Beer and football II — week fourteen

The game: Patriots at Redskins
The beer: Berkshire Steel Rail Extra Pale Ale
The result: Win, 34–27
The commentary: I got some great pictures of G. leading up to the game but the smiley ones never come out. You can't see it here because of my stupid square-cropping syndrome but her feet were going a mile a minute in this one and they're a (stylish) green and orange blur. I love that she can maintain such a nonchalant expression while her legs are getting it done. By the way, please don't call child services on A. and me because of that gash next to her left eye. She did that herself—it is nigh on impossible to effectively trim her fingernails.

A friend and I used to drink the Steel Rail while playing pool at the Brass Cat in Easthampton when I lived out there years ago. What a great spot that was—the beers were cheap, you could always get a table and the jukebox was a killer. I never worried for a second that the bomber's color scheme exactly matched the uniforms worn by the most offensively named team in all of sports, who kept things much too close all game long. It was a refreshing ale but not as tasty as I remember. I also didn't remember that it is super-duper light in color, though an attractive blond rather than Bud or Miller's ill, pale yellow. It served its early-afternoon purpose well enough, especially considering I hadn't showered yet.

To state the obvious, if Mark Sanchez and Brian Schottenheimer were screaming at each other and had to be separated during a game then all of New England, fans and media folks alike, would rejoice in the "trainwreck" that is the New York Jets. Instead, everyone from Mike Reiss (of whom I am an enormous fan) on down uses it as an example of what a competitor Brady is. I actually do believe that but I don't think it's necessarily something to spin into a positive. Nor is it a sign that the Pats won't win another game the rest of the year. Regardless, Bill O'Brien should remember that he's Bill O'Brien and maybe keep out of his elite quarterback's face next time. Of course with those idiots running the Dolphins it's a good bet either he or Schottenheimer will be coaching that team next year.

Anyway, say what you will about Tebow but he's winning games. People seem to fall into one of two camps: his heart is large enough to overcome accuracy problems or he has no business playing the quarterback position; he is a man of strong moral and spiritual convictions or he is a self-promoting fraud; he is revolutionizing what it means to be a professional athlete or he is setting the game of football back several decades. (The Overrated Brian Urlacher even decided to chip in and called him "a real good running back," adding to his pile of head-scratching post-defeat statements that includes last year's "the Patriots are the best team in the AFC.") I'll surely have some of my own expert analysis next week but, in the meantime, it's pretty exiting to be a Broncos fan right now.

Up next: Our lowly hometown heathens travel to Denver to take on God and His armies of righteousness. We are in deep shit. Cheers!

Beer and football II — week thirteen

The game: Colts at Patriots
The beer: Just Beer Moby D American Ale
The result: Win, 31–24
The commentary: Like the Pittsburgh game, only the exact opposite, this one was nowhere near as close as the final score indicated. Brady, Welker and Gronkowski were doing every single thing against the Colts that they wanted to do.

I'm sort of glad all the "Lo, a defense e'er soaring!" talk around here can be put to rest. This is the same secondary that has sucked lemons all season long: they are not communicating better, they are not imposing their will upon horrible opposing quarterbacks, they are not talented. They are not improving. The three unanswered Colt touchdowns in the fourth quarter were killers once you consider an onside kick was a real possibility, and the one time Belichick decided against keeping his foot on the gas (disputing the "Anything can happen in this league, would you rather we kicked field goals?" speech he gives every time he's accused of running up the score) nearly came back to bite him. Sorry Hoyer, but you might not play another snap this season.

In an effort to save a little money—babies are expensive!—last week we downgraded our Fios cable television package to a lower tier. In the process we lost some channels we don't care about (couldn't tell you what they are), some that I really liked but, in retrospect, didn't watch too often (Palladia, HDNet) and some that really, really hurt (The NFL Network and Cloo). Sigh. I guess I'll survive because the only show I really watched on NFL was Sound FX and those clips are always made available on NFL.com, which isn't yet blocked at work, and that's good because (of course) Brady and Belichick were featured this week. I just watched the clip while eating my overpriced (overpriced… gak!… so long, Taylor Price, you were absolutely wasted here) sandwich and it's wonderful to see how competitive Brady is at all times, even during a bloodbath. "That's three fourth-quarter touchdowns." This wasn't a slam on his offense not keeping up—it's a sign that he might just murder McCourty and friends by the time the playoffs roll around.

G., as you can see, wasn't too good in keeping me company during the game. She asked me to put her down at halftime so she could nap during the rest of "this laugher" (her words) and that way I didn't have to awkwardly hold her and a giant beer mug at the same time. I cracked open the ale as the fourth quarter was starting (1:00 games almost feel strange now) and thought it was pretty good. I picked it up the previous weekend on the way to my uncle's. Just Beer also had a "'Not Pumpkin' Ale," an admittedly failed attempt at a pumpkin ale that turned out to be more of a pale ale. I'll remember it for next year because I'm officially stocked for the last four games of the regular season… and not beyond this time!

In 2010 I was late with a Christmas mini-playlist so I'll throw one up now with plenty of time for readers (!) to get sick of Christmas music. This is in honor of my company's holiday party at the InterContinental Hotel next week. It's right next door, and walking to work yesterday I noticed the logo resembles a giant vagina. Tell me I'm wrong.

(In other questionable signage news, the Subway restaurant attached to the convenience store a few blocks from my house has apparently gone rogue and changed its name to "Sub Day." It's a plain white and red sign that must have cost $5. Hilarious.)

1. Perry Como – CHRISTMAS
I played my family's Perry Como Sings Merry Christmas Music record to death every December during my childhood. I still love it, right down to subconsciously layering the old skips and pops onto my soulless Perry Como MP3s. I mean the MP3 format has no soul, not Perry Como. Well maybe both.

2. The Treacherous Three – Xmas Rap
"That ain't a GI Joe, that's a GI Jerk with a kung-fu grip that don't even work. So all I did was just put him away cuz my GI Joe looked GI Gay."

3. Rotary Connection – Silent Night (Chant)
Reissued Peace from 1968. The "Chant" qualification must only be there to distinguish from the "regular" and the "instrumental" versions of "Silent Night" on the album. As if there aren't enough Christmas songs to cover.

