My below-average weekend

Anytime you start a story with something like “it could have been a lot worse” or “at least no one was hurt”, you know what follows will be at least mildly shitty.

Well my weekend could have been a lot worse; at least no one was hurt. And I do mean that somewhat sincerely. I realize that there are starving kids in China – probably elsewhere too – and there is homelessness and poverty and those drug addicts on The Wire who steal copper pipes just to pay for their next fix. So yeah, things could be worse. On a scale from getting eaten by a Sharknado, to winning the lottery, my weekend was somewhere slightly below average – probably just above “taking a poop in someone else’s house and realizing the toilet paper roll is empty”.

But I’m complaining because normally my life is super awesome. I have a great job, a beautiful wife, a pain-in-the-ass-but-still-lovable cat, and two sports teams who could win a championship this year. And that’s only like half of what I have. My life is great, which is why when something mildly shitty happens, it feels pretty darn shitty compared to my normal life. And that’s how this weekend felt.

I woke up Saturday morning, expecting to go for a bike ride with some friends. As I was toasting a bagel, I noticed Shaqachusetts scratching at the widow by his kitty-fort. Then I noticed the window was cracked open. Weird. Then I noticed the lock on the window was broken, and Shaq’s kitty fort was shoved out of the way, and the back door was unlocked, and the screen from the window was lying in the backyard, and oh yeah, Jenny’s clothes from the bedside table downstairs were thrown on the floor, and my dresser drawers had been open when I got home last night, and holy crap, Jenny’s iPad was missing, and damnit, now my bagel’s burning. It’s a very strange feeling when you realize your house was broken into. Especially when you didn’t even notice the night before. I guess that speaks to how, in the great scheme of things, it really was only mildly shitty. But still, it feels really strange and it sucks a lot. Just the thought of some douchebag asshole punk going through your things, taking whatever he (or she? ... ok fine, he) wants. I guess I should be relieved that he closed the door and window behind him, only took an iPad and a bunch of i-device chargers, and didn’t do any unnecessary damage or destruction. He’s still an asshole though and the feeling is still super unsettling. But the reality is if your life sucks so much that you need to break into random peoples’ houses to steal iPads, your normal day would be a super shitty day for me. Jerk. And if TV crime shows have taught me anything, you’ll end up in prison, getting shivved on the way to the showers -- if you’re lucky.

The below-average weekend didn’t end there though. The Sounders played at 11:30, in a sort of “must win” game. And they got trounced. Again. For the first time in franchise history, they lost their fourth consecutive game. I’m now convinced the front office cursed us by sending out a “reserve your playoff tickets now” e-mail before we had officially qualified for the playoffs. In their defense, the only way we wouldn’t have qualified when they sent that out was if we lost the rest of our games and some other teams won/lost appropriately. But now it’s looking like that’s exactly what might happen. When that cursed e-mail was sent, the Sounders were one point out of first place in the league. Since then we’ve lost 1-5, 1-4, 0-1 and 0-2. That’s a 2-12 goal differential for those keeping score at home. Oh, also Oba got hurt, Eddie got hurt, Zakuani got hurt, Dempsey dislocated his shoulder, Zach Scott got suspended, Ozzie got suspended, and Portland qualified for the playoffs for the first time in franchise history. This is textbook sports-curse stuff. And sports-curses are not something to take lightly, just ask any Boston fan.

As if having a stranger dig through our underwear drawers and watching our beloved Sounders cursed for the foreseeable future wasn’t enough, my “could have gone a lot better” weekend continued this morning. I had to come into work at 5am on a Sunday. We’re upgrading Epic, our EMR, to the 2012 release. It’s actually kind of a big deal and honestly a good thing. But coming to work at 5am on a Sunday isn’t very much fun. Even when you’re helping solve the health care crisis. Hashtag Humblebrag.

I guess that really does put things in perspective though right? My shitty weekend involved “only” having an iPad stolen, watching one of my teams lose, and coming into a job that I love at 5am to do work that is meaningful, rewarding, and important. Later today, I’ll go to a dinner party with some of my best friends and watch my Broncos play on Sunday Night Football. Sure, they could lose too. And the way the weekend is going, they probably will. But it’ll be okay. I mean, it’ll suck compared to my normal weekend. But there are starving kids in China, lighten up.

