Beer and football VII — week ten

The game: Seahawks at Patriots
The beer: Heavy Seas Greater Pumpkin Imperial Ale
The result: Loss, 31–24; Cardinals win, 23–20
The commentary: More pictures of my girl, please! I didn't go black last week because the Pats lost. They didn't even play. No, I mourned another loss or, more accurately, a non-win. Maybe the minority (har! har!) of voters didn't elect Trump because they are racists and/or sexists but rather because they have no problem with casual racism and/or sexism. There's a word for that. It's called the 1950s.

Enough. We're still alive! I speak of the knockout pool, obviously, for what else is there? The Cardinals made it interesting but a three-point win is as good as anything. In other positive news the fucking Dolphins took out the Chargers in San Diego by forcing four fourth-quarter interceptions. Maybe they're for real after all. Maybe that Sunday in the Stop & Shop parking lot was a mirage. (By god, it sure wasn't.) With Philip Rivers went two other competitors and, including me, we're down to six. Three still have the godforsaken, successful-through-week-eight "golden ticket" that allows them to buy back after a loss even though we're beyond the period when the rest of us can. Drag. It's a bullshit rule when you have thirty competitors and I will campaign my ass off against it next year—I didn't need that shit when I went undefeated two years ago. Regardless, I'm watching and (shudder) rooting for the Giants against the Bears as I write this. If the Bears win I'll be out and will have been knocked out by their victory for the third (1, 2) time in four tries. "Three out of four! Yes, it's a dynasty." What's the opposite of a dynasty? Wait one presidential term and see.

"Ohhhh, Sunday niiight. Ooohhhhhhhh Sunday niiiight!" Thanks Carrie, you hack. And you NBC producers. Zero percent of viewers watch Sunday Night Football for your nonsense. Objective fans would call this a great game and they'd be right. Me? I'd call it a great game aside from Julian Edelman's killer fumble—you are not Gronk and the extra foot or so you might pick up is not worth the risk—and Belichick's defense being fully exposed for what they are: a skillful menace who deserves a long-term extension and can single-handedly affect a game's outcome (Dont'a Hightower); a legitimate talent who is not as good as his hype suggests (Malcolm Butler); a bewilderingly expensive, middle-of-the-road safety in need of more instructional videos (Devin McCourty); a living example of Pro Football Focus's lack of relevance (Logan "Fucking" Ryan); a player whose pass-rush potential is inversely proportional to the effectiveness of Jabaal Sheard, Rob Ninkovich and a fourth-generation Multiplicity copy of Chris Long (Trey Flowers); and a bunch of dudes not named Jamie Collins. Maybe he wouldn't have made a difference in this one but I still wish he were on my team. We'll see how they respond in San Francisco following a week of media scrutiny. (I've been critical for years but Patriots VP of Media Relations Stacey James has blocked the Biff! Bang! and Pow!—in all its Roman numerally busted-link glory—at Gillette. Greater good and all.)

Bears making it too goddamn interesting with two minutes remaining. I know nothing about football.

Up next: I wonder if any visiting Patriots went to Alcatraz twice in one day like I did. Happy Thanksgiving!