4. Beatles – Pantomime (Everywhere It's Christmas)
"No need to worry, Jasper. [Turns page.]" I thought they'd run out of paper? From their 1966 fan-club Christmas record. This and the following year's "Christmas Time (Is Here Again)" are my favorites—both are nicely produced collages that stand out against the charming novelty of the first three records and the withdrawn, sour last two. Incidentally, I always thought that was George Harrison doing a Tiny Tim impression on the '68 record but Wikipedia and other sources tell me it's really Tiny Tim. I remain unconvinced.

5. Victoria Spivey – Christmas Morning Blues
One of many highlights from the essential Blues, Blues Christmas. This compilation is repetitive and probably too long but so are the holidays, right?

Up next: The Pats travel to our nation's capital to visit museums for free and see if there's any truth to the rumor that Mike Shanahan is an overrated football coach. (He is.) Cheers!

Beer and football II — weeks eight, nine, ten, eleven and twelve

Week eight
The game: Patriots at Steelers
The beer: Cambridge Great Pumpkin Ale
The result: Loss, 25–17
The commentary: My favorite pumpkin beer, marred by repeated long completions down the middle of the field to a wide-open tight end. Hey, that's what the Pats are supposed to do! I would love another shot at these clowns in the playoffs.

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Week nine
The game: Giants at Patriots
The beer: Blue Hills Imperial Red India Pale Ale
The result: Loss, 24–20
The commentary: Hopefully the season's nadir. I always thought that word was pronounced "nade-EER" but apparently it's like Ralph Nader? That's why I don't use twenty-five-cent words when I speak. I don't remember much about this game (perhaps due to the IPA's nine percent alcohol) other than being generally uncomfortable throughout, and in retrospect it's hard to believe they lost by only four points. The following day on the train I overheard a guy say to his buddy "I hope we don't have another Donovan McNabb on our hands." I hate Patriots fans.

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Week ten
The game: Patriots at Jets
The beer: Haverhill GestAlt German-Style Brown Ale
The result: Win, 37–16
The commentary: Now we're talking. I accidentally bought two GestAlts, picking it up for the second time after thinking I'd passed on it earlier. I'll admit to being afraid when I opened the bomber and it foamed all over the kitchen counter. The eighteen ounces I was able to retain tasted pretty damn good and didn't in any way jinx the outcome of the game, so I was glad to have a backup. I attributed the first-half shutout of the Giants the week before to poor execution on the Giants' part instead of stellar defensive play by the Pats. This time I think they played pretty alright. I like how, in the week leading up to this one, everyone said the release of Haynesworth meant Belichick should be tarred and feathered. I've got problems with some (most) of his recent drafting decisions but why not give Haynesworth a shot in a short offseason? Belichick's free-agent adventures haven't worked out too well lately either but, the last time I checked, "low risk/high return" doesn't equate to "inexpensive/can't fail." One hundred thirty-one players were chosen before the first pick of the fifth round this year so who gives a shit. Belichick would have traded it for two sevens anyway.

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Week eleven
The game: Chiefs at Patriots
The beer: Stone Smoked Porter
The result: Win, 34–3
The commentary: Defense plays well again but it's the Chiefs. A few weeks ago A. and G. were to pick me up in Salem and they ran late, so I dropped in to the Green Land Café for a quick pint. Boy, was I pleased to discover they had the Smoked Porter on tap. I grabbed the one free seat at the bar, which was on the corner—to my left were a couple visiting from Florida to attend a Boston College football game for some reason, and to my right were an older couple I took to be local. They were speaking kitty-corner across me (I didn't mind) about local beer and Mr. Florida was drinking something he apparently enjoyed so much that he was on his iPad the whole time trying to figure out how far south it was distributed. I never learned what was giving him such a hard-on but it was pretty light-colored, and I can't think of any light-ish beer I'd get so worked up over. "This… how you say… Hi-nah-kin… is marvelous! Is it available in the American northeast?"

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Week twelve
The game: Patriots at Eagles
The beer: Ipswich Oatmeal Stout
The result: Win, 38–20
The commentary: I didn't get any good pictures of G. during the game because she's three months old now and no longer content to sit still. Blurry, blurry, blurry! The Android Gingerbread update seems to have slowed down my phone's shutter a bit, in addition to causing a host of other problems that I've just barely resolved. (Aye, the drawbacks of openness and fragmentation. I'm starting to understand the enthusiasm for rooting.) So it's Chloe's time to shine this week! That's my leg she's sleeping on up there. Precious.

OK, I actually remember this game because it was only three days ago. We watched the first half (along with the second half of the brutal Bills–Jets game—yes, I want the Jets to miss the playoffs because I'm not sure it's possible for one team to defeat another three times in one season—at my uncle's house while we introduced G. to my mother's extended family. I recorded the game and watched the second half at home in the evening, mostly ignoring the fast-forward button because I haven't watched many "live" games this season and I wanted to soak it in. It was rewarding to witness Andy Reid at last—at last!—get openly criticized. Poor game-planning, poor adjustments, poor discipline, poor time management: I salute you, The Andy Reid Era.

Again, our defense was passable. Again, they looked lost in giving up way too many long passes. Again, Sergio Brown celebrated a "pass breakup" he had nothing to do with aside from never once turning around to look for the ball and possibly interfering with a receiver who still could have made the catch. But again, Tom Brady was unstoppable. Again, having two productive veterans like Welker and Branch at wideout, the best tight end in the league in Gronkowski, another top-ten tight end in Hernandez and a crew of running backs who can produce most of the time was a wonderful bunch of answers to a questionable defense. Again, it's awesome to be a Patriots fan, just like it has been for ten years.

I loved this tongue-in-cheek headline from Boston Sports Media Watch on Monday morning: "Porous Patriots Defense Allows 400 Yards to Vince Young, Still Manages Undeserved Blowout Win With Roster Full of Belichick Draft Busts." Nothing could sum up the past month any better. Unfortunately, staring blankly into the camera, I realize satire is rooted in truth: if Belichick doesn't trade his two 2012 first-round picks to move into the top ten and snag a defensive player opposing offenses need to account for—again—then I will surely die.

Elsewhere in football, I can't believe Stevie Johnson is being slain for mocking someone who once put on a pair of sweatpants, stuffed a gun into the waistband, went to a nightclub, shot his own leg, was arrested for and convicted of this crime and spent two years in prison for it. Plaxico mocks himself every day just by having survived that wound. I like James Walker's AFC East blog for ESPN but give me a break: "[Johnson's touchdown celebration] wasn't in great taste, considering Burress spent years in prison for the incident." It's not in great taste to pretend to rape someone in order to mock a person imprisoned for rape. The only victim here is Plax, Plax's leg, Plax's sweatpants and maybe the nightclub's floor. So let's relax, America. Or, if you insist on chiding Johnson, at least remind people that Plax is a moron who did something really, really stupid and is really, really lucky it wasn't worse.