And we’ll be ready next time. We’re getting a probably over-priced security system installed. It’s worth it for the peace of mind. I’ll figure out a way to appease the sports-gods to get this Sounders curse lifted (hopefully before the playoffs), and the Broncos have Peyton Effing Manning. Relax. My life is pretty great, even if my weekend was below average.

Soccer is way harder than I remember

Last Tuesday I played a soccer game for the first time in about 15 years. Despite the long absence from the game, my resume preceded me: Cost Cutter Cup Champion, nineteen-ninety-something. I'm sure everyone's well aware of the famed Cost Cutter Cup, but for those who don't follow U-13 rec soccer in Bellingham, Washington: it's only the most prestigious thing you can win on a non-competitive youth team that doesn't have tryouts, has rules about giving all the kids playing time, and is coached by someone's dad. So basically, a really big deal.

It didn't seem to matter Tuesday night though. Wow, was I bad. I expected to sort of suck since I hadn't kicked a soccer ball in over a decade, but I figured my fitness would at least carry me to slightly above-average mediocrity. Nope. Despite being in the best shape I've been in since college, my body doesn't move laterally. If soccer required running at a consistent pace with only gradual turns -- preferably to the left -- I would've been a rockstar. But this whole sprinting and juking and cutting and lunging all while trying to control a ball is a freaking pain in the ass. And groin. And hips. Actually, it's sort of a pain in every muscle in my body, even ones I didn't know existed.

I won't get into one of those silly "which sport is harder debates" debates because it's stupid. Running is definitely more "I have to fight through pain and push myself" hard, but soccer is more technically challenging. If you suck at running, you're just slow. No one really cares. But if you suck at soccer, you sort of look like one of those dogs in YouTube videos who unwillingly has shoes strapped to his feet. It's awkward and embarrassing. Your brain knows what it wants your feet to do with the ball but your feet can't do it.

My shining moment came midway through our first game (as if one game after a 15 year hiatus wasn't bad enough, we opened the season with a double-header). I found myself sprinting into the 18-yard box right as my teammate sent in a beautiful low cross. All I had to do was put the ball on frame and I was guaranteed a goal. Keepers in this rec league are pretty bad so as long as you don't hit them in the chest, they're probably not saving anything. I distinctly remember running in to connect with the ball and thinking, "whatever you do don't launch this over the goal, just put it on target, that's all you have to do." Before the game, my cousin had told me that the easiest mistake to make in your first game is kicking the ball way too hard. Everyone boots their first few shots over the goal, that's the one thing I need to be careful of. Okay, got it. I need to just not do that.

Bam.

I skyed it.

You would've thought I was trying to hit a 63 yard field goal with the kind of air I put under the ball. Not even close. I made Zakuani's finishing look world-class.

We went on to lose both games by a combined 6-12 (ish). I had an assist or two somewhere in there and didn't kick anymore field goals so maybe that's improvement. But man, I'm horrible at soccer. It can only improve from here though, right? Our next game is Tuesday, and my goal is to have less completely embarrassing moments. I know I won't get back to my Cost Cutter Cup Champion brilliance in one week, but hopefully I can take a few steps in that direction.

Can't hang with 'em, can't out kick 'em

When I was a real runner, we used to have a saying: "Can't hang with 'em, can't out kick 'em, what can ya do?" It was sort of a joke. There are times when you have to race against someone who's just better. Maybe not if you're Mo Farah, but for basically everyone else you'll have races where there doesn't seem to be any possible way you can win.

That's how it felt for the first 134 minutes of the Sounders-Tigres quarterfinal series of the CONCACAF Champions League. During the first leg of the series, stringing together five or six consecutive passes felt like an accomplishment for the Sounders. For 90 minutes, the top team in Mexico relentlessly pounded our back line with shot after shot after shot. Thanks to a few clutch saves and some sloppy finishing, we managed to escape with just a 0-1 loss. We couldn't hang with 'em, but at least we were within reach.

