Jets and Saints smackdown this weekend is giving me all kinds of anxiety. I’m not saying I need a Xanax or anything, but well, I kind of do. Then I picked up the Post, and I took one.
http://www.nypost.com/p/sports/jets/jets_must_clamp_down_on_saints_qb_SImArtH9Xw7aiP30iRGbCK
Week 3, people! You know the drill: we make our picks, and also invite a 6-year-old girl, a dog, and an ESPN expert to weigh in alongside us. (At the end of the season, this highly scientific study will prove who is the best football genius.)
Our picks for tonight’s Panthers @ Cowboys Palace extravaganza:
FIMB B. picks Cowboys. Ewww.
FIMB R. picks Panthers. (Praying Delhomme does not think it’s his birthday today, causing him to throw as many interceptions as years on this earth, as he did last season.)
Dog picks Panthers.
ESPN’s Mark Schlereth picks Cowboys. (Probably just to spite T.O.)
Little M picks Cowboys (winning 21-15, as a matter of fact.)
Here’s how we’re doing so far, by the way:
(there were two MNF games in week one, remember?)
Little M: 3
ESPN Expert: 3
FIMB R.: 2
FIMB B.: 1
Dog: 0 (She makes her picks, in case you were wondering, by choosing from two toys, to which we randomly assign one of the MNF teams.) So far, we think our standings prove that Little M deserves a seat on Monday Night Countdown. Just not next to Me-Shawn.
There I was, bleary-eyed, watching College Football coverage on ESPN, wishing it was Sunday and I was watching NFL Countdown instead, kinda hungry but not knowing what I wanted for breakfast. Then, the Universe spoke to me via the medium of an IHOP commercial. Stuffed French Toast in the shape of a football! Have I found a new Sunday morning ritual? Totes. If I want to turn into Rex Ryan.
—R.
So it’s week 3 and the Brooklyn weather is making it really feel like football season, sunny and cool, and we sense the scent of Buffalo wings…but we digress.
FIRST UP: Today’s game. The Northwestern Wildcats. It’s been nearly 15 years since their Cinderella season, and not much has changed. Last week’s final-seconds loss to Syracuse had me scratching my head. At 2-1 things aren’t that bleak, but they’re facing down Minnesota, hot off nearly upsetting #8 Cal last Saturday. The GG’s may have lost, but they looked really strong. The Cats did not look that good is all I’m saying. So come noon time I will be watching with all the nerves, anxiety, TV screaming and swearing that makes being a Cardiac Cats fan worth while. I just long for another championship season. So Go Cats!
The unfortunately-coiffed, yet all-but-certain MVP, Drew Brees is making New Oleans my pick of the week. This man’s numbers are astounding, and he represents a city who could use more than a playoff team, if you know what I mean.
Darrelle Revis of the Jets is my new reason to absolutely love them. I’m picking the Jets, too, but Tennessee does make me a bit nervy, even they are 0-2.
Also picking Giants, duh.
And thanks to Peter King at SI for pointing out the “most compelling” game of the week, 49ers at Vikings, featuring the only two 2-0 teams to play each other on Sunday. My pick? Singletary and the Niners. Sounds like a 60s doo-wop group, I know, but don’t that reduce the strength of the message.
—B.
We met this dude on Monday night. He wasn’t exactly smiling like this, but that’s OK. Let’s just say that Mr. Simms has that “dark” sense of humor. We were thoroughly entertained by his rants… I mean, insight into things such as the Wildcat formation, Mark Sanchez, Jon Gruden (cough, cough), how good it feels to be on the football field, and Boomer Esiason’s waistline.
B. may be able to elaborate, because she talked his ear off—in the most charming way possible—while I was transfixed by the massive screen and all the other little screens and the beer and the wings and the stats tickers and the TV SCREENS IN THE BATHROOMS at ESPN Zone.
Besides, Mr. Sims did say something about “off the record”. Right after asking, “there’s no media in here, right?” See. Dark humor.
We were lucky enough to meet the Super Bowl XXI MVP (did you forget? don’t worry, Sims will remind you), due to the generosity of Aetrex, who invited us all to watch the Miami-Colts game after we took our shoes off in front of each other to get them scanned. (We all favor our right feet, by the looks of the tech.)
We snagged some copper socks (buh-bye, fungus!), the truth about our shoe size (everyone’s wearing the wrong one, as they do with bras. Just ask that other Boomer), and a mini football signed by none other than … YES! S.B. XXI MVP.
B. and I even had him sign our balls (heh) for other people. Because we’re nice like that.
—R.
I just woke up sad that I have to wait 4 days for Sunday. How to fill my time? —B., from my bed in Brooklyn
I know you can’t see this properly, but DUDE I am in the stall in the Ladies at ESPN Zone and there is a TV screen for me to watch the game while on the loo. Holy crap! — R.
B. meets Phil Sims, who tells her that he picked Mark Sanchez to go at least second if not first in the draft while watching him work out during his USC tenure. And then she bored him about Northwestern.
