By F. Shawn Fitzgerald

After my crushing failure last year, I donned the plastic and was re-baptized in my own sweat and a concoction of Guinness, red wine, vodka, grapefruit juice, whiskey and Bud Full Flavor. Had I known that Crane was performing baptisms during his formative years, I would’ve asked for some pointers. Sadly, this never came up in our everyday conversations. It took the perfect storm of a 2 hour FREE open bar, vehicular homicide, a performance of Spamalot, a bucket of PBR cans, a discussion on parental beatings, Misfits, Metallica, and me drinking out of a pitcher to stumble across this info. I was so flabbergasted by this development I was forced to baptize the side of a Lexus truck on 20th street with piss on my way back to my 25 minute wait on the N platform. If only Crane could’ve cleansed me in the waters of Lake Minnetonka…that would’ve been so much easier than stumbling around the lower west side dripping sweat from my balls and getting pulled in multiple directions as every douche bag from the Battery to Inwood had a tug on my bag strings. Apparently timing IS everything my friends!

As you digest Crane’s war against those bearing the “Number of the Beast”, say a short prayer for the closing of the Continental and the impending end of CBGB. To Trigger and Hilly, I owe many thanks for all of the cloudy nights of metal and punk that saw me through the late 90s. To me, they owe many brain cells that I destroyed in both clubs, as well as new eardrums.

But I digress. It is a brand new year with some new blood. Young Joe-Joe Wizzo has endured his bread bag hazing ritual without contracting any fungal disease under his toenails and has been dutifully added to the roster. My cousin “Callin’ All Cocks” has been sent to the bench for insubordination. There he ponders what might have been, as he discusses the merits of zip-lock 1 quart bags over folding sandwich bags, remembering his days in the big leagues and practicing his “I could a been a contendaaaaahhhh!!!” speech. Your friendly neighborhood baggers Lenny and Randie have placed their pride on the altar of plastic for another season. As always, I am more than prepared to embarrass myself for the benefit of the football gods and you, my imbibing friends. I am currently in 2nd place behind the Rookie, but I took the week on points. So without further ado, let’s find out “FOR WHOM THE BAG TOLLS!”

Joe-Joe (2-2, PF: 95, PA: 87, TDs: 11)

Philadelphia Eagles 24 vs. New York Giants 30

If you can’t get excited about a game that begins with the Eagles kicker David Akers taking a flying leap at a Giants coach and then taking on the entire Giants Bench, I don’t want to know you. It seems young Master Akers fancies himself a master of Rex-Kwon-Do! Check him out in this you tube clip, complete with American Flag shoulder pad (don’t shut it off early, you wouldn’t want to miss the nunchucks!). I'm sure Stalra is very proud. Unforunately, the Giants do not bear any resemblance to Kip or Napoleon. He should’ve been out there to protect Jevon Kearse. Sadly for Joe-Joe the Freak has been put on the shelf for the year with ligament damage in his knee. I’m sure Eli’s pride was hurting almost as much as Kearse’s knee after last weeks beating at the hands of Peyton and the Colts. The loss rekindled nightmare’s about all of those times Peyton showed up while he was playing Super Mario Brothers 2 with his friends and threw him on the ground, bending his arm behind his back until he screamed “UNCLE!”, all at once humiliating him and ruing any chance of beating Bowser outside of his castle on level 8-4. Bad Times. Eli channeled that crushing humiliation into this game and dismantled the Eagles in the 4th quarter and OT with 23 unanswered points. I’m sure he’ll still have to sit at the kids table at Thanksgiving and Peyton will throw him on the ground getting grass stains on his “Dress Up Jeans” during the annual football game, but for his performance this week he gets the “Die with Your Boots On” award. In the immortal words of some fat English guy at 3rd and Long on Sunday:

New York Giants! N-Y-G!
We don’t give a Fuck,
Who you may be,
Cuz we are the Mighty N-Y-G!

San Francisco 49ers 20 vs. St. Louis Rams 13

While walking the streets of St. Louis young Joe-Joe took his life in his hands by wearing his Mets cap and holding his finger in the air, cheering the unlikely 49er victory. This was not looked upon kindly by the natives eating their toasted ravioli and chugging all things Anheuser Busch. Perhaps they took him for one of “those guys” from San Francisco and decided the sexual discrimination charge on top of an old skool assault booking was not worth the blood on their shoes. So Joe-Joe wandered safely, celebrating the victory of the former Ute Alex Smith and dreaming of bag glory.

Shawn (2-2, PF: 84, PA: 94, TDs: 9)

New Orleans Saints 34 vs. Green Bay Packers 27 ***BAG GAME***

All right, so Reggie Bush is not lighting the world on fire. He’s still being called ”Jesus in Cleats” in New Orleans. I’m not a big conspiracy theory guy, but I feel I must speak out. Obviously, there was some serious collusion going on at the NFL draft. I’m sure the Texans were promised many behind the scenes advantages to take Mario Williams and allow Reggie Bush to slip to the storm ravaged Gulf Coast. While providing hope to a region, they stock a team that could possibly move to LA with a SoCal star. Not Buying? Well, ask me about the “Price is Right” some day and I’ll blow your mind (Bob barker is the Cigarette Smoking Man!). Drew Brees put his noodle arm to work for 353 yards and out gunned Grandpa Favre. The Deuce blew up the Pack D for 2 TDs and the ‘Aints are now an improbable 2-0. The hurricane’s will taste sweeter this week in the French Quarter and gunfire at night will be kept to a minimum.