Speaking of relaxing, or rather doing the opposite of relaxing and, instead, evolving into an even more smug and uptight asshole, Bob Costas needs to put on some sweatpants and go clubbing. His anti-celebration rant on Sunday Night Football was as blatant an audition tape to take over for Andy Rooney as anyone wearing a turtleneck and blazer could produce, right down to lauding old-timey white players. "All this… and an overexposed, sanctimonious prick who single-handedly tries to ruin the Olympics every two years… next on 60 Minutes." I loved it almost as much as the stout.

Up next: It's Pats–Colts in Foxborough, minus the beloved Brady-versus-Manning drama. If Peyton doesn't play this week then just put him on injured reserve already. And if the Colts somehow win then the misery of every single Patriots fan will be an early Christmas present for Michael Felger. Cheers!

Hit me!

The Patriots are my non-daughter-based obsession lately, and although they're only really relevant for three hours a week there are so many blogs to read and so much media to listen to and watch that it's almost a full-time job. Add in how long it takes to drink a giant beer and write another "our defense sucks" post each week and I won't find the inspiration to write about much non-football related stuff until I dig the Beefheart book out of my nightstand. So I'll manufacture some.

A. and I bought a new car in June, the first for either of us. Exciting! With it came a free three-month subscription to Sirius. It didn't seem like a big deal—we figured we'd listen now and then and not fret once it expired, instead relying on our iPods when FM radio couldn't cut it. Annoyed grunt! Classic Vinyl? Backspin? The Boneyard? These stations are essential. Two weeks ago we re-upped.

The one that sold us, I think, is Soul Town, featuring Detroit, Memphis and other classics from the fifties, sixties and early seventies. It's generally family-friendly (I remember "motherfucker" slipping through on Curtis Mayfield's "Do Do Wap Is Strong in Here" one time) and G. seems to enjoy it the way A. and I enjoyed oldies radio when we were kids (we project a lot). They do a good job mixing familiar (ranging from "I love this song!" to "I remember this song!") and obscure stuff, and though they (and other Sirius stations) tend to repeat themselves a little too much—we've heard Freda Payne's "Band of Gold" about twenty times in the past week and a half—it's all pretty excellent.

In honor of Soul Town (or "Sooouuul Town," as I call it) I thought I'd throw up my own little hour-ish revue for a crisp Friday evening. I purchased these in the past few days: some are big hits I'd already… acquired… in the last ten or twelve years. Some are digging a little deeper into familiar artists' catalogs. Some are in Soul Town's regular rotation and I just can't get them out of my head. I don't feel like sequencing it so I'll lean on my old friend Alphabetical Order. It actually works pretty well.

1. The Beginning of the End – Funky Nassau (Part 1)
See what I'm talking about? Alphabetical Order knows what she's doing. (Alphabetical Order is a woman because she's always bossing you around.)

2. Sam Cooke – Bring It on Home to Me
My father got me into the Animals at a young age and I am forever grateful. But their version of "Bring It on Home to Me" is an attempted carbon copy of Cooke's original and, though I still like it, it doesn't come close.

3. Crystals – He Hit Me (and It Felt Like a Kiss)
Wikipedia tells me this song was a bit controversial because it seemed to endorse spousal abuse. See the trouble you get into when you pay attention to lyrics?

4. Dells – I Can Sing a Rainbow/Love Is Blue
Edan's "I See Colours" (from the award-winning Beauty and the Beat) samples this nicely. And Jeff Beck did a fine job with "Love Is Blue" in 1968. But I can't tell you a damn thing about the Dells.

5. Four Tops – Bernadette
Once a year I think someone should write a song where it pretends to fade out and then the singer shouts "Bernadette!" You would have my annual 99¢, hypothetical future bands.

6. Marvin Gaye – I Heard It Through the Grapevine
My recent exploration of "Louie, Louie" had its roots in "Grapevine" when, years ago, I tracked down as many versions as I could find. Creedence just kills it but this is still the one.

7. Isaac Hayes – Breakthrough
I don't know how this song was used in Truck Turner but if my revue were a soundtrack then "Breakthrough" would play during the montage sequence where I'm strutting up and down the block, pushing drugs, copping feels, looking good. Right before the shit hits the fan.

8. Ike & Tina Turner – It's Gonna Work Out Fine
I'm a sucker for call-and-response duets (Inez & Charlie Foxx's "Mockingbird" was under consideration here). Anyone else think Ike & Tina should have covered that Crystals song?

9. Impressions – Check Out Your Mind
"Check Out Your Mind" is a Soul Town favorite. What do you call it when a band interrupts the time signature like the Impressions do here before each chorus? I love that.

10. Marvelettes – Beechwood 4-5789
A. bought this last week. I had to buy it again because she innocently got the most-popular version on iTunes, which is one of those crazy sixties super-stereo mixes. With older songs (particularly Motown) that appear on a thousand different compilations you have to listen to every sample on headphones before committing. Mine is a superior mono from The Complete Motown Singles, Vol. 2.

11. Wilson Pickett – Don't Knock My Love (Part 1)
The A-side-single half of the title track from Pickett's 1971 album, the cover of which features Pickett and his swollen genitals leaning against a Rolls Royce. Unfortunately, as with "Funky Nassau," you can't download parts one and two together as a single track.

12. Otis Redding – A Change Is Gonna Come
I think Otis is a little overrated but this is the sort of thing I like from him. You can tell that sometimes (usually when covering popular hits like "A Hard Day's Night) he's mailing it in with extra postage. The MG's wisely stay out of his way here and he really gets into it.

13. Sam & Dave – May I Baby
Hey, I have a baby! I don't need to walk her home though. She can't even walk yet! Available with "Soul Man" as a stolen-idea digital 45.

14. Nina Simone – Plain Gold Ring
Probably closer to blues than to soul. It doesn't matter, Sirius categorizes Soul Town as "Hip-Hop/R&B" anyway so I'll be equally lazy and lump all black music together too. Regardless, Nina Simone is the real deal and tells a much richer story than Freda Payne goes on about every day.

