The Five Stages Of Football Grief. Jamboroo, Week 14

Drew Magary's Thursday Afternoon NFL Dick Joke Jamboroo runs every Thursday during the NFL season. Find more of his stuff at his Twitter feed.

The Cowboys lost to the Giants last weekend, and now stand at 8-4 in the NFC East, tied for 1st with Philly, and only one game ahead of New York (who hold any playoff tiebreaker over Dallas because they swept both games against them). That was the Cowboys' same record after 13 weeks LAST year, when they summarily went into the shitter. Here are the final four opponents for Dallas: SD, @NO, @WAS, PHI. They're going to lose three of those games, if not more. How marvelous.

Obviously, Cowboys fans don't deserve your pity. Cowboys fans deserve to have their dicks punched inside out, and then filled with hot tar. HOORAY FOR TARPUSSY. Cowboys fans lead the league in calling in to sports talk radio stations in other cities and assessing other teams for no reason at all. And they'll only reveal that fact after being on the air for three minutes ("Actually guys, I'm not even a Broncos fan. I'm a longtime Cowboys fan. But lemme tell you what I see wrong with Denver…"). Cowboys fans also lead the league in being tandem bandwagon fans of the LA Lakers. I swear, there are forty million Cowboys/Lakers fans out there. "Longtime Cowboys and Lakers fan here, Bob. Most definitely!" Tarpussy them all, I say.

All that said, the Cowboys have obviously fallen into a pattern of collapsing every December. No doubt, your team, at some point, has also experienced a similar kind of year. You start off hot, you get your hopes up, and then it all falls to pieces. Even the Steelers have lost four in a row now. We're at the time of year where teams begin failing and fans of the 31 teams who do NOT end up winning the Super Bowl are left to deal with the emotional fallout of seeing their team, once again, come up short. Chargers fans. Eagles fans. Vikings fans. All of you are well aware of what lies ahead. I know I am. Despair springs eternal.

There's a process to dealing with these kinds of crushing defeats. It's a process all of us go through. It's like grieving over the death of a loved one, only much more devastating. The traditional five stage of grief are as follows:

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

This model doesn't work for dealing football grief. For one thing, there is NEVER acceptance. As a fan, you can't simply accept losing. That would make you a total pussy. Here are the adjusted five stages of grief as it pertains to horrible football defeats.

1. ANGER.
FUCK! God fucking dammit! I WILL CLIMB TO THE TOP OF A CLOCK TOWER AND BEGIN SHOOTING PEOPLE WITH A FUCKING CROSSBOW. Shit! Fuck! Ass! Cock!

(cry angry tears)

THESE ARE TEARS OF ANGER!

(throws remote against wall)

(sees remote is broken)

FUCK!

(sees wife walk in, perplexed as to why you threw the remote against the wall and broke it)

DON'T EVEN SAY ANYTHING TO ME RIGHT NOW, WOMAN. I'LL FUCKING REPLACE IT.

Okay, I'm sorry I called you, "woman." Wait, where are you going? Can't we just talk about this?

2. DENIAL
We gave it to them! WE FUCKING GAVE IT TO THEM! They did not deserve to win that game! They did not win it. We LOST it. They got lucky! Statistically, we were CLEARLY the better team. THE REFS WERE FUCKING BIASED. Roger Goodell and the league office wanted the other team to prevail to help goose ratings and/or prop up an ailing TV market. That was not a legitimate win! If we make that field goal, we win. If player X doesn't get hurt, we win. If we aren't called for holding 37 times, we win. If something that did happen that obviously should not have happened does not happen, we win. In any other alternate universe, WE ARE RIGHTFUL CHAMPIONS.

(NOTE: Fans of the 2007 Patriots are still on this stage.)

3. IDLE DEMANDS
THAT'S FUCKING IT! I've had enough of everyone involved with playing for this team, coaching it, owning it, coordinating air and ground transport for it. I want them ALL fired. All of them. Every last one. I don't care that replacing an entire roster and coaching staff is a painstaking and inexact process that could do more harm than good. SOMEONE NEEDS TO TAKE THE FUCKING FALL FOR THIS SHIT! Or else I am DONE with this team. D-O-N-E. Forever. Completely done. No longer a fan. I SWEAR I'LL FOLLOW THROUGH WITH THIS.

