest. Life would be great for them, n'est pas? (Come here, my little pretties.)
Then, let's rip off those ill-fitting Cowboy jerseys. (Please feel free to think of Herschel Walker if that helps adjust your mood.) Let's be equal opportunity fair-weather fans and root for Philly to take a jazzy visit to the Big Easy. (I could have sent them to Utah, but don't get me started on that stadium kick and teams going where they don't belong.) Whom do you like in a foot race, Darren Sharper or DeSean Jackson? (Hint: Get that hyperbaric coffin cooking, Darren. You'll need all the oxygen you can get.)
And now, the audience participation portion of our novel begins. Use your psychic forces and determine destiny.
(Or just lay back, cheat, and watch the final answers on HDTV.)