15. Six Finger Satellite – Deep Freeze
How'd this get in here?

16. Supremes – You Keep Me Hangin' On
Why was Diana Ross the feature member of this group? She comes off like a real asshole who couldn't really sing too well. All the magic of this song is in Florence Ballard and Mary Wilson's backing vocals, the Funk Brothers' stone groove and the slick production. Though I do like how a double-tracked Ross keeps pronouncing "free" as "fuh-ree."

17. Temptations – (I Know) I'm Losing You
Wonderful Funk Brothers block. I prefer the Temptations' "psychedelic" Dennis Edwards era but this David Ruffin effort from 1966 is tighter than Wilson Pickett's trousers. Probably my favorite pre-Cloud Nine song.

18. The Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band – Till You Get Enough
This is a great song but I have no idea how it was a hit single in 1968. I guess a boring cover of "Light My Fire" on the B-side probably helped. If it weren't for that harlot Alphabetical Order I'd have closed with this.

19. Bill Withers – You
This would have been perfect for my next overlong annual playlist but it's too good to sit on until May. "Use Me" is a Soul Town favorite but I already have that.

20. Stevie Wonder – Nothing's Too Good for My Baby
Damn right I've got a pearl of a girl! Classic pre-synthesizer Stevie. Stacks of amazing singles from the mid to late sixties more than make up for seventies nonsense like "You Are the Sunshine of My Life" and "Boogie on Reggae Woman."

Alright, I can feel the Patriots' defense studying their playbooks tonight, holding them upside down and wondering why there aren't more pictures—that's the only explanation. In the meantime, I should finish The Exorcist tomorrow (really, really good and intense) and then maybe I'll start Dracula because I'm a Halloween dork. But after that I think it'll finally be 33⅓: Trout Mask Replica. I teased my Nico piss-taker for almost a year and I'm pretty happy with the way that post turned out. Hopefully this will be even more epic. Almost as epic as Mike Wallace's undressing of Devin McCourty on Sunday. (Pats still win big.)

Beer and football II — weeks six and seven

Week six
The game: Cowboys at Patriots
The beer: Berkshire Oktoberfest Lager
The result: Win, 20–16
The commentary: I think it's going to be a Berkshire-heavy season—six weeks in and I'm already onto a second offering. My team's won five of six games, though, and even if I'm not superstitious (very much) I'm not going to buck that. I've got a third in the fridge that's ready to go in an emergency anyway. In fact, the only way I would lay off additional Berkshires is if I've accumulated so many bombers over the past couple of months that I might already be able to finish out the regular season. And if you think I'm shopping ahead for an anticipated playoff run after what happened last year with the (gulp) Shabadoo then you know nothing about football either.

The Oktoberfest was nice. I'm pretty sure it was included in that beer dinner I attended a couple of months ago and, if so, none of the three of us was overly impressed for some reason. Possibly it only works its magic in October or something, I don't know. How would a pumpkin ale taste in March? Apparently like death. Anyway, here's what I remember about the Cowboys game:

The Pats had no chance of losing, even when they were on their own twenty yard line and down three points with two-and-a-half minutes remaining. The only way Brady doesn't march up the field against a suddenly scaredy-cat defense was if he'd been shot by the same sniper who earlier took down Gary Guyton during an attempt to tackle Dez Bryant.

Our defense performed "admirably" for the second week in a row because the idiot opposing head coaches decided not to target the horrible secondary with long passes. I can't understand it, but I'll take it.

Tony Romo is really, really awful. I enjoy the NFL Network's Sound FX (formerly Mic'd Up), which recaps three games a week from players' and/or coaches' perspectives, and in teasing Patriots–Cowboys before going to commercial the narrator asked "Would Tony Romo be a superhero against the Patriots? Or would Tom Brady prove he's the Man of Steel?" My infant daughter just rolled her eyes.

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Week seven (bye)
The beer: Samuel Adams Boston Lager
The commentary: Stupid Jets. That's two games they were let off the hook, the first being against (shocker!) pop group Tony & the Boys. I will not count out the Jets until they're playing golf in January. People keep saying how much Sanchez sucks but I just don't see it. He's no Brady, Brees or Peyton-Corpse but he's also no Romo, McNabb or Tebow. He's won some big games and even looked good carrying the team on his back when clowns like Tomlinson suddenly take ill (loved the classic sideline shots of him feeling sorry for himself; if you aren't motivated to shine against the team that gave up on you then maybe you should sulk away from the football field for the rest of your life). Maybe he's expected to win games more easily with outstanding players like Keller and Holmes to target but he's gone to two consecutive AFC title games. That's not all on Sanchez but clearly he's doing something right.

Speaking of quarterbacks, the thing I'm hearing from no one about the Colts is that Manning didn't play defense. He did his best to keep them off the field and maybe that covered up the fact that they were never any good. But giving up fifty-five offensive points? Even the 2009 Pats weren't as terrible against the Saints and the Saints went on to win the Super Bowl that year.

Before the Colts won in 2006/2007 I always questioned why they used top draft picks on offensive skill positions instead of on defense. Defense (and maybe a consistent running attack) was the reason they kept losing to the Pats and I just didn't get it. Then it hit me: why not give your most outstanding player the tools to succeed? Manning doesn't succeed with tough, versatile linebackers and safeties. Blue-chip receivers, uncoverable tight ends… that's how you do it. Score! Score! Give up thirty points and still win. Score! Throw the ball, Peyton! Touchdown, Colts! Score! Turns out I was right. Not only did they not draft well on defense (very few exceptions) or use low-round picks to develop above-average backup quarterbacks but there is not one Peyton-is-down-what-do-we-do piece in place, coaching staff included.

I finally came to respect Peyton after he finally won a Super Bowl. He was the guy who got all the stats and made all the commercials and didn't do shit in the playoffs. But the Super Bowl gave him credibility and turned Brady vs. Manning debates into balanced conversations, more Bird vs. Magic than Russell vs. Chamberlain. But the Colts team? I never respected the Colts team.

Crazed fans and media saying they should lie down the rest of the season, draft Andrew Luck (about whom I know nothing because I don't watch college ball) and trade Peyton did the same thing in 2008 with "Trade Brady!" when he went down and Matt Cassel was playing pretty well. These are the same idiots who scream "Why do we always play the Colts in Indianapolis?!" (Patriot fans) or "Why do we always play the Patriots in Foxborough?!" (Colts fans) year after year. If the Colts follow through on this insanity, trading away or letting walk a once-in-a-lifetime quarterback and the few remaining stars (Mathis, Freeney, Wayne) while continuing to not sign impact free agents then they're admitting to ten years of organizational failure.

