by: Joe-Joe

I don’t know where to begin. It seems like just yesterday I was parading around all the bars in Tribeca (at least the ones that would have us) on a hot summer evening with rest of the clowns. With my feet securely wrapped in bags of plastic, I was inspired by visions of untold fortunes at the hands of two of the worst teams the NFL has to offer. And here it is, a full NFL regular season has played itself out and I was thisclose to being the first rookie in the history of Bagdom to win it all. I certainly won my fair share of write-ups (seven counting this one), but much like being Vice-President in a game of Asshole, being runner-up still makes you an all-out biatch. Only in the bag bet, there is no cheating your way up to President. There are no wild cards to pretend you don’t have; no hidden crevices to hide all the shitty cards that keep you fetching beers and taking verbal abuse; and there is no one drunk enough to not realize that you dealt them a bogus hand while they were watering the proverbial plants.

So to my fellow bag participants: It has been an honor participating in your noble antics and I will succumb to my fate with dignity. Congratulations to Randie on successfully defending his crown. Just like the big smelly guy on the subway platform with a finger two-knuckles deep into his nostril, he knows he can pick a winner.

Randie (18-14)

Green Bay 26 Chicago 7
This is the game that killed me. By the time I arrived at Herr Herold’s place on New Year’s Eve, (after walking 8 extra blocks due to the closure of the 49th street subway station and talking my way past the NYPD who blocked off his street), the unthinkable had happened: the 49ers pulled out a victory in Denver, and Jeff Garcia had successfully navigated the surging Eagles past the Falcons. All I needed to take my place on the throne was for the Bears to beat the Packers! Unfortunately, the Bears weren’t playing for anything and this didn’t bode well for my prospects at bag royalty. When I saw Brett Favre smile after leading the Packers to a 16-0 lead early in the second quarter, it was as if he was smiling at me – letting me know he had read my smack talking in Week 9 and that he would unleash his revenge.

Shortly after that, I stopped paying attention. Not because the game wasn’t interesting or because I gave up hope, mind you, it’s just that after a couple of speed shots off Lenny’s dazzling lazy-susan liquor contraption, the call of the twin sirens Guitar Hero and DDR were too much to resist. If there is one thing I am good at, it’s making a fool of myself, and I rarely pass up an opportunity to flaunt my fool-making ability.

In any event, I am contemplating putting a Green #4 in the Wonder Bread bag that I’m going to have to wear on my hand during the payoff, in the hopes it is some kind of sacrilegious voodoo. Take note, Mr. Favre: Should you find your hand sweating profusely and reeking of limburger cheese while you are busy playing horseshoes and eating crawfish at home in the Louisiana bayou this summer, you’ll know I’m enacting my revenge. (Then again, if you are eating crawfish and playing horseshoes in the Louisiana bayou, there is a good chance your hand will be greasy and stinky anyway. Sigh.)

Oakland 3 Jets 23 ***Bag Game***
Two of the worst groups of fans in the Western Hemisphere, in my opinion. I’d rather watch a taping of Rosie O’Donnell than have to listen to some of the horse-shit that comes out of the pie-holes sitting in the stands at this game. I only wish Oakland had won. I cringe at the thought of the absolute nonsense that will be spewed on the local sports shows about how “good” this Jets team is. I’m sure Fitzy will be glued to a TV come next weekend, hoping the Jets don’t land a lucky haymaker and knock the Pats out of the playoffs. Who will win? Obi Wan Belichick, or his rebel son Darth Mangini?

Joe (17-15)

I have to admit I didn’t watch a lot of football last Sunday; I needed to win one more game than Randie in order to be crowned Overlord, and with San Fran playing Denver and the Jets getting a guaranteed “W” against the Raiders, I didn’t have much hope. Not to mention, I spent most of the day watching a “Man vs. Wild” marathon on the Discovery channel after getting sucked in at like 10:00 A.M. If you haven’t seen it, you should. Dude…eats…live…snakes. And like every 9 year-old wishes they could, he actually killed a rabbit by throwing a stick at it. He then peeled its skin off like a glove, cooked it over a fire, and enjoyed eating its nutritious little carcass.