Then the second leg in Seattle started and despite a handful of opportunities, we just couldn't put the ball into the net. Seizing one of their few early opportunities, Tigres launched a quick counter attack, kicked Yedlin to the turf and scored an easy goal. Game over. With away goals being the first tie breaker, we'd need three goals to avoid being knocked out in the quarterfinals for the second year in a row. You could feel the stadium deflate. You could see it on the field too. The fire was all but extinguished and if not for another couple spectacular saves by Gspurning, the game could have gotten completely out of hand.

Then something strange happened. We caught a break. For a team that had more than our fair share of coin-flips go against us, it was nice to win one for a change. In the 45th minute, Manuel Viniegra, who was already on a yellow card for time wasting, drew another yellow. Maybe a bit of a soft yellow, but the ref who'd been liberal with the cards all night stayed consistent and sent him off. We went into halftime down 0-2 on aggregate, needing to score three goals in 45 minutes, but we were up a man. And more importantly, we had a little bit of a hope. And an underdog, who can't hang with you and can't out kick you, but somehow someway has a spark of home going into the last lap, is a very dangerous thing.

The second half began and the fire was back. Playing 11v10 helped for sure, but we were playing with a confidence and a desire that hadn't been there before. And in the 53rd minute it payed off. DeAndre Yedlin, the homegrown 19 year old right back, launched a long range volley that seemed to defy logic, space, and time. In just his 2nd professional start, he fired what will surely be one of the most memorable goals in Sounders history. I remember watching the ball sail, in what felt like slow motion, into the back of the net. It was one of the most beautiful goals I've ever seen. At least until fellow defender Djimi "The D is Silent" Traore blasted a golazo of his own a mere seven minutes later, sending Century-Link Field into an absolute frenzy. With his voice cracking from the excitement, Ross Fletcher said it best, "30 yards out, left foot rocket, cannoning off the underside of the cross-bar, no goal keeper in the universe will stop it. Seattle lead 2-1 and the dream is very much alive." It was magical. When every shot seemed to go just wide, or be safely covered by the Tigres keeper, it took a couple moments of brilliance from the least likely of sources to bring us roaring back with a vengeance. 

The "small" crowd of 20,000 erupted like packed and house and you could feel that we were experiencing history. It was all but inevitable when Eddie Johnson broke free down the left hand side and slipped a shot through the non-existent gap at the near post to give us the lead. We were beating the best team in Mexico. For the first time ever, an MLS team would knock out a Liga MX team in the elimination round of CCL. History, we just wrote it. Unbelievable.

It was hands-down the greatest comeback I've seen in person, the greatest win I've seen in person, and the greatest damn sporting event I've ever seen in person. In my pantheon of non-championship wins, I'm having a hard time remembering anything better than this. Because the Sounders showed how you beat someone when you can't hang with 'em, and you can't out kick 'em. You just keep fighting. No matter how impossible it seems, you don't give up and you don't give in. Because crazy shit happens. Maybe it's a 19 year old kid with crazy hair launching a ridiculous shot that he has no business taking, or 33 year-old defender scoring his 1st ever goal for a club team, but the impossible happens all the time in sports. It's only impossible until it happens.

Of course, the journey's not over yet. The goal was never just to make it to the semi-finals. But after watching history unfold right right in front of me, over the course of 45 minutes on a rainy Tuesday night in Seattle, I know that we'll keeping fighting. Because that's what we do. We are Sounders, mighty Sounders, we are Sounders from Brougham End.

Way over-thinking a reality television show

There's that saying in sports, "May the best man/woman/team win". I don't know if anyone really means it, it's just what we say. But I've long argued that the thing that really makes sports great is that the best man/woman/team doesn't always win. It'd be boring if they did. Most of the time, the best team wins. If they didn't, it'd ruin the integrity of the sport. But without upsets, why would we even watch?

