Beer and football V — playoffs, week two

The game: Ravens at Patriots
The beer: Slumbrew My Better Half Imperial Cream Ale
The result: Win, 35–31
The commentary: The divisional-round game was the first this season that I watched live all the way through. G. cooperated with some rare nap action and then mama was kind enough to give her dinner. We then promised to begin Tangled after the game. Bless them both for tolerating my paternal selfishness.

The cream ale, purchased in Salem (and producing the non-answer "I don't like cream ales" when I asked the clerk if he'd tried it), was unopened until the second half. As much as I needed that beer, that imperial beer, I just couldn't leave the living room—I feared my legs would give out. Having an actual halftime, due to said real-time viewing, allowed me to decompress after the Ravens took a two-touchdown lead, the Pats tied it and then an awful Brady interception led directly to an end-of-half shitstorm. As I've told myself so many times this season, these past several seasons, we were lucky to only be down by (x) and Brady could still win this. (But Christ, imagine if either of Amendola's or Edelman's fumbles hadn't been recovered? If neither had? No chance.)

The cream ale was smooth and didn't make me too swimmy—that dude should give it a chance because we're not talking about Genesee here—but did help take the edge off when the Pats were suddenly down by two touchdowns again. So much for the improved defense? And then beautiful things started happening: the multiple first-down conversions, the eligibility misdirections, Gronk, the double pass, McCourty's (unfulfilled) interception, the crowd. (Seriously, the crowd! It had to have been every single person who was there for AFC Championship against the Ravens three years ago because that's the last outstanding Gillette crowd I remember.) (Also, look at G. then! I was half drunk on Double Old Thumper and thought it would be a great idea to assemble her crib/toddler bed. Which is still standing, by the way.) (And what is it with Ravens players and coaches not understanding football?) Patrick Chung's sterling pass defense Owen Daniels's appalling drop in the end zone. Brandon LaFell's Randy Moss impression, clutching the ball at the last second. Duron Harmon's (!) near-game-ending interception.

Near-game-ending interception. I thought it was over… but look! NBC's poorly designed timeout indicator called bullshit on that. The imperial-ness prevented me from determining if a called timeout prevents the clock from expiring. Cursed math. Would time remain? Were the refs getting anxious about not calling pass interference all quarter? How long would G. be able to hold out? Pajamas were donned, teeth were brushed, mouth was thumbed (how we didn't get scolded by her dentist last week is beyond me). Rapunzel's hair was getting longer by the minute.

Opinions vary around here. Did Belichick mismanage the clock? Hard to say since I don't know what the alternative could have been. Should McDaniels have called actual running plays from their own twenty? Given the backs' lack of success that evening I'm not sure it would have eaten up much more time. (And as the PFW in Progress guys pointed out, they were ice cold and probably not reliable at that point.) Should Danny Aiken have snapped it through the end zone on fourth down for a safety? That crossed my mind but Torrey Smith, Joeflacco and Justin Tucker made me nervous. Everything turned out alright and the good guys won, but it does feel like the hail Mary scenario was somehow avoidable. (Andy Reid and Mike Smith are sitting in a bar somewhere still wondering why Belichick didn't call timeout himself.)

McCourty's volleyball spike (though Gronk was initially credited) sealed it. Fourth straight AFC Championship. Is this the year? I'm set to drink another bomber tomorrow and that's all I can ask. Were I to be so bold I'd say I know which six-pack to break up during the bye week because it's already in the fridge as part of some Christmas generosity (I tend to drink twelve-ouncers or pints as my "beer of the week" during a bye; even week ten's Samuel Smith (shudder) was "only" an imperial pint). And then there were one, an electric brew to which I will run for miles and seek sanctuary. Got that?

Grown-up puzzle anecdote: A. and I bought a cute thousand-piece puzzle with a festive theme for our guests to work on Christmas day. We got the idea when everyone kept gathering around one on Thanksgiving at the in-laws'. Turns out we didn't need a social crutch and forgot all about it. Drag. So New Year's Eve, the two of us sat down (at our new dining table) to start and complete the border. Well done! That's half the battle so let's keep this go– Babe? Where are you? Um. So… I've been the only one working on it ever since and I'm now fifty or so pieces from finishing. It's too bad I'm a team of one but I do find it soothing to focus on the task. It's easy to ignore all around you such as a dirty litter box or a seven-point halftime deficit. Hand me a glass of wine (or a cream ale, apparently) and I haven't a care in the world… unless Logan Ryan gets called for interference. Can't promise the holiday village square or the new table would have survived.

Adorable puzzle anecdote: The other night I was "helping" G. with a new fairy princess puzzle she got for Christmas. She worked her way down from the top (no edge- and corner-seeking for her) and as she was trying to cram one portion of a castle spire onto a cluster I thought to be totally unrelated I gave her a "Hmm, I'm not sure that goes there, hon." Ignoring me, she turned it ninety degrees and dropped it where it belonged. I was so happy and proud I exclaimed "Wow, you made it fit!" and she responded "That's because I'm magic!" followed, before I could say it myself, by "You're so cute!" She is just It.

Up next: LeGarrette Blount and Jonas Gray run all over Indy's defense. Coby Fleener and Dwayne Allen return the favor. Rob Gronkowski is the difference. Cheers!