On the opposite end of the success spectrum, most varieties of Sam Adams can stand up with any of the greats. The flagship lager is often the best beer available in a lot of the cookie-cutter Budweiser/Coors bars and restaurants in Massachusetts and for that reason it's terribly underrated and under-appreciated. It is delicious. When I saw the large bottle of Boston Lager (perhaps very slightly smaller than twenty-two ounces) it was an opportunity to highlight my reliable old friend on a blog no one reads.

Sooner or later (probably next season) I'm going to have to loosen up and not restrict my football beers to bomber-size because I'll have to start repeating selections or going whole-hog with particular brewers (hello Berkshire!). There just aren't enough for less than $7 a bottle, particularly since I generally don't like to represent someone more than once in a season (hello? Berkshire?) and I'd like to feature more non-regional ones. I was glad, then, to see Sam Adams cooperating last week—unless you want one of their double bocks or something, which are pretty expensive and harsh, they don't seem to embrace the large format. Maybe it was my imagination but it even seemed to taste as good as it does out of a tap; anything might have, though, after bye-week chores like mowing the lawn and scrubbing the bathtub. I still trust it was genuinely good. Regardless, once I break down and start incorporating six-packs into my Sundays (maybe not entire six-packs) then I will leave the door open for good ole Sammy A-Damn (not an actual nickname) and welcome him, warmly, into my home.

Up next: The Pats travel to Heinz Field for one of my favorite games of the year, Let's Watch Tom Brady Toy with the Steelers Bowl VII. In Pittsburgh they refer to it as Your Quarterback Is a Homo and Ours Is Not, as Demonstrated by a Pattern of Sexual Assaults Against Women Bowl III. Cheers!

Beer and football II — week five

The game: Jets at Patriots
The beer: Pretty Things Hedgerow Bitter
The result: Win, 30–21
The commentary: My little girl knows what's up. She doesn't get all bothered the way her dad does over how poor a defense a 4–1 team might have. Here she is, really taking the time to weigh all sides of the issue, pondering just how to classify a team with an out-of-this world offense and a bottom-of-the-barrel defense. Maybe she'll have the answers one day. Maybe she'll be able to talk by then. In the meantime: dimples!

Another weird game. Nothing to see here with the offense, thirty points again, thanks for asking. But the defense… the defense! They gave up twenty-one points to a team that, from what I can tell, wasn't trying to score. Instead of letting Sanchez sit back in the face of an anemic pass rush and mix up short and intermediate passes against a weak secondary they decided to try something that hasn't worked all season against the one part of Belichick's defense that hasn't been terrible. Keller was "held to" (since it was an offensive scheme and not a defensive counter-scheme) one catch. That man is a killer! Holmes, Burress, Tomlinson, even this Kerley guy, all wasted by poor offensive coaching. It's almost poetic.

Ground and pound! Ground and pound!
My ground and pound is worl' renowned.
A row of Patsies lef' spellbound
All up n' down the whole playground.

Say there, baby, tightly wound,
Let's you n' me go fool around.
I'll show you what you ain't yet found
And take you there without no bound.

Jus' wait a sec… big Vince's mound…
Nowheres to go, east nor westbound.
Thought ground and pound was too profound.
Thought ground and pound be always crowned.

Too goddamn late to press rewound,
I lose three yards before I's downed.
My green Jet knees done got all browned.
My unsound ground and pound's aground.

Say where you at, my foxy hound?
Catch you on the next rebound?
At least I's got my meat to pound.
Pound and pound! Pound and pound!

The bitter was pretty good. I got it at another one of those tastings. Pretty Things is still Pretty Touch-and-Go to me but I like this one, just not as much as the St. Botolph's. Everyone else at the tasting liked it too and I gave someone the stink eye after I thought he took the last two bombers. More were hidden behind the counter, thankfully, but the stink eye was not rescinded.

Up next: The Jerry Jones Traveling Circus comes to Foxborough. They used the bye week to figure out a new way to stay competitive into the fourth quarter before crapping all over the game of football for the nth time in the Tony Romo era. Cheers!

Beer and football II — week four

The game: Patriots at Raiders
The beer: Notch Saison
The result: Win, 31–19
The commentary: I wonder what would have happened if Hank Williams Jr. compared Obama to Jesus. Will we ever survive without "Are you ready for some football?!" Forget for a minute that Monday Night Football is no longer all that relevant. Sure, my team was its first game of the year, and it's nice to drink on a Monday, but Monday night matchups have been pretty spotty ever since it migrated to ESPN. I can't be the only person who fast-forwarded through that rowdy-friends crap.

Essential analysis from my friends over at Patriots Daily after week three's vexing defeat. (I don't actually know the writers but I always, always agree with what they have to say and I would buy them all a round of Saisons given the opportunity.) They post a handful of items per week: a reaction to the previous game, a preview of what to look for in the upcoming game, a more in-depth examination of said game's key players and matchups, a wonderfully snarky around-the-league review and a nice "buffet table" of thematic/regional food and drink suggestions to enjoy on Sunday. (It's Clown Shoes this week, can you believe it? Apparently I didn't catch the pump dong on last week's Lubrication.) They'll also write more of a traditional column offering either a fresh perspective on an (elsewhere) overdone topic or an outside-the-box "think piece" covering some aspect of the team that flies under the radar of other media outlets like WEEI (usually too terrified to criticize the team) or the Globe or Herald (quick to criticize but more in the form of an aimless old man). This one sort of straddles that line and it's the best thing I've read on their site in the two or three years I've been following them. They target every gripe I've had with the team (particularly the defense) and really hammer home that poor drafting is the root of the issue. I love following Mike Reiss's reporting because no one gets the access he does and his analysis is usually excellent (or at least interesting) but I'm sure getting tired of him trying to tell us the defense isn't as bad as we think. Take this absurd point of view that the team is giving up more yards than anybody because, with good kickoff coverage, they have the most potential yards to give up. Or something. It's his worst writing since the last time (of many) he called the 2007 draft a success because Belichick used picks to acquire Welker and Moss, even though no one remains from that class after Lawyer Milloy and Fred Marion smothered Meriweather in his sleep last month.