I bring this up because Chuck Klosterman recently interviewed Jeff Probst in a must-hear podcast. One of his most interesting questions was whether Survivor promotes mediocrity. That instead of the best player winning, the most average player wins. At the start of the competition, the old and weak are voted off first; in the spirit of keeping the tribe strong and winning immunity challenges, the athletes usually team up to get rid of everyone who's a liability. Later, the game evolves into voting off the biggest threats. Inevitably, the guy who had won five immunity challenges in a row gets snuffed as soon as he fails to throw a bean bag into a bucket before someone else does. This leaves us with the "middle class" winning in the end. Whoever didn't suck enough to get voted off early, but didn't dominate enough to get targeted late ends up winning.

The question blew my mind. I'd never thought about it before, but was Survivor just a competition to see who was the most average? Devastated that my third favorite sport could be a fraud, I did some serious soul-searching. After praying meditating thinking about it for about seventeen minutes on the bus ride home, I've decided that no, Survivor doesn't promote mediocrity.

Like any sport, there are upsets. We all remember when Sandra beat Parvati six votes to three in season 20 -- it was one of the biggest upsets in sports/reality show history. The better woman lost but it was an upset, not a celebration of mediocrity. Most of the time that doesn't happen. Usually, the best player wins. Or at least one of the best players wins. It often comes down to which of the few true contenders makes the decisive move at the right time. Who wins a crucial immunity challenge, who reads the other poker hands correctly, or who can sway the couple undecided votes in the jury when it comes down to it. These qualities are not a lack of physical prowess or simply being unthreatening. They're a combination of decision making ability, charisma, leadership, and intuition.

For the sake of way over-thinking a reality television show (and to convince myself that my last decade of Survivor watching hasn't been a waste of time), let's break down a few of the most iconic Survivor contestants of all time.

Russel Hantz

Russel's probably the most famous "villain" in Survivor history. He impressively made it to the finals in two consecutive seasons, a feat that had never been done before and will probably never be done again. When he lost in the finals two seasons in a row, he argued that it was because the game was flawed. That he deserved to win, in a way asking the same question as Klosterman. However, he was wrong. He was spectacular at getting second place, but could not finish. Not because he was "too good". But because he lacked the most important skill of any Survivor winner: finding a way to get the people who you vote off, to vote for you to win a million dollars. It takes subtlety and finesse. You have to be able to beat people and have them respect you for it, not resent you.

Boston Rob

Rob has the advantage of having been on the show four times. But you could see how the experience paid off. In his final season, he was unquestionably the best player and rightfully won the million bucks. It was the single greatest season anyone has ever played. The best move he made was keeping his original tribe loyal post-merge. Often times, we see the tribe with bigger numbers turn on each other, thinking they have to be the one backstabbing lest they get backstabbed themselves. Rob remedied this with one of the most brilliant strategies in the history of Survivor. Brilliant but simple. The "buddy system". No one from his original tribe was ever allowed to be alone. They all partnered up and refused to even pretend to talk strategy with the opposing tribe. It was an impenetrable defense. Rob also had both short-term and long-term strategies planned out. He knew who he wanted on the jury and who he wanted to sit next to at the end. There's no guaranteed blueprint on how to win Survivor, you have to adapt to every situation and Rob did that beautifully.

Parvati

Until Rob's unparalleled season, Parvati was my pick for greatest to ever play the game. And you could argue her overall record is just as good impressive, with 1st, 2nd, and 6th place finishes compared to Rob's 1st, 2nd, 10th, and 13th. Especially because she was always flagged as a threat early on and still managed to make it to make it deep into the "playoffs" every season. Being able to stick around after you get a target on your back is one of those skills that you can't teach. You either have it or you don't. One of Parvati's greatest accomplishments was defeating Ozzy in season 16. The move that is forever etched in the record books occurred at the always crucial crossroads with nine players left, when a 5-4 blindside is possible, but risky. The episode was a clinic on how to win Survivor. It started with winning immunity in an endurance challenge (stand on a log and hold your arm above your head for as long as you can). Then setting up the blindside (let's vote of Jason like we always planned to do, but really we'll take this opportunity to vote off the amazing, but a little too trusting, Ozzy). What often gets overlooked here is that this single move probably won her the entire game. By keeping her side-promise to Jason and not voting him off, she won his jury vote, which ended up being the decisive vote for her to win 5-3. It didn't matter if she took the heat for backstabbing Ozzy, he was going to vote for Amanda to win no matter what. The move netted her one jury vote, got rid of of biggest competitor and gave her the most persuasive argument for why she deserved to win -- "I decided to pull the trigger and axe the front-runner, I did so by winning and leading, not by following and riding someone else's coattails." It was possibly the only scenario that would have lead to her eventual victory and it was executed perfectly. I'm actually starting to talk myself back into ranking Parvati as number one all time.