Cleveland Browns 17 vs. Cincinnati Bengals 34

The Browns have no offense to mention, yet they somehow put up 17 on the Bengals D. I think this had something to do with Karma being a bitch. Hank Geather’s tried to decapitate Trent Green last week and left him lying motionless on the ground, setting the balance of the universe on it’s ear. The only way to right the ship this week was to have Bengals dropping like flies. Some how the doughy Browns kept denting the impenetrable steel of Cinci. The sidelines began looking like a French church during WWII. Bodies everywhere, blood, bandages, screaming…the works! With the world back in cosmic order, the Browns will go back to being the lifeless stiffs they are supposed to be. They will walk to work with lunch pails in hand. They will punch the clock. They will collect the check. They will drink warm Schlitz in their back yards. They will beat their kids. Life will be grand.

Randie (1-3, PF: 67, PA: 100, TDs: 8 )

New Orleans Saints 34 vs. Green Bay Packers 27 ***BAG GAME***

In a game where Favre rekindled his old spark (340 yds, 3 TDs, 1 INT), it was still not enough to bring the “W” back to the home of Brats and beer. It seems that Favre’s deal with the devil has come due. Regardless of how well he plays he will always lose. In the last few years, Bret has seen his game go to hell, his brother in law killed on his farm in an ATV accident, his wife contract breast cancer, and his childhood home washed away in a hurricane. That certainly sounds like a “crossroads deal” come due to me. I hope the years of Madden fawning over you and everyone treating you like the king of the NFL was worth it. Call Ralph Macchio and ask how he got his soul back after beating Steve Vai in the "shred off" contest. Maybe there’s still time. Speaking of Ralph Macchio, I can only hope he was forced to perform the “Crane Kick” in Beer League. If it’s not in that movie, someone should get fired.

New York Jets 17 vs. New England Patriots 24

In a shaky game where the Jets mounted a furious come back, I like to think that I sealed the deal for the Pats. As they began to waiver, I saw a vision out the window of 3rd and Long. A like minded individual was returning from a rousing weekend of drinking and stupidity. In his hand he held a 3 foot funnel. I knew I had to save the game. With lightning quick reflexes (for someone that had already been drinking for 5+ hours) I ran to the window and asked him for the funnel. Without a word he handed it to me. I poured in my beer and raised the glorious red vessel. As I finished I blew out the foam and belted out a few notes to lead the Pats to victory. And lead them I did. The Jets were stopped and Corey Dillon ran out the clock. The mighty power of the FUNNEL! Randie, you owe me one.

Herr Leonard Herold (0-4, PF: 40 , PA: 122, TDs: 4 )

Houston Texans 24 vs. Indianapolis Colts 34

Houston, where ineptitude comes to reproduce and live in splendor. The Mario Williams over Reggie Bush draft will go down as the Bowie over MJ of the 2000’s or “oughts” (we’re more than half way through this friggin’ decade and no one has come up with a definitive term for it yet, I guess we’re just waiting for it to be over and hit the teens?). As bumbling as the Texans have ever been, the Colts came in and pounded them into dust, allowing some late game garbage points when the starters had been sipping Gatorade for over an hour and picking out the chick with the biggest cans in section 114. Maybe they were were promised the move to LA if they tanked another season? Only time will tell. But with David Carr getting sacked on the first play of the game, then fumbling the ball on the second snap at his own 16, you have to begin to wonder. Lenny stares at the ground and begins contemplating which color drawing string he wants during the payoff…

Oakland Raiders 6 vs. Baltimore Ravens 28

one after one by the star dogged moon,
Too quick for groan or sigh
Each turned his face with a ghastly pang
And cursed me with his eye
Four times fifty living men
(and I heard nor sigh nor groan)
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropped down one by one.

Ladies and Gentlemen, your 2006-2007 Oakland Raiders! The offense has yet to score a touch down. The starting QB is out with a shoulder injury. The coach hasn’t said a word since July 23rd. Randie Moss’ afro has tenants and the Black Hole is starting to become a joke (not that 35 year old men in face paint and shoulder pads with spikes has ever been taken seriously, not even at a Gwar show). Lenny has been seen self medicating around the city. Reports are of Lenny staggering from one dive bar to the next, consuming brown fluids, yammering about Gannon, Tim Brown and on rare occasions Bo Jackson, have been accumulating. There has also been a sighting of Lenny weeping as he plays as video Bo on Techmo Bowl and whimpers “Why, why did you destroy your hip…” before blubbering and making another cocktail. Sad times for Herr Leonard and Raider Nation. Possible Suggestion: Burn the Gallery jersey I gave you. Perhaps it’s cursed. At any rate, I award Lenny the “Wasted Years” award for his dedication to agony.

Until next week!