Along those lines, I thought the two-part Bill Belichick: A Football Life was pretty good. It wasn't the best season to follow for sure—hindsight, I know, but if you're going to pick non-Super Bowl years then how fascinating would 2006 (no proven wide receivers, horrendous AFC Championship loss to the Colts) or 2008 (no Brady, no playoffs) have been? I guess we'll take whatever kind of behind-the-scenes footage of our tight-lipped coach that we can get. 2009 was such a weird year and I think they did as good a job documenting it as they could, particularly during the horrendous Saints game when Belichick is telling Brady "I just can't get these guys to play the way I want them to." Love the prolonged silences in that scene. The season might as well have ended right there.

The problem, oddly familiar with the current squad, is that "these guys" are not a collection of first-round draft picks who simply have yet to emerge as stars. Since the last Super Bowl victory and up through 2009 the list of big-impact draft picks consists of Logan Mankins (2005, last pick of the first round), Stephen Gostkowski (2006, and already stretching to include a kicker… as if stretching to include a guard wasn't bad enough), Jerod Mayo (2008) and Patrick Chung (2009). I'm not including Sebastian Vollmer because he's played only one game so far this season and probably won't play this afternoon. Things improved in 2010 with McCourty (fingers crossed he figures things out), Gronkowski (Pro Bowl for him this year) and Hernandez. Throw in some flashes from Spikes and excellent punting (stretching again!) from Mesko and it's a pretty good class, though Cunningham has played only a handful more quality snaps than my daughter this year. From 2011, it looks like Solder and Ridley are immediately doing very well. I have high hopes for Dowling but he's already been injured too much, and that's never a good sign. Nothing at all to go on with the rest, though I wonder if Vereen might see a little action today.

That's seven drafts featuring (I think) nine opportunities to select a game-changing player—offensive or defensive—in the first round, and that's before you start counting Belichick's intra-round dealings. Instead you're left with Mankins, Mayo and McCourty from the above list and a lot of trade down, trade down, trade into next year and so on. Never identifying a player and moving up to secure him, often having to settle. Even when they do target someone, as with Mayo, they moved down three spots from seven to ten and hoped he would still be there, gaining a third-round Shawn Crable to throw on the bust pile in the process. He was there. They got their guy. But how excited could they really have been about it? And how excited should we Patriots fans be that he'll be out for a few weeks with a knee injury and the defense he's leaving behind cannot possibly do worse without him? DeMarcus Ware, Haloti Ngata, Patrick Willis, Darelle Revis: pick one of these guys and the Pats win at least one of the last six Super Bowls (2007), probably two (2006) and maybe even three (2010). I'm being greedy, sure, but Tom Brady is the best quarterback in the league and his shitty shit-covered shit-bum defense is holding him back.

It comes down to players, and as the one who chooses his players—and who has ample opportunity for blue-chip rookies, with the picks he stashes away year after year—it's all on Belichick. I'll still take him as my team's head coach but I wish he would either loosen up his unrealistic and, lately, flawed standards and appraisals and start choosing the superstars-in-waiting instead of the overachieving undrafted free agents or, in an impossible scenario, relinquish his football operations responsibilities and bring in or promote someone (not Nick Caserio, who might be able to throw a tight spiral but has done nothing to influence the organization toward can't-miss defensive prospects) to shop for the groceries.

On that topic, a fond farewell to all-around nice guy Terry Francona. Baseball manager is the least important coaching position in all of professional sports unless the guy is also the team's general manager, and I'm not sure if that's even allowed. These are grown men playing a child's game and if they refuse to take it seriously then the best a manager can do is decide who should pitch, who should hit and how many cutoff guys should be in place when Jacoby Ellsbury shags a deep fly ball with a man on second. Theo Epstein brought in a bunch of bums who couldn't make it to the postseason again because they're not good enough. As I said, it comes down to players and talent. It's Theo's job (for now… tick, tick, tick) to recognize good players. It's not his job to pretend the Sox are a small-market team and look down upon the Monopoly-money Yankees because they overspend and don't rely enough on value. He'd spend just as much, and could, if he just had the balls. Increasingly it seems the ownership likes to meddle and likely has a (still high) self-imposed salary cap in place, but even if that's true it doesn't mean John Lackey was ever Theo's best idea. Once again I'm left to wonder what could have been if that 2004 team was left intact—I don't remember much about 2007 anyway. In short, if Theo gets to keep his job after Tito was unceremoniously kicked to the curb then I'm pretty all set with not caring about baseball for awhile. Honestly, I haven't in a few years anyway.

Back to football. The Jets have been talking all week about how they're going to return to ground-and-pound football, even if they don't have the personnel for it (though it sounds like Mangold will start, is that really a good idea?). I call bullshit on that: didn't they see the Raiders march ninety-nine yards in forty-eight seconds to score a meaningless touchdown at the end of the last week's game? What kind of defense allows that? Against Jason "Three Hundred Forty-four Yards" Campbell? The answer is either one that doesn't care (part of 2009's problem) or one that doesn't have enough football ability. Three guys played well on defense against the Raiders: Vince Wilfork, Patrick Chung and Brandon Spikes. Shaun Ellis made it clear why the Jets cut him. Sergio Brown is not the guy I had pretty high hopes for after a strong rookie season. Devin McCourty has secretly switched places with his inferior twin brother Jason from the Titans. There is nowhere to go but up and I'm glad a shaky Mark Sanchez is the opposing quarterback this week. (I'd still take Sanchez over Joeflacco, who ceaselessly scrambled around like a retarded monkey last week and won the game because his defense was better than the Jets'.) But it's a long, long way up.

I apologize that I'm spoiled and whining but excellence commands further, greater excellence. I just love this team so much! (I know you do, honey.) I love them so much! (I know.) On a lighter note, I'm excited the good guys are donning the classic Pat Patriot reds today. But why no cool blue and yellow New York Titans throwbacks for the Jets? It's like they're conceding victory already.

Up next: The Pats host the Jets in like twenty minutes. No outcome will surprise me. Cheers!

Beer and football II — week three

The game: Patriots at Bills
The beer: Clown Shoes Lubrication American Black Ale
The result: Loss, 34–31
The commentary: No pictures of my little girl will accompany losses, especially losses as ugly and perplexing as this. Deion Branch was invisible all day, and since he's her favorite player she will be too.