JT

In an easily overlooked performance because it was so boring, JT's win in season 18 deserves some credit. His brilliance was in voting people off and being almost apologetic about it. "Sorry Coach, I don't want you to go, but that's just the way the numbers are going to fall." His decisive move came immediately after the merge, using his charisma to win over enough opposing tribe members to keep his outnumbered original tribe not only alive, but somehow in control. He left himself a little vulnerable to a blindside, but one could argue that he knew his alliances were tight enough that he had nothing to worry about. What firmly established himself as the best player of his season was his performance in the final tribal council. He acted genuinely hurt when Stephen admitted that he might not have taken JT to the end with him if he'd won the final immunity challenge. It was only after the votes were counted and JT had won 7-0 that he admitted there was no way he would have kept himself around if he'd been in Stephen's shoes. When faced with stiffer competition in season 20, JT showed why he's not among Survivor's all-time elites, but in a bit of a down season, he put in a dominating performance.

Sandra

On the other side of the coin, Sandra's the poster-child for Survivor promoting mediocrity. She's the only player to win twice and put in wildly forgettable performances both times. The lesson here is that flying under the radar can be effective. Simply making it to the end without pissing anyone off can sometimes be enough. But not usually. Sandra beat Parvati because Parvati underestimated the blowback her alliance with Russel would have. This was one of the few times that having the jury hang out with each other leading up to the final tribal council changed the outcome. There was so much anti-Russel range on that jury that even being associated with him was enough to cost Parvati the game. Sandra's first win wasn't quite as egregious but I think she benefited from a bit of a down season. It was more a circumstances of being on the dominant tribe at the merge and again, not pissing anyone off.

I guess the argument would be that Survivor does not simply reward mediocrity. It's true that flying under the radar and not sticking your neck out is a great way to make it pretty far in the game. But it won't usually win. To win, you have to stick your neck out at the right time. You have to know when's the time to reveal your hand and when to check/fold. And that's how it should be. There shouldn't be guaranteed formula for how to win. The winner should be whoever can take advantage of the unique circumstances of every season the best. Usually, that's what happens. But still, Parvati got robbed.

A quarter inch the other way and you'd have missed completely

There's a great scene in The Mighty Ducks -- well there are a lot of great scenes, it's an awesome movie, but specifically there's a scene where Coach Bombay is talking to Charlie about how close he came to winning a championship when he was a kid.

Coach Bombay: I go in, I triple deke. I fake the goalie right out of his pads.
The puck's headed in, and then, Clang! Hits the post.
We lost in overtime.
A quarter of an inch this way and it would have gone in.
A quarter of an inch, Charlie.
Charlie: Yeah, but a quarter inch the other way and you'd have missed completely.

It's a scene that expresses exactly how I feel about the Sounders game last night. We had our chances, plenty of shots off the crossbar and one or two off the post. Eddie Johnson got taken down in the box on what should could have been called for a penalty kick. Montreal's only goal came off an almost impossible chip over a 6'6'' Michael Gspurning. If you replay those half dozen shots a hundred times, we probably come out ahead more than we come out behind. But on the flip slide, all of those post and cross bar shots were equally close to missing entirely. And Montreal narrowly missed a couple  more goals of their own. If we were a quarter of an inch from winning 2-1, we were also a quarter of an inch from losing 0-3.

Most soccer games come down to a couple crucial plays. It's not enough to almost score, you have to finish the few genuinely good opportunities that come. It's so cliche, but that's the difference between winning and losing. It's almost always just a quarter of an inch here or there.