(calls talk radio station and repeats demands)

(goes on team message board, reiterates demands)

4. QUESTIONING
Why? Why, God? Why must you allow something like this to happen? I've been good to you. I wash my hands on occasion. I only masturbated in front of the babysitter twice, which was downright restrained given her incredible rack. Why must you do this? DO YOU EVEN EXIST?

5. INDIFFERENCE
Fuck it, what else is on?

If you're a veteran of this process as I am, you can go from Step 1 directly to Step 5. And in only just a few short minutes. The Vikings? Pfft. Fuck them. They're toast. Bastards.

The Games
All games in the Jamboroo are evaluated for sheer watchability on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms.

The Five Stages Of Football Grief. Jamboroo, Week 14

Five Throwgasms

Bengals at Vikings: Last week, I said this was the best Vikings team since 1998, and that Brett Favre was playing exceptionally well. The Vikings then proceed to lose to Arizona, see their QB suffer a mysterious hand injury that is surely worse than it appears (I'm convinced it's broken in 37 different places and he refuses to have it x-rayed), see both starting tackles exit the game at various points due to injury, and lose their starting middle linebacker to a shattered thighbone. Oops.

One piece of decent news for the Vikings: Last Sunday night, NBC showed a graphic that said Brad Childress is more successful challenging calls than the league average. I would never have guessed that.

As for the Bengals, during last week's win against the Lions, the clock graphic on FOX was all weird. It looked like they had to integrate footage of the actual stadium clock into the banner graphic at the top for some reason. I don't know if this was explained or not during the telecast because I only watched snippets of the game on Red Zone Channel, but I was transfixed on it. There are times when I zone out and stare at the graphic or the ticker on the bottom of the screen for minutes at a time instead of looking at the thing I'm supposed to be looking at. Even if I've already read the entire contents of the BottomLine, I'll just keep reading it, like a moron. During the Texas-Nebraska game last week, I read the item about Bob Stoops denying an interest in Notre Dame 40,000 times.

Broncos at Colts: Jim Sorgi is out for the year, which means the Colts have only rookie Curtis Painter to play QB behind Peyton Manning as this team starts playing out the string. I'll miss Sorgi, who lent an unmistakable preseason feel to any late-season game he ever played in. Also, his name makes me think of a sorghum orgy. Tell me this plant doesn't look ready to stick it to a bitch.

Chargers at Cowboys: I've had to take a lot of Vicodin lately due to back pain. And one of the pluses to taking Vicodin, apart from the fact that you're taking Vicodin, is that it makes your dreams AWESOME. Hugely cinematic. It's like all my dreams are directed by Paul Greengrass. They have a plot. They have characters (people I've never even met, OR HAVE I?). They have a story arc. I never wake up right in the middle of them. I always wake up when they've come to a fitting and logical conclusion. I may never see an actual movie again. Vicodin dreams are a movie lover's delight, and don't let anyone tell you any different.

Eagles at Giants: Behold the awesome power of Leonard fucking Weaver. Not only can this man destroy everything in his path, he has MATCHING FOREARM FLAME TATS.

The Five Stages Of Football Grief. Jamboroo, Week 14

Look at that. You could put Satan's throne between those pipes.

Andy Reid signed a three-year extension this week. I asked resident Eagles fan Daulerio for a reaction:

"/lazily tosses challenge flag."

The Five Stages Of Football Grief. Jamboroo, Week 14

Four Throwgasms

Saints at Falcons: The Michael Vick lovefest in Atlanta last week was retarded. You want Vick? Really, Atlanta? After he killed dogs? And lied? And blamed his shitty accuracy problems on Roddy White? And ran Jim Mora out of town in favor of Bobby Petrino? All while you have a perfectly good young passer? Michael Vick is the black Welker.

Dolphins at Jaguars: Speaking of racy race racial race talk, all of you need to begin following Jason Whitlock on Twitter immediately. If you think Big Sexy is 400 loving pounds of nutty in his Fox columns, it's nothing compared to his unfiltered musings.

any married man who travels 4 his job shud not b allowed to publicly comment on Tiger. It's a dishonest performance 2 keep peace @home

U have 2 do more than read Tweets. U have 2 attempt 2 comprehend them. Never said all men or all men who travel cheat. Didn't imply it

Of course you didn't Jason. All you said was that men who travel for work have no right to criticize Tiger in public because they're HYPOCRITES WHO CHEAT ON THEIR LADIES. You see how that makes sense? Say Jason, what do you think of Rick Reilly?