My boy Paul Perillo from Patriots Football Weekly/PFW in Progress has "the nod," which occurs at the point in the game when, to him, a Patriots victory is no longer in doubt. My equivalent of the nod came with three seconds left in the first half when I told G. the Bills were pansies for electing to kick a field goal and close the gap to 21–10. I still can't believe they didn't go for the touchdown—if it weren't for four Tom Brady interceptions (note to local media: passes that are tipped or batted down by defensive linemen are the quarterback's fault and resulting interceptions are indeed legit) the Bills would have gotten smoked. This cowardly decision should have signaled the beginning of the end of their inevitable 6–10 season, and instead the three points they "settled for" was the difference in the game (Paul's not always right either). Still, under normal circumstances against a good offensive team I don't see much difference between fourteen- and eleven-point halftime deficits. Eleven versus seven points though? You still need two touchdowns! If the Bills keep playing it safe then their hold on the AFC East won't last long.

Regarding the hometown team, this defense is scaring the hell out of me. The "new" pass rush stinks, but when the ball is thrown two seconds after the snap and Devin McCourty (what in the worldwide fuck is going on with him?) and Leigh Bodden are being dusted and racking up tackle stats then there is an inherent problem with the secondary. Patrick Chung was out and it looked like Kyle Arrington was the only one even competing, which is never a good sign when you consider he still made mistakes and, you know, is neither a first-round pick nor a big-money free agent. From what we've seen so far, and as I feared in week one, these guys are only going to stop teams from scoring by creating turnovers. Hard to do when you're so overmatched you don't even have time to turn around and look for the ball.

I have no concerns about the offense. Thirty-one points should be enough to win and I'll take a bad day by Tom Brady over a good day by ninety-five percent of the league's quarterbacks. Almost four hundred yards, sixty-seven percent completion rate, four touchdowns, zero sacks. It looks like he won't have last year's luck in terms of tipped balls hitting the turf instead of opponents' hands but that's OK. Ochocinco is deservedly on the hot seat for that dropped touchdown pass but I'm more worried about the fact that he was barely targeted even before that. Just tells me Brady doesn't have much confidence in him—drops like that will surely generate less (as we've seen before, if Brady freezes you out then you might as well skip town). In the meantime, I'll continue to wonder when Taylor Price will be activated so he can either blow everyone away with seven catches for a hundred and twenty yards or not register at all on the stat sheet and go down with another injury. One way or the other, I just want to know.

I first became aware of Clown Shoes (out of Ipswich) at one of the tastings at the shop up the street, which sadly closed down last month (or went on "hiatus" with plans to open up elsewhere in town, hopefully still walkable). Featured that day were a brown ale ("Brown Angel"), a witbier ("Clementine"), a Belgian IPA ("Tramp Stamp") (!) and an imperial amber ale ("Eagle Claw Fist"). None of them was particularly good except for the amber, which was alright, so I brought one home that day. Their labels border on poor taste, too—exceptionally cheesy ethnic-looking characters grace the Brown Angel (a winged black woman with a ripe ole ass posing as a hood ornament or something) and the Eagle Claw Fist (a homeless Indian doing calisthenics in the park). But the one that actually made a woman ask the Clown Shoes rep "Do people ever complain about your labels?" was the Tramp Stamp. He laughed it off, saying it was all in good fun. She looked close to telling him the Nazis were having fun, too. I wish she had… the Tramp Stamp wasn't that good. Months later, on an undoubtedly slow news day, a local station ran a story on how offensive their labels are. That lady must have known people.

Anyway, the shop had a clearance sale before closing and I picked up a bunch of bombers that will get me halfway through the season. One of them, for the purposes of variety, was the Lubrication. You know how craft brewers give you a few sentences describing the flavors or origins of what you're drinking? This one starts "Lube? Hey, get your mind out of the gutter!" Such is the path they have chosen, though I'm majorly impressed at the discipline they showed in characterizing an American black ale. Nonetheless, I think my biggest problem with Clown Shoes is not that their beer isn't very good or that their labels are off-putting but that they apparently incorporated the first Google image search result as their logo.

Up next: The Pats head to Oakland to see about holding a team to fewer than twenty-one points. I'm not too familiar with the Raiders and I wish I'd watched that Jets game. Insert Al Davis joke here. Cheers!

Beer and football II — week two

The game: Chargers at Patriots
The beer: Rogue Mocha Porter
The result: Win, 35–21
The commentary: "Which beer are you having?" "Do you want me to drink the Mocha Porter?" "Yes." "OK." A's re-ability to drink coincided nicely with the return of football, and I couldn't refuse her since she's been lusting after this bomber ever since I brought it home a couple of months ago. She only had a few sips but, man oh man, did she like it. I did too, right down to the Daily Worker guy on the front—don't let the teal tint fool you, that shirt is gray.

I'll keep this short because I didn't last week and because I go back to work tomorrow for the first time in three weeks. Blech. Yesterday featured a much more satisfying win over the Chargers than was last year's, which rated Total Mess on the Zero-to-Total-Mess scale. My daughter watched with me (that's her struggling to make it through the first half) and that definitely helped, especially since I've determined Deion Branch is her favorite player.

The defense was iffy again but I love two goal-line stands in two games. What I would love more though is for this team to figure out how to put some goddamn pressure on opposing goddamn quarterbacks. It's a good thing they nullified Antonio Gates because it could have gotten ugly, as Vincent Jackson almost made it so on his own. It'd be funny if after all the personnel changes and philosophical shifts the defense went through in the offseason they still survived week to week by creating turnovers and otherwise coming up big at the absolute last second they need to. They gave up huge chunks of yardage last year and won fourteen out of seventeen games. Reasonable to think that, so long as the offense keeps clicking, they can be just as good or better this year.

Quickly on Romo. I slammed him on Saturday and I stand by it. He beat the 49ers a good fifteen years after anyone should take a Cowboys–49ers game seriously.

Up next: The Pats travel to Buffalo to put out the wildfire caused by everyone's "Holy shit, can you believe the Bills?!" insanity following consecutive big-time wins over small-time teams. Still, Fitzpatrick will remain the third-best quarterback in the AFC East. Cheers!

Beer and football II: Another season-long diary

Week one
The game: Patriots at Dolphins
The beer: Berkshire Saint of Circumstance India Pale Ale
The result: Win, 38–24
The commentary: I'm calling this season "2011" even though it spills into 2012 because "2011/2012" is a little clumsy. I'm more bothered by it than you are. [Edit: How did I not yet resolve this with Roman numerals? I know nothing about football.]