A 0-1 loss to start the season against an expansion team in their second year, made up of mostly old washed up Italians, is nothing to panic about. But it's something to worry about. At least a little bit. We didn't lose just because Alonso was out and we weren't able to control the midfield. Or because our back line was missing at least two -- potentially three -- from our "ideal eleven". We lost because, as a whole, we played sloppy. Careless and sloppy. Outside of a few impressive moments, we looked uninspired and shockingly mediocre.

I know it's only the first game of the season, but it's not like these guys have been sitting around getting caught up on Downton Abbey all offseason. Eddie and Evans have been playing with the US Men's National Team for weeks, Martinez has been wiping the floor with the US Men's National Team, and all those second-stringers have been winning preseason tournaments. Of course we'd be a little rusty, but not that rusty. Maybe Estrada set our expectations unreasonably high last year after scoring a hat trick on opening day against some other so-so Canadian team. Suffice it to say, I expected more. I think 38,998 of us expected more.

Next week we have an opportunity to redeem ourselves. If we play like this down in Mexico, it'll be an excruciatingly long 90 minutes. But if we play to our potential, or at least somewhere in that range, there's a lot to be optimistic about. If Joe Flacco can win a Super Bowl, anything's possible -- that should be Nike's next ad campaign. Just do it, Flacco did.

Heroes aren't allowed to use asterisks

In college, my summers were defined by running insane amounts of miles and then watching obscene amounts the Tour de France. We'd watch each entire stage as uncut as possible -- not the prime-time coverage geared toward an American audience where they replace the legendary Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen with the Jar Jar Binks-esque comedy relief commentary of Bob Roll. We loved the tour. As cross-country runners I think we found some kinship with another under-appreciated sport that relies more on endurance and pain tolerance than being talented at playing with balls of various shapes and sizes. My first couple summers also happened to be the last of the Armstrong years (not the The Phantom Menance comeback years, but the original "I win everything every time" years).

Even then, we weren't naive. We knew cheating was rampant in sports like running and cycling. I think a part of us always knew that Lance was a cheat, but it was easy enough to bury that thought. To "turn it off, like a light switch". Instead, we chose to be inspired. It was hard not to be. It was an amazing story. A spectacular story of human achievement and triumph against incredible odds. His battles up Alp d'Huez, his ruthless determination in time trials, it was everything that's great about sports. Then you add in the impossible-to-ignore backstory of his battle with cancer and you have something that even Hollywood would scoff at as being wildly unrealistic. Way too good to be true. And I guess that turned out to be the case.

Lance's confession didn't really change anything for me. Maybe it did for some people, but after I heard all the damning evidence that stripped him of his Tour wins and banned him for life from everything except a handful of pumpkin pushes I was firmly in the "Yup, he really did cheat to win all that stuff" crowd. I just wasn't sure how I felt about it all. It was a little more complicated than when someone like Barry Bonds, or Floyd Landis got busted. Lance's victories transcended sports. In some ways he was a super hero. He'd raised millions of dollars in the war against cancer -- surely that's still worth something. And he'd inspired countless cancer patients, families and anyone-with-a-heart. You can't un-inspire people after the fact. Right?

The truth is that I still don't know. Surely some of the things that Lance did, despite the cheating, are still inherently good. But undoubtedly the story is ruined. It was too good to be true. I think we all wanted to believe in Lance because we wanted to believe that through some combination of hard work and perseverance we can all "beat cancer". But that's not reality. The story, that we all wanted so badly to believe, was a lie.

You can say that since everyone was cheating, it was a level playing field and Lance is still a champion. There might even be some truth to it. But it doesn't change the fact that our hero was a cheater, and a liar, and a jerk. The story is ruined. The athletic accomplishments are still impressive. But the story is ruined. Trying to rationalize why we should still admire, respect, or even care about Lance Armstrong is just a symptom of wanting to hold onto a fabrication. It would've been really cool if the Lance saga we all wanted to believe was true. But it's not.

