Sunday, October 30, 2011

And . . . Exhale






Well, that was certainly emphatic.

After the last couple of weeks of Hold Me Closer Tiny Dancer and me gibbering on about hangings, ether rags and Col. Kurtz, I felt like I needed to see something . . . specific. It wasn’t just that I needed to see the Lions win, I needed to see them engage in the sort of wholesale slaughter that would make Pol Pot blush. Had they won 17-10, I’d probably still be sitting here fretting and pulling at my hair and writing love poems to the Grim Reaper, but they didn’t win 17-10, they won 45-10 and honestly the game was nowhere near that close.

After a first Broncos drive that had my eyes wandering towards the place under the sink where I keep my Vintage ’68 Drano and my brain wandering towards a life in the forest spent eating bark, fucking deer and building a nest somewhere in the upper reaches of the trees, it was all candy, sunshine and blowjobs (not deer blowjobs, ‘cuz that would be fucked up and painful. Or at least I imagine they would be. What? Why is everybody looking at me like that? That deer thought it was a carrot, I swear! No, that doesn’t explain why my pants were off, but I don’t have to answer to anyone but my own conscience and that deer’s father. That motherfucker was pissed. I’ve never run so fast in all my life, and . . . wait, where am I? What’s going on?) Honestly, the final score of that game could have been 62-3 or better yet, it could have just been depicted with an image of a clown being tortured and then eaten by 16 foot tall aliens, the clown of course being Tim Tebow and the 16 foot tall aliens being the Lions defense.

That is a weird and grotesque image but let’s face it, this was a weird and grotesque game – for the Broncos anyway. For us it was a beautiful gift, the sort of laughter inducing heaven-sent answer to our most desperate fan prayers. We didn’t just want to watch a game like this, we needed to watch a game like this. We needed to see the Lions beat the shit out of Tim Tebow and then relentlessly mock him simply because they could. We needed to see the Lions not just be the better team but make the other team look so embarrassingly helpless that I’m pretty sure that even a gang of retarded Somalis so starved that they look like weird aliens watched this game and said “Goddamn, I’m glad we’re not those guys.” Don’t ask me how those Somalis were watching the game. Let’s just assume that Sally Struthers carries a portable TV around with her and move on, okay?

Obviously, I have descended into inappropriate weirdness but that is just because I am giddy, like I am hopped up on goofballs or something. I feel weird and inappropriate because that’s how loose I feel. I don’t feel the unbearable weight of the oppression of a half-century of failure. I don’t feel Fate closing in on me, its rank, hot breath whispering terrible things in my ear as it prepares to devour my soul. No, for once, I just feel a loose and vaguely stupid sort of freedom and in this freedom my mind is bouncing around from one weird thing to the next, laughing like a retarded blind kid who possesses some strange secret which makes everything in the world melt away other than . . . than . . . happiness is not the right word for it. It’s more like an unburdened ease, a freedom which is hard to describe.

I am getting carried away, but so what? My Lions absolutely eviscerated the Broncos, and any niggling concerns that I might have are like so many willowy reeds blown apart in a nuclear blast. The Lions victory was so total, so absolute, so inarguable, that there really isn’t anything substantive left to say. All I am left with are the gibbering delusions of my own strange brain, set free by the giant flaming sword which was that game swinging down and severing all of the terrible binds tethering me to my own worries and fears as a Lions fan. I mean, after all, this was a road game, something that the Lions couldn’t win for literally years, and the Lions not only won they made the other team look utterly incompetent, like a gang of winos pissing themselves in the midst of a dumpster fire. For fuck’s sake, even Drew Stanton was embarrassed for Tim Tebow.

This was a game that after the first few minutes was refreshingly devoid of pathos, a game which both spoke a larger truth and obliterated even the need for that truth to even be uttered. It said that the Lions really were a damn good football team but the game was so out of hand, that truth so evident, that it no longer even needed to be said. By the end, it was a given, and that’s the heart of this whole damn thing right there.

Indeed, by the time Chris Houston danced his way into the endzone – hell, it feels like it was even eons before that play – the Lions had nothing left to prove to themselves or to the Broncos. It was like watching a troop of United States Marines invade a country defended only by a blind drunk with no legs and a syphilitic goat. Yes, this is probably the only time that Tim Tebow will be compared to a syphilitic goat, but what the hell, you know? I had planned on comparing him to Drew Stanton, but honestly that shit isn’t fair to Drew Stanton. Really, it’s not that fair to the syphilitic goat.

Am I out of hand here? Absolutely. Do I care? Not at all. Because all of the building worry, all of the encroaching terror, all of the venomous whispers of The Fear, were sucked into a black hole and banished to another dimension thanks to this game. Will all of that return at some point? Of course it will. Fandom is completely ridiculous by its very nature, bipolar and schizophrenic and two weeks from now I might be yammering like a lunatic about shit bombs and werewolves eating my pants, but none of that matters right now. Right now all that matters is that my Lions crucified the Tebow child and there will be no resurrection. Is that an offensive thing to say? Yeah, but so what? I am offended by Tebow’s pretentions, or perhaps I am offended by the media’s pretensions. I don’t know. All I know is that I feel a certain sort of manic glee that a simple truth was revealed by this game: Tim Tebow is a terrible quarterback. You strip everything else away, and that’s what’s left. He sucks. The end.

And really, that was the beauty of this game. It was a game of simple truths, of absolutes, a game which left my brain nowhere to go but up, up, up. The Lions were a good football team, the Broncos were not. Matthew Stafford was a real quarterback, Tim Tebow was not. The Lions defense was ferocious and cruel and mocking and everything you want a defense to be and the Denver Broncos defense was not. Those are absolutes, simple truths that leave no room for debate, no room for niggling fears and dumb, shameful worries.