So here's my little "G." Isn't she the most precious thing in all of history? Very nice of her to pose with my kicked BBC bomber, putting a tiny little baby hand up there like that. (One of the outtake photos had her pointing at her mouth with Homer Simpson's "beer goes in here" enthusiasm, but it was a little blurry.) Her mom's only reservation when I asked if I could put the bottle in with her was to "make sure it's clean." That's family.

The Monday night game marked her two-week birthday and Tom Brady & His Patriot Men really lit it up for her. Happy fortnight, daughter! The outcome was never in doubt, even after the Dolphins marched up the field on the opening drive on their way to a 7–0 lead. Before too long I was holding G. and narrating (in a soothing Tom Selleck voice, of course) a string of big Deion Branch gains to try to put her to sleep. Overall I did a good job of not yelling too loudly—neither she nor our cat Chloe was disturbed by my excitement over a number of huge Branch, Welker, Woodhead, Gronkowski and Hernandez plays. And yes, it is awesome to be able to list all those offensive weapons together.

But the defense? Mayo had another one of his is-he-even-out-there games. McCourty looked like Ellis Hobbs, in position to make too many tackles (which means too many catches allowed). The pass rush was inconsistent at best, familiar at worst (as in: nonexistent). Overall, Henne just looked too good, even if a lot of his yards came in prevent/garbage time. Hopefully Belichick makes some adjustments (not his strong suit lately) in time for an explosive Chargers team tomorrow.

(Not sure what it's like to be a Fins fan this week. The offense was decent but the defense was entirely useless. Hard to be optimistic. They'll probably finish with six or seven wins and get blown up again in the offseason—that's what happens when your most heralded player is a left tackle and the guy he's protecting is a bum.)

(Speaking of bums, how about Tony Romo? Aside from Donovan McNabb—yikes—he might be the worst quarterback in the league. That was one of the most awful individual meltdowns I've ever seen, and of course it benefited the fucking Jets. Meanwhile, Sanchez is in midseason shaky-start/stellar-finish form. Another fun year for the AFC East.)

Anyway, despite what I wrote following last year's, uh, fun AFC East playoff matchup, maybe I do know something about football. It's just the little details like wins, losses and production that get hazy. Remember my post-Super Bowl roster projection? Not bad. I'll start with the big things I got wrong, so as not to get all high on myself: I didn't think they'd cut Alge Crumpler or Gerard Warren. They brought Warren back for a few minutes in the preseason before cutting him again—the defensive line rotation was pretty good the other night so I'm not sure he'll be back again, but I can't believe another idiot Gronkowski brother is a better blocking tight end than my man Crumpler. My only guess is he's still recovering from injury (multiple surgeries) and once that's squared away he'll resume last year's role as Mr. Miyagi to Hernandez's and Gronkowski's (the real one) scatterbrain LaRusso brothers. Those two put on an offensive clinic last week and I just want to make sure they don't get all Terry Silver arrogant on us. (I watched The Karate Kid, Part III the other day. Paternity leave rules!) Since there's been no news of Crumpler retiring or working out for other teams, I figure there's some wink-wink-nudge-nudge talk between his camp and Belichick's that he'll be welcomed back. Nu-Gronk is even keeping 82 warm for him.

I also missed on Koppen still being with the team. I thought he'd be one of those role players Belichick likes to cut a year before his contract expires—little did I know he'd stay on only to miss the bulk of the season due to injury. I like the guy and he and Brady do alright together, but he's a little undersized against the physical AFC defenses we play every year (Jets, Chargers, Ravens). I hope Connolly does well at center because I like keeping him in full time, and if that carries on then I love 2012's young starters of Solder at left tackle (even Matt Light admitted the second half of the "two-year" contract he just signed is essentially make-believe), Mankins at left guard (would be the most established veteran on the line), Connolly (or a first-round draft pick) at center, a cancer-free Marcus Cannon with something to prove at right guard (fingers crossed) and "The Texan Kraut" Sebastian Vollmer (not an actual nickname) at right tackle. That group could play together through 2020.

Last but not least, James "That's a Champion Right There" Sanders was cut. No one saw that coming except for the people who knew week to week how important he was to the defensive backfield and feared week to week that he would be released. Shocking and unfortunate. I won't take as much heat on keeping Darius Butler as a fourth-stringer because I didn't think they'd draft a corner with the first pick in the second round. On that topic, how come everyone around here says that pick is essentially a late first-rounder but no one called Mankins an early second-rounder in 2005?

A gray area shows up with my man Kevin Faulk, who I thought would take the Tedy Bruschi route and retire during training camp after realizing there wasn't a place for him on the team. And that was before the team drafted running backs in the second and third rounds. I like the PUP direction though and I'm glad he's around the team (the young backs in particular) right now, and his potential return in October or November would be good for everyone. The only way that doesn't happen is if Green-Ellis and Woodhead stay healthy and rookies Ridley and Vereen are running for a hundred yards apiece every game. No way there are five active running backs week to week and I don't see a Patriot of Faulk's stature being DNPCD'd. We'll see. In other gray-area news, I'm not savvy enough to have called the defensive scheme shift or the unlikely Haynesworth (who looked pretty good) trade, though I've been hinting at Ochocino's arrival for years. Look it up!

So where did I hit? I'll keep it short: Ty Warren. Kaczur. TBC. Meriweather. You're welcome.

On to the beer then. The Saint of Circumstance is BBC's "accidental guess" at what nineteenth century English IPAs might have tasted like. It's a limited release I first tasted at last month's beer dinner at the Cambridge Common. (So limited that I was pleasantly surprised to find it locally in bottles the following week.) That evening, the co-founder explained that it was intended to be a batch of their Lost Sailor IPA (see last year's week four) except the crate of hops had to have survived a warehouse fire or something because the brewed result was milder, smokier and certainly "not Lost Sailor." I attended the dinner with two friends and we were all blown away by how good it was—undoubtedly our favorite of the six or seven beers we had that night. It was better on tap, as usual, but the bomber was an excellent opening-night option. Right on.

Up next: Bring on the Bolts. In the preseason I penciled this in as one of four losses, along with the Giants, at the Jets and either at Oakland or at Philadelphia. I'll take this one back: the Pats win because the Chargers once again forget to print out the special teams portion of their playbook. Cheers!