R u kidding me with this personal advice Reilly is giving Tiger on ESPN? Fire this idiot! This is the dumbest thing I've ever seen

Watch Reilly 4 yourself and tell me what you think. I'm gassing up the hooptie, getting my ski mask and loading the AK

Can't argue with his "gun down Rick Reilly" policy. I'd rather floss an alligator than be Rick Reilly right now!

The Five Stages Of Football Grief. Jamboroo, Week 14

Three Throwgasms

Cardinals at 49ers: Leitch is right. Anquan Boldin is a terrifying human being. Every time they cut to him, he looks like someone just raped his sister and he's out looking for the perpetrator. The man is PISSED. I know he wants a new contract, so I'm in awe of his ability to remain pissed about that fact for the entirety of an NFL regular season. Hell, he's been pissed since LAST season. He's like the Juggernaut of anger.

Also, '99 Warner showed up last Sunday Night. '99 Warner is also utterly terrifying. You never know when '99 Warner will show up, but when he does, he will RUIN YOUR SHIT.

Panthers at Patriots: It's time for me to point out, once again, that the college football regular season is now over, and the NFL has once again refused to air afternoon games on Saturdays in December, as they regularly did up until a few years ago. Oh, they'll give you Saturday Night Football. And Thursday Night Football. But God forbid they give you something to do during the day on Saturdays. Hey Goodell, GO FUCK YOURSELF. Get a pairs of pliers, stretch out your tiny ginger dick, and stuff the tip of it up your asshole. Give me my Saturday afternoon NFL football back.

And FUCK YOU, to whatever shithead from Alabama runs college football. For the millionth year in a row, your retarded excuse for a legitimate sport takes a month off for no fucking reason at all. Oh, but our regular season is the most meaningful in the world! Well, that's lovely. But your gay postseason means JACK SHIT. Way to go. Way to prove yourself vastly inferior to the NFL on an annual basis. Fuck you with a pine cone.

The Five Stages Of Football Grief. Jamboroo, Week 14

Two Throwgasms

Redskins at Raiders: The Redskins wore burgundy jerseys at home last week, which they almost never do. Both the Cowboys and the Redskins usually wear white at home, which means they essentially wear white jerseys all year round, except when they play in each other's respective stadiums. This is gay. What makes those teams so special that they get to buck the rules of solids and whites? FUCK YOU, SNYDER AND THE SKINS. You look better in burgundy jerseys. Rock them more often.

Also, I find it extremely disheartening that the Skins are playing such inspired football at the end of this season. This was to be a glorious year of complete team combustion and fan revolt. Jim Zorn was supposed to be fired in Week 6. Pepper Rodgers was supposed to be brought in as head coach by Week 10, causing people to burn shit in the stands. It was going to be a wonderful 16 weeks of chaos here in DC, I tell you. But nooooo. No, the team had to go out and play really hard, making people think that maybe things aren't all that bad. What a rip. You let me down, Redskins. You let me down big time. I hate it when shitty teams have that dead cat bounce at the end of the year, where they refuse to fully deteriorate.

Packers at Bears: I'm too lazy to go back and check, but I'm almost certain that most of the throwgasm ratings you see in these posts every week turn out to be horribly wrong. The best games of last week were Raiders-Steelers and Redskins-Saints, both of which were given one throwgasm by me. Way to help people assess their viewing options, me. YOU STUPID ASSHOLE.

Seahawks at Texans: Steve Slaton is done for the year. Good. I hope he dies.

The Five Stages Of Football Grief. Jamboroo, Week 14

One Throwgasm

Steelers at Browns: This is tonight's game. I'm quite sure you will not be sad to miss it.