So while the things Lance did on a bike are still unquestionably impressive. And he's still one of the greatest athletes of my lifetime, he's no longer a hero. Heroes aren't allowed to have asterisks next to their accomplishments. Or be ego-maniacal cheating bullies -- that's like rule number one in the hero handbook. My Livestrong band, that I didn't take off for years, not even for my wedding pictures, is now in the garbage. The worst part is thinking about all the careers he's ruined. Anyone who ever questioned his legitimacy was ruthlessly attacked and dragged through the mud. That's the stuff that is truly unforgivable. Lance's lies went beyond just cycling. He destroyed people off the bike in the same way he did in the Alps. And I don't see how anyone can still respect him after that. I certainly don't.

The Fire, explained

If there's one quality I want in my sports heroes, it's The Fire. I mentioned it in my (maybe) slightly over-critical critique of Manning and Fox following the Broncos playoff loss to Baltimore last week. How in the late 90s there was more to John Elway than just quarterback rating and completion percentage. He had The Fire. By it's very nature, I think The Fire can't be explained without seeing it. So here are a few clips that jumped to mind when I was trying to think of times I'd seen it.

1) Eddie Johnson scores vs the Colorado Rapids.

Context: Seattle was on a franchise record, nine game winless streak. We were desperate for a win. After going up 1-0 over Colorado, Johnson had a handful of questionable calls not go his way. It really felt like even the ref was going to do everything he could to keep Johnson from scoring. Yeah, that's a totally homer biased view, but I that's what it felt like in the stadium. In a season where we lost too many coin flips to count -- both figuratively and literally -- it was hard not to wonder if maybe we were going to get screwed yet again. But at the same time Eddie was playing with a inspiring intensity. Our pessimistic view of inevitable disappointment was contradicted by this unshakable feeling that a Johnson goal was inevitable. That nothing was going to stop him. 

Finally in the 64th minute the goal came. With an eff you jersey toss and crazed took on his face, there's no question. He had The Fire. The goal would end up being a game winning one.

2) Chris Wondolowski leads San Jose to an amazing comeback vs Portland
Context: Now, keep in mind these are two of my five most hated teams of any sport. But The Fire of Chris Wondolowski is undeniable here (and most of the season, really). San Jose was down 0-2 vs Portland in the 73rd minute. They'd had a handful of scoring opportunities but just hadn't quite put the ball in the net. After Wondolowski scored in the 73rd minute there seemed to be no way Portland would hold on to the win. I think that inevitability is a key feature of The Fire. Things don't always work out (for instance, Russel Wilson clearly had The Fire on Saturday and a Seattle comeback seemed inevitable, but we all know how that turned out). But seriously, just look at Wondo's body language after that first goal, and again after the second. He was going to do everything humanly possible, and maybe even a more, to bring his team back. I was actually shocked they only managed to tie it, if they'd had a couple extra minutes there's no doubt they would have won 3-2.


3) John Elway "The Dive"
Context: John Elway was 37 years old, 0-3 in the Super Bowl and finally had a chance at getting the monkey off his back in Super Bowl XXXII against the Green Bay Packers. This drive, and this play optimize what I'm talking.  When a player's desire to win overshadows everything else in the game. This was a key 3rd down play during a 92 yard touchdown drive. Elway needed to make the play with his feet and then his whole body as he dove for the first down. What 37 year old quarterback could you imagine doing that? Manning? Never. Maybe Favre toward the end, but odds are he'd opt for the game-ending interception instead. But seriously, just watch this play and look at Elway after he picks up the first down. That's what I'm talking about. I still get goosebumps watching this play.


My point here is that there's more to sports than the stat sheets and you need to see it to understand. That's not to say Tebow will end up being am amazing NFL quarterback because he has all these intangibles that overshadow a complete lack of fundamental talent. No, you need to be talented for sure. But not all goals are created equal. And some eight yard runs are a bigger deal than others. There's a reason sports (and The Bachelor) are the only thing left that's worth watching live. Because to really understand what happened, you need to see it and experience it. Even retrospectively it loses something.

Don't be a candy-ass

There is only one real Favinger house rule: don't be a candy-ass. It came about while we were playing Wits and Wagers (google it) and didn't want people to just sit on a big chip lead and ride it out to a slow but sure win. That's no fun for anyone and it's total candy-assery. So if you come to our place for any kind of board game night, New Years Eve party, or anything else. Remember, don't be a candy-ass.