Are there little things to bitch about? Yeah, but that’s just because there always are. Actually articulating them right now would be an exercise in bad taste. There is no point because for the moment, they have been made utterly irrelevant, petty, small, stupid things not worth even our time or brainwaves. Bitching about them right now would feel like choosing to drink out of a toilet bowl when you have a giant jug of wine in your hand. It would just be senseless and vaguely obscene.

The Lions are 6-2 and they got that sixth win in a way that is going to make this bye-week feel absolutely beautiful. There is little more that I can say beyond that because the simplicity of this game’s meaning is so self-evident. In fact, I have probably gibbered on for a thousand words more than I needed to. In the end, this is all that matters: the Lions kicked the absolute shit out of the Broncos and the worries of the past couple of weeks now feel like a fading memory. Really, coming into this game that’s all I wanted and, well, that’s what I got. And there you go.

14 comments:

Whiouxsie said...

That image started making the rounds of the internet early on in the afternoon game time slot. I'm glad you put it for this post, since the first time I saw it I thought "this will make a great photo header for Neil's game recap".

Neil said...

Yeah, I actually had something else up there but then I saw that and immediately hit the edit button.

Whiouxsie said...

I have heard that the rest of the game was full of comparable parody of Tebow gestures by the Lions D, which I hope is true.

Neil said...

Yeah, the Lions were being dicks throughout much of the game which I give my heartiest of blessings. Tony Scheffler managed to both mock Tebow AND do the Mile High Salute after he scored. It was awesome.

Whiouxsie said...

See, I like that about the Lions, especially the D. They are willing to be dicks and are taking to the role. And of course the punditoids like to criticize Suh for being a little too physical and such but hey, I'm not necessarily going to get down on a guy for taking a Personal Foul just to put the hurt/intimidation on an opponent every once in a while, you know?

I mean, I have a soft spot for the Raiders and adore the old Madden-era Raider Mythos, so any time a modern NFL team wants to channel that spirit is fine with me. It's nice change of pace from Corporate, sponsor safe Protecten Sie Das Shield style most teams exude.

Plus, it's Swagger, and good teams have Swagger. More to the point they don't let a short losing streak take their Swagger away. They find someone to smack around and get things going right again, like the Lions did today.

Neil said...

Yeah, I saw someone earlier today complaining about the Lions, and he compared them to the Raiders, meaning it negatively, and I just thought fuck yeah. I love that shit. Unless someone does it to my team, then fuck them, but that is the fickle nature of fandom in these strange and terrible times.

Also, yeah, I think you hit upon it better than I did, dearest Whiouxsie re: Swagger and good teams demolishing helpless fools to get back on track. This game was a fucking prime example of that and I think that's why it left me in such a good mood.

Bubbalouuey said...

It's hard to top a good old fashioned ass whipping.

JP said...

The moral of the story is that tangibles beat intangibles, evil defeats good(BTW, fuck you NFL.com for pandering to the Tebow fanboys), and a good old fashioned ass whuppin is more enjoyable for me to watch than the last second comebacks.

Also, I was glad to see Stafford look to be close to 100% on the ankle and knee, as I was concerned going into the game that he might not be.

Oh, and Hail to the Victors! What a difference a week makes.

Neil said...

"It's hard to top a good old fashioned ass whipping."

Yes. Yes,this is a thing that is so, so true.

Neil said...

"The moral of the story is that tangibles beat intangibles, evil defeats good(BTW, fuck you NFL.com for pandering to the Tebow fanboys), and a good old fashioned ass whuppin is more enjoyable for me to watch than the last second comebacks.

Also, I was glad to see Stafford look to be close to 100% on the ankle and knee, as I was concerned going into the game that he might not be.

Oh, and Hail to the Victors! What a difference a week makes."

And there you have it everybody.

Jens said...

as glad as i am that you were able to feel that way, my feelings were totally strange, from the beginning of the game, i wanted them to do just one thing, kill tebow...and while doing it, all i was able to think was, ok, cool, and then i even thougt, wow, we're totally emberassing someone, and i'm not happy? and you know what, as cool as it would have been to feel the immediate joy, to now look at it and knowing that i can expect the lions to kill tebow, and then come through, might be even better
- i don't know if anything i just said makes any sense, or has any point, but if it makes sense anywhere, it's here and it's because we're lions fans

Neil said...

No, it makes sense. It makes sense because I could feel that tugging at me too, but I ignored it and embraced giddy joy. Probably too much, in fact, which is kind of telling. I think my post stands as a testament to that sort of overcompensation. But I think I addressed at least the hint of that in the post too when I talked about how there were still things to worry about but about how I just wasn't gonna do it right now. So, yeah, I hear you, Jens. I hear you.

Anonymous said...

Stafford got his mojo back and the O-Line opened running lanes. Of course, it was against one of the worst teams in the league, but anybody can beat anybody on any given Sunday, as they say (see New Orleans vs. St. Louis yesterday).

I think we will beat Chicago in Chicago, but it will be an UGLY game. Lots of flags, lots of grown men weeping when it's all done. Cutler will be bloody by the end.

On another note, the Colts are half-way to 0-16! (I won't mention Miami, as they are too good to lose all 16 games). I wish Manning the best in his recovery, but it would be nice if he does us a favour, stays out the entire season, and let's the Colts reach for that most Glorious of Brass Rings!

Lord Anonymous

Neil said...

Yeah, it was big to not have every second down play be, like, 2nd and 11 or 2nd and 9. Still iffy on some of Stafford's general jitteryness but all in all a pretty encouraging performance given the injured ankle/road environment. Also, Mo Morris was solid at RB. There were actually moments where I thought "Man, I kinda wish they would have run it there," which I can't remember thinking in a long time, which is a good thing and I suspect it goes hand in hand with Stafford looking better.