Lions at Ravens
Bills at Chiefs
Jets at Bucs
Rams at Titans

Pregame Song That Makes Me Want To Run Through A Goddamn Brick Wall

"A Touch Of Evil," by Judas Priest. It appears Sony has collaborated with YouTube to create a venture called VeVo, where you can watch their music videos online. All the videos are now prefaced with a :15 second ad. And that's how my Judas Priest video ended up having a special invitation to an Alicia Keys concert stuck in front of it. Because those two fanbases are so very much alike.

Embarassing Song I Once Liked That Will Not Fire You Up

"Right on Track," by the Breakfast Club. This band named itself before the movie of the same title came along, and Madonna was once of a member of the band briefly because she was the girlfriend of Dan Gilroy, the lead singer and guitarist. You would think the band would kick themselves for letting Madonna go, but I have a sneaking suspicion no one in that group regrets a single thing about never having to work with that crazy dragon lady ever again.

I like that the band is actually eating breakfast in this video, true to their name. And look! The drummer is drumming on tires! And the keyboardist has fake hands! Why? Who fucking cares? It's the 80's, and everyone was doing way too much cocaine to give a shit.

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? Are you a minor league baseball player who finds the urinary habits of your Latino teammates repulsive? Email me any question or observation you like.

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Reader AJ (not Daulerio) demands I nominate John Carney.

The kicker position on a fantasy roster is intended to be the one spot that requires no thought. The only times kickers should concern you as an owner is the last round of your draft and the bye week. Unless you have John Fucking Carney who somehow manages to get benched in week 13 for presumably being a fossil. I don't get it, the guy has been putting up good numbers all year then loses his job on game day after I had already filled out my roster. Meanwhile some asshole named Garrett Hartley kicks 4 FGs and 3 XPs. Fuck him and fuck John Carney. He can shove his AARP card up his ass and I hope he chokes to death on an early bird special.

Also, anytime John Carney is featured on highlights, Berman does a fucking Ed Norton from "The Honeymooners" impression. Every time. Because that never gets old, not even half a century after the show originally aired. I'm shocked Berman never busted out a conga drum during Ricardo Colclough highlights.

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of Denver was correct, making our suggestions for your pool 10-3 on the year. Sorry about the three wrong ones. That puts the Broncos, Bengals, Steelers, Jets, Falcons, Bears, Colts, Eagles, Vikings, Texans, Ravens, Saints and Skins off the board now. We once again pick a team for your suicide pool and something that makes you WANT to commit suicide. This week's pick? New England, and the return of the Lexus holiday ads. Yes, they're back. Here to torture you and the writing staff of the Onion's AV Club, as they have for years and years now. Featuring impossibly rich people who have no problem spending $50,000 on a luxury car for a gift. Not only can they afford the car, they can also afford the custom-made bow that's affixed to the top. They also have beautiful homes with very large cul de sac driveways. And look! Little Johnny is trying to drive the Lexus! That's so sweet! Every December, I pray to Jesus that a neutron bomb drops on the home of every Lexus owner, and every year Christ lets me down.

Nazi Shark's Vegas Lock Of The Week
Lots of sports sites, to demonstrate the arbitrary nature of gambling, like to have animals like monkeys pick games to see if they can outwit their human counterparts. There's no reason we at Deadspin can't also get in on the fun. So we've asked National Socialist German Workers' Party member Rolf, who also happens to be a shark, to pick one game a week. Take it away, Nazi shark.

The Five Stages Of Football Grief. Jamboroo, Week 14

"This week, I LOVE the Chargers getting 3 points against Dallas on the road. Hey, it's nearly Christmas. Time to bust out the Jew nog."

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 6-7. The shark is ice cold.

This Week's Pants Party Winner
Last week's Pants Party winner was Dave B. Here's his free rant space:

Al Groh was fired as the Virginia head coach after nine seasons. (And, unfortunately for me, I'm also a Jets fan. So that means I got a cool decade of suffering through Groh's mediocrity.)

After his last game Groh had the audacity to stoically read a poem, the "Guy in the Glass". It has little to nothing to do with Groh's situation and was remarkably self indulgent.

I'm sorry that Groh couldn't get his dream job to work out. But he never owned up to his own shortcomings. Even in the comments from this game, he started talking about a lack of talent at Virginia being the problem as if he were dealt a bad hand or something. He had nine years to establish the program. He had nine years to build up a recruiting regime. He had tons of chances to build a staff of capable assistants. He had opportunities to win big games. He failed at everything and I don't think I've ever heard him shoulder one bit of responsibility for what's happened.

