I was in Las Vegas this weekend. This is no place to watch football, Las Vegas. There is no professional football team here, only professional gamblers who watch the games for their own person gain. It is a soulless city completely without loyalty to anything but the almighty coin. The hearts here pump nothing but cold blood between hot cigarettes and exhausting walks to the cashier window. What do they care about the The Steelers? If they picked the 'over' - they won. If they picked The Falcons and the spread, they won. If they bet that The Steelers would have more turnovers than a bakery, they won. They smile, and they giggle to themselves, and they eat gigantic meals at the casino buffet, and they move on. And there I sat post game in my #7 jersey wondering how the Steelers could ever recover from this game - a game I'd called a "must win " - and this ugly 2-4 start. Why did Coach Cowher leave time-outs on the field when we had the ball with a half a minute left in the first half? Why does Santonio Holmes seem to resent actually having to hold onto the football while he's running? Why did Willie Parker run backwards and the hand the ball so politely to a Falcon?
And what about Big Ben? As Ben lay on the ground unconscious, I found myself angrily responding to the peanut gallery. "I guess Ben shouldn't be riding without a helmet," one said. Well, I guess your Dad shouldn't have had sex without a condom. "Oh, this figures, Ben almost killed himself on his motorcycle." Yeah, well good thing he had his Super Bowl ring on to take the brunt of the blow. It saved his life! ...I'm not proud of myself. I was like a possum by the garbage cans with a flashlight in my face.
It certainly was scary as Ben was flat on his back, motionless, and they were flashing three fingers in front of his face saying, "Ben, how many fumbles have we lost so far?" And he quietly mumbled, "Three, I think, unless we also fumbled on this play, then it would be four, I think." "No," the team doctors said, "we didn't fumble. Hines dropped the pass." "Oh!!!" Ben yelped and fell back into his dreamy sleep where The Steelers never lose. I too found myself fallen on the floor in semi-consciousness at the end of OT - my friends waving four fingers in my face saying, "Richard, come back, look at my hand. How many losses do The Steelers have this season?" And I quietly mumbled, "Too many... truly an insurmountable mountain of losses so high that God couldn't get to the other side with a team of Sherpas and a case of Monster Energy Drink." "That's right," my friends answered in relief. "I think he's going to be okay."
As winter approaches, The Steelers certainly need to turn it around. They're this close to becoming The Donner Party of the NFL.
Reports are that Ben isn't as injured at it looked after the double helmet-to-helmet non-penalty-call hit that knocked him out for 5 minutes. He may not play this Sunday against The Haters, and he probably shouldn't, but CB will do fine. The rest of the team, who knows - they need discipline. In fact, this reminds me of a time in high school when my swim coach threatened to bench every guy on the team except one for the next meet. It may be time for Coach Cowher to throw some spit. Bench every damned player except Charlie Batch (24 of 39, 5TD's, 0 INT's). It may be a bit rough on Charlie during defense, but Cowher needs to make a statement.
I would consider heading up to the game since it is in California, but as a matter of personal safety, I make it a habit never to set foot in Oakland.
Until next Sunday as we ride on the river of Black and Gold sadness.
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