As a result of my second place finish, I have to wear a 49ers jersey and carry a football around all night. If anyone manages to knock it from my clutches, I am to buy a shot of that person’s choosing and either drink it or give it to them. I am assuming the Overlord will make me wear the “late-write-up-penalty” Wonder Bread bag on my drinking hand. That will suck.

Atlanta 17 Philly 23
The Eagles, Jets, and Saints all went from division doormat to playoff participant in one season. While the Jets can chalk part of it up to their new coach, and the Saints can chalk some up to goodwill/league shenanigans/national pity, the Eagles relied on Jeff Garcia (10 TDs 2 INTs) in winning 5 of 6 games filling in for McNabb. They’ll play the Giants in the first round (ug BOTH crappy NY teams are in the playoffs), and look to go 2-1 against the cause of more than one of Mike Francesa’s wet dreams. (Aside: I’ll bet you $100 Francesa has a poster of Derek Jeter on the ceiling above his bed.)

San Francisco 26 Denver 23
I can’t talk bad about a team that goes from being the preseason consensus worst overall team to a team with enough chutzpa to knock out a playoff contender in OT and finish with a respectable 7-9 record. Frank Gore gets a game ball from me for his performance this year: 1,695 yards, 5.4 yards per carry, and 8 TDs.

Shawn (14-18)

To the casual observer, these were two completely meaningless games. But such is the beauty of the bag bet because to Shawn they offered a final – albeit slim – hope of keeping off the dreaded face paint. Tsk, tsk, tsk. I understand there are drinking establishments in this town that don’t turn on the A/C, even on the hottest, muggiest, wretchedly odiferous summer nights. It’s enough to make greasy, dog-poop brown face paint melt down your cheeks like so much mascara from a crying hooker – if you happen to be wearing it. Yeesh! I’m glad it’s not me! Unlike a prostitute, Shawn won’t be able to fantasize about Richard Gere sweeping him up and turning him into a legitimate woman. He’ll have to turn his tricks, pay his pimp, and take his beating. My bet is that the humiliation of the face paint - coupled with a few shots of some truly vile concoctions - will cause Angry Shawn to come out. I will have to hold my ball tightly, and use my bag/drinking hand to guard against any errant fists-to-the-nits.

Carolina 31 New Orleans 21
With no playoff implications to speak of, the Saints start some scrubby 12-year NFL veteran from Weber State named Jamie Martin. While not on anyone’s fantasy football radar, I’m pretty sure this guy gets more chicks than he can handle.

The combination of Drew Brees and Reggie Bush will keep the Saints out of the bag bet for years to come. Not to mention, the NFC south is a weak-ass division.

Cleveland 6 Houston 14 ***Bag Game***

With no QB, RB, or WR to speak of, Cleveland will assuredly be in the bag bet for years to come.

Leonard (8-24)

It was a tough year for Lenny, but when one of your teams goes 2-14, there’s not a hell of a lot that can change your fortune. The fact that it is his favorite team AND he willfully drafted them only adds to the sorrow (or shadenfreud, depending on your disposition). I did hear drunken musings of him having to wear the bag on the OUTSIDE of his clothes. I recall he was a champ several years ago when he donned the face-paint and went so far as to voluntarily get a pedicure complete with matching red toe-nails. Upon seeing his painted face, some guy walking past us at Third and Long shouted out, “Go Devils!” Sporting, indeed!

Cleveland 6 Houston 14 ***Bag Game***
Something tells me avoiding these teams will increase my chances to victory in 2007.

Oakland 3 Jets 23 ***Bag Game***
Leo earns a merit badge for going to the game and returning in time to host a full-blown NYE party. Rumor has it that Gator Dave was seen at the game yelling incoherently to anyone that would listen about the Raiders not using their first draft pick on Brady Quinn and how the Irish tradition was hollow and without merit. Yeah, I think he fit right in.

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Well bag lovers, it's been fun hanging with you but it’s time for me to call it a season – I look forward to partying with you during the payoff.

Posted by Joe-Joe at 9:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)