The poem he read was a bunch of crap.

Great Moments In Poop History
Reader Erik chimes in with this poop prank idea:

I used to live near a city golf course in Minneapolis. One night, as my high school friends and I were driving around killing time I felt a large chalupa dump building in my bowels. We were passing the golf course and immediately after stating I needed to go to Dairy Queen to drop a deuce a better idea emerged. Take a dump in a golf hole. Brilliant? I say yes.

I concur. Here's Sports Pun with a story he calls "Brown Down's":

In middle school, we had this kid with Down's Syndrome who had a habit of sittin' on the toilet with the stall door wide open. It was always jarring at first, but being polite little Maine kids we got used to it/ignored it. He seemed to be havin' a ball, so why rain on his slow parade?

One day, 6th grade me saunters into the bathroom, averts his eyes and sits down in the stall next to my buddy, door wide-open as always. He stands up and I assume he's buttoning up his slacks, 'cause he's in there for a while. I don't hear a flush (he'd forget sometimes) and he makes his way to the sink. I finish up my business, wipe (SITTING DOWN!) and flush properly and take the sink next to his.

One thing I hadn't noticed up until that point was that he was standing in front of the sink with no water running. I happen to glance off to my left and am frozen in stone like a Medusa victim. My man has two heaping, steaming handfuls of his own poop; and he's squeezin' and sculpting like a Play-Doh pro.

Needless to say, I skip the drying process and make a bee-line for the door and head back to class; white-faced, as if I just witnessed a horrible rape. In a way I did: the rape of my childhood.

I told no one, best to just leave it be. But apparently another kid went in there after me and snitched to the proper authorities and he had to have a teacher in there with him every time he went from then on. The young man couldn't be trusted with his own poop!

Give that little retarded kid the brown medal.

And what the hell, here's another poop story from Joe Slice:

Last Friday my girlfriend had an allergic reaction to an antibiotic she was taking. She started to break out in a rash and she was having some chest pain so we decide to head to urgent care. We make are way inside, check in, and are moved to an area with multiple beds, each individually separated by the curtain hung from the ceiling. The nurse closes the curtain and we settle in and begin to listen to the other patients as we wait for the doctor to arrive.

About 15 minutes after we sit down, our next curtain neighbor calls the nurse over and begins to complain about stomach pain. From the sound of her voice, our neighbor is approximately 65 years old, by herself, and generally unhappy. The nurse comes over and checks on her and asks if she wants a bed pan. "Jesus woman, I want a toilet," she declines. The nurse obliges and brings her the porta-a-loo. We can hear her try to climb out of her bed, yelling at the nurse for coughing on her (not true) and as she tries to get onto the toilet she tells the nurse she is about to go. At this point, the doctor and nurse are both with her and doctor mentions to the nurse that this poor woman was given two glasses of prune juice and a heavy duty laxative a few hours ago and has an "obstruction" in her colon which is causing blockage and she hasn't done the deed in over a week.

At this point, the two of us can only brace for impact, knowing what is about to come next. The glop glop glop noise of repressed poop makes its way to our ears about 3 seconds before we are knocked backward by the smell of what only can come out of a 65 year old woman living on creamed corn and beef hash. We try our best to not draw any attention to ourselves but the smell is beyond overpowering. I'm now gagging. Somehow, we survived the initial onslaught but the stench lingered in the air until we were leaving two hours later.

Fire This Asshole!
Is there anything more exciting than a coach losing his job? All year long, we'll keep track of which coaches will almost certainly get fired at year's end or sooner. And now, your updated chopping block:

Tom Cable
Jim Zorn
Eric Mangini
Jim Mora
John Fox*
Gary Kubiak*
Dick Jauron – FIRED!
Lovie Smith*

(* - midseason firing potential)

I think this may be a disappointing turnout for the firing line by year's end. I could see everyone but Smith, Kubiak, and Mangini staying on. Even Zorn has improved his prospects a little. So disappointing. It's a much nicer holiday season when coaches get fired by the dozen.