There's plenty blame to go around for Denver's embarrassing performance against Baltimore yesterday. Manning only did "Manning-Things" for like a drive and a half and threw the back-breaking interception in overtime. Champ Bailey looked old, slow, and even older. Miller and Dumervil were a non-factor the entire game (some credit goes to Baltimore offensive line of course). Really, our entire secondary was absolutely pathetic. How do you give up a hail-mary with under a minute left in the game? That's the one and only thing you should be defending against! If there's ever a reason to play prevent defense it's when Joe Flacco has 55 seconds and no timeouts to go 70 yards for a touchdown. What. The. Hell. Was. Everyone. Thinking?

But that's okay. It happens. It shouldn't ever happen, but I can accept that players have horrible games sometimes (it's just too bad when 75% of the defense has an off day on the same day and that day happens to be the divisional round of the playoffs). So don't get me wrong, I blame all of them. But I also really blame John Fox and Peyton Manning for being candy-asses and breaking my one and only house rule.

With 1:21 left in the second quarter the Broncos faced a 4th and 8 from the Baltimore 34 and attempted and missed a 52 yard field goal. Baltimore took over and quickly marched down the field and set up a 32 yard touchdown pass to Torrey Smith. Under ideal conditions, I can understand trusting Prater with a 52 yard field goal. But when it's freakin' freezing, with a head wind, and a beat up field, why not just attempt a 4th and 8 from there? A conversion gives you a decent shot at setting up a touchdown and at the very least, a much more reasonable field goal. And on a failed 4th down attempt, at least you don't give Baltimore a free 10 yards like they did by botching the field goal. Maybe the numbers say kicking was the best bet. I don't know. But when you're a heavy favorite, playing at home, and Peyton Manning is your quarterback, grow some balls and go for the jugular.

However, the decision that really killed me was the choice run on 3rd and 7 with 2:00 left in the game. Most people disagree with me on this one I think. By running it, you can punt with 1:15 left and Baltimore out of timeouts. All you have to do is stop the big play. But it just felt wrong. It was a lot like something Elway faced in the 1997 playoffs. Similar circumstances, different decision. In the 1997 AFC Championship game, Denver faced a 3rd and 5 from their own 15 with 2:00 left in the game and Pittsburgh out of timeouts. I guess the key difference is that they were only up by three and a punt puts Pittsburgh a handful of completions out of field goal range. But still, a run brings the clock down to 1:15 and forces Kordell Stewart to win the game -- someone who'd already thrown three picks and lost a fumble. Not exactly a Joe Flacco going up against a secondary who'd been getting their asses kicked all day.

But you know what Elway did? He went outside of the playbook, designed a slant to Sharpe and threw a game clinching 18 yard completion. I don't know whether Fox or Manning made the final decision to run the clock rather than go for the win, but it was a candy-ass call. Seven yards wins you the game. Seven yards from victory formation, a couple kneels and a trip to the AFC Championship game. An incompletion gives Flacco an extra 40 seconds... so what? I'd think with one of the best quarterbacks to ever play the game, you'd have enough confidence to gain seven yards and seal the win. That's what John Elway did. And that's why Elway really is one of the best to ever play the game. The stat sheets don't show the fire: not just the willingness to takes risks, but the confidence that you can make the play and win you the game. Elway played to win. Manning and Fox played to not lose. There's more than a semantic difference there.

I re-watched Super Bowls XXXII and XXXIII last week. Old-Manning is a better pure passer than Old-Elway. There's no question about that. But Old-Elway had the fire that was completely absent from Old-Manning and candy-ass Fox yesterday. He was a man on a mission during those final two years. It's one of those things that you have to see to understand. It's why people are saying Manning chokes in the playoffs. Not because he's somehow responsible for the Denver defense giving up four million points to a shitty quarterback. But because he didn't do the things that you'd expect a first ballot hall of famer to do. Things like converting a 3rd and 7 to win a game. Or even trying to.