A couple Lions fans celebrated their team's historic victory with a spot of lower-bowl grab-ass that ended with the two of them re-enacting the Ned Beatty piggy scene from Deliverance. And Detroit was happy once again.

Jerry Jones sold 30,000 "party passes" for the regular-season debut of his new football palace, where, in a standing-room section, every passholder was treated to great views of 29,999 other passholders. The scene turned briefly into something out of Lord of the Flies. Sucks to your pass mar!

This lass had a message for Jesus Christ Football Star, and she wore it on her shirt. It's tough to see here, but please note the gray-haired lady in back, looking on in slowly dawning horror.

Chargers linebacker Shawne Merriman was arrested for allegedly choking his girlfriend, Internet creature Tila Tequila. The case against Merriman was eventually dropped, but he was nonetheless tried and convicted in the high court of Tila Tequila's Twitter account.

A day after LeGarrette Blount decked Byron Hout, Dash made the persuasive argument that the smirking jackass who started it all got exactly what was coming to him.

The bold-face-type enthusiasts of Fire Joe Morgan reunited for one glorious day on our site and, afterward all that was left of poor Allen Barra was a couple mindlessly contrarian opinions and some hair.

Someone dug up an ancient video of a skeevy Cris Collinsworth in which he declared, absurdly: "I like girls that aren't too bright because you can trick 'em a little bit...high school girls love me. Fourteen to eighteen, I'm a big star with them." And then, even more absurdly, he apologized — and not for that Cosby sweater.

Football, as choreographed by Bob Fosse.

In a handicapped stall at Cowboy Stadium, a guy in a Michael Irvin jersey decided to do to a woman what Jerry Jones did to 30,000 fans with Party Passes. We got the video.

And, lastly, there are the Salisbury-Daulerio Letters, a correspondence that stretched across three batshit posts. It was, as AJ noted, the meltiest media meltdown of them all. Sean has not been heard from since. Nor have we heard from his attorneys and "powerful Pr firm .. from NYC." He is out there, though. Somewhere. I like to imagine him on a beach on South Padre, sipping a tall, fruity drink and pecking away at his ESPN tell-all, espn exposed. He nears the end of the book. He thinks for a moment. He considers a passing cloud. And then he taps out the last line, a line to rival them all — Fitzgerald, Hamlet, Bogie to Claude Rains. Sean Salisbury looks at the screen and smiles wryly. "Sent," it reads, "from my iPhone."

Not long after that old clip of a young wide receiver talking about his appeal with naive high school girls started burning up the internets, we—and other media outlets that posted it—got a polite and humble email from the former Bengal turned TV expert guy, apologizing for his youthful indiscretion. The mea culpa is reproduced in full, below:

As a family man I am extremely embarrassed by an interview I did when I was in my early twenties about dating. My comments were insulting, immature, and foolishly intended as a joke. They do not reflect how I lived my life then or now.

I was asked to do something humorous about dating, and it has been a major embarrassment to me since the day I said it.

I apologize to anyone who has ever had the misfortune to see it now or a quarter-century ago.

Sincerely
Cris Collinsworth

Apology accepted, Cris. When it comes to the haircut, however, you should have no regrets.

A nice gentleman named Greg sent this in to Josh at With Leather, who accurately points out a rather striking resemblance between the young Collinsworth and Wooderson from Dazed and Confused, and all of us sports fans owe Greg and Josh a debt of gratitude for this one. Here, in all its glory, is a halftime segment on the fabulous single life of NFL players from an early 80s Monday Night Football telecast. Watch Cris Collinsworth gyrate on the dance floor to the funky sounds of The Pointer Sisters and detail to Terre Blair just how big of a twatty baller he is:

I'm not gonna deny it, I walk around with hundred dollar bills hanging out of my pocket...I like girls that aren't too bright because you can trick 'em a little bit...high school girls love me. Fourteen to eighteen, I'm a big star with them. As soon as they mature, after they turn 18 years old, they start to figure it out.

Yeah.

This is truly one for the ages ladies and gentlemen, something that would NEVER make it to the air these days and, if it somehow did, would probably earn Collinsworth a nice little fine, suspension and a Mea Culpa interview with Oprah, Larry King or James Brown. Enjoy...

And again, big ups to Greg for sending this gem to With Leather. Look me up up if you're ever in New York Greg. I'd like to buy you a beer or six.

UPDATE: Read Cris Collinsworth's apology here.

The roster is impressive. The studio show, "Football Night In America," is packed, with Bob Costas, Cris Collinsworth, Sterling Sharpe and Jerome Bettis, who is from Detroit. The game crew is the same as last year: Madden and the wascally Al Michaels. Andrea Kramer is the sideline reporter, and if we know anything about this sports media world, we know that position will require her to endure upwards of four million "which athlete/coach/fellow broadcaster is she sleeping with?" rumors in the first two months. (Most of which started by bored print beat guys.)

All in all: A pretty good team, we think. Thoughts?

NBC Sunday Nights Is All Right For Football [Boston Globe]

(UPDATE: Oh, and Peter King's going to be on the show too.)