Gametime Snack Of The Week

The Five Stages Of Football Grief. Jamboroo, Week 14

Glazed nuts! Listen, you take any nut, roast it, and the shellack it with a buttery, sugary shell that's at least 5mm thick, you have yourself a superior holiday snack. My wife bought some ginger orange glazed almond thingies the other day. I could have eaten seven bags in the span of three minutes.

In New York, they have nut stands where they continually roast almonds and pecans and shit all day long. You walk by those things and it takes the strength of Larry Allen not to buy a bag of ten nuts for $5. Damn you, good smelling Manhattan nut vendors.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week

The Five Stages Of Football Grief. Jamboroo, Week 14

Wildcat! Reader HabsFan29 submits this Canadian specialty:

Wildcat is brewed by a major brewery (Labatt) and is known for two things - being cheap and causing massive hangovers. Now there's an endorsement. It's sold at the cheapest price allowed by law in Canada (yes, we have laws for everything up here, like which doctors you can see under our Communist healthcare system and how much weed you can grow before you get busted). It came out while I was at university (Ed. Note: You can get away with talking this way when you're from Canada.) and a buddy who always drank it would claim that saying "Wiiildcaaat" in a deep voice after every chug and subsequent belch would help you avoid the hangover. It didn't work.

Of course it didn't. Look at that label. It's got mountains AND a mountain lion on it. Now that's some cheap ass shit!

On a related note, I'd like to thank all of you readers who have helped revive this section of the Jamboroo. Once I ran out of cheap beers to profile, I had to switch to profiling regular, GOOD beers. And that's no fun at all. You people have revived my faith that there is an endless supply of horrible, shady, ass-tasting brand beers out there. WITH MOUNTAINS ON THE CAN. ALWAYS. It's been the greatest holiday treat of all.

Robert Evans' MVP Watch!
Time to start thinking about who the leaders are for the NFL's MVP award. So every week, legendary Hollywood producer Robert Evans will join us to give us his assessment. Take it away, Mr. Evans.

The Five Stages Of Football Grief. Jamboroo, Week 14

"Baby, my favorite for the NFL's MVP this year is, once again, a TIE between Drew Brees of the Saints and Peyton Manning of the Colts! You know, I've been seeing a lot of ads for this fancy new Avatar movie lately. It's got all kinds of blue aliens and 3D effects. Expensive? You bet! But as good as the way I used to make movies when I was head of Paramount? NO WAY, JOSE! You don't need special effects when you've got REAL stars, baby! You want a special effect? Try Liz Taylor's ass way back when! You talk about taking an audience's breath away! That ass could have slayed a thousand dragons! AND EVANS GOT A PIECE OF IT BEFORE THE FRUIT WENT BAD!"

BONUS Robert Evans Story!
Reader Vince M. unearthed an old Evans chestnut this week. He writes in:

I was reading an old interview with Sly Stallone (from AICN) and immediately thought of you when I read it.

So I began dating another woman at that time (who shall remain nameless) and slowly I was feeling better about myself. One afternoon I was invited to Robert Evans' house to discuss doing the movie. I was completely on board until he said, "I might have something that'll interest you." Whereupon he returned with a duffle bag full of X-rated Polaroids. He dumped this mess on the coffee table and burrowing through all these poor actresses that thought they were going to eventually amount to something, he came across a very X-rated Polaroid of the girl I was dating and said, "Hey, look, we have something in common." I thought blood was going to come out my eyes and felt such loathing at that moment. What was the man thinking? Is this his idea of bonding, by showing me a salacious image of the girl I thought was beyond anything so perverse? Guess not. Without a word, I exited his house and his life."

Salacious? You bet! Name dropping? As all hell!

Well played, Vince. Very well played.

Sunday Afternoon DVD Box Set Of The Week For Browns Fans
Father Ted! Only the greatest television show in the history of everything ever. Three drunken priests who hate being priests? That's my kind of show. FECK! ARSE! DRINK! GIRLS!

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"This is Fuzzy Bunny. About a year ago, he noticed his voice was changing, he had terrible acne, and had fur where there was no fur before."

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Country music superstar Carrie Underwood. Around these parts, my penis is known as the original American Idol. Hey-O!!!!
-For the gals: Hunky wolfboy Tyler Lautner. Looks like a brown Jimmy Clausen.

Enjoy the games, everyone.