Second part of the Deadspin Civil War Mayor's bet is complete. This was actually more painful than the tattoo.

Thanks to the Electric Jim Cooke, Cajun Boy, and Videogum for their assistance. Will, obviously hopped up on Buzzsaw Juice, is a lot stronger than I thought.

This video was lovingly put together by Gawker video ninja Mike Byhoff.

And, no, the romantic sushi dinner will not be filmed.

I was under the impression that tattoos, even the most pedestrian ones in the shape of power tools, would take a long period of time. Thankfully, Michelle from Dare Devil Tattoo is well-honed in her craft. It only took about 20 minutes, was relatively painless, and no blood was spilled. But now I'm forever scarred and, also, forever an unintentional lifelong supporter of The Buzzsaw That Is The Arizona Cardinals. Or woodworking.

Anyway...here:

Tomorrow: The Cookie Sheet To The Face That Is The Arizona Cardinals.

Thank you for your continued support of Deadspin. Fuck you, Eagles.

I'm meeting a prospective artist over at DareDevil Tattoo in the Lower East Side in a few minutes to find out just how long, painful, and ridiculous-looking this image would be. Many people have tried to talk me out of following through with my end of the Mayor's Bet (including the Emeritus himself), but, personally, I feel like not following through with it would be even more lame than actually having a buzzsaw tattoo forever. My parents, on the other hand, are much more concerned about me getting walloped in the face with a cookie sheet. That will take place either tonight or tomorrow night, depending on scheduling conflicts.

Thank you for your continued support of Deadspin. More tomorrow.

Anyway, this is my conciliatory post and I congratulate Will and the rest of the 14 people that have followed this team before they were the Buzzsaw. Especially that guy in the blue shirt.

I will follow through on my end of our Mayor's bet. If anyone knows any tattoo artists who are willing to put a buzzsaw on me, well, let me know. This fucking sucks.

I'm off tomorrow. Have a good night.

At the Super Bowl in Miami in 2006, right after McNabb's arthroscopic knee surgery, he came gimping into radio row with what seemed like his whole immediate family in tow. His giant-sized jaw was in fight position as he made his way around the blue carpet. He made sure everyone on radio row knew that, even though his limp was still very pronounced, he'd be back. He seemed angry that the rest of the football world didn't realize that THE KNEE IS FINE. If the Eagles weren't going to publicly support him, or even hint that he wouldn't be the same quarterback he was before his ligament snapped, he'd just have to do it all by himself. Just three months later, on April 28th 2007, the Philadelphia Eagles used their first available draft pick on University of Houston quarterback Kevin Kolb. BUT THE KNEE IS FINE.

It's easy to pick on McNabb. As outgoing and jovial he is when things are going well, he can never hide his frustration during the media pile-on when things aren't so good. The praise about a 400-yard, three-touchdown game is brief and the accolades only last until the next 8-yard out-pass bounces off the ground. Or he sails one high over the receiver's head. Or doesn't run, dammit, run. Even though he's been with the team for ten years, he's never really been thought of as the main guy, the one who makes the Eagles work. Always a playmaker, never a leader. And that's why every year the Eagles fall short people suggest he needs more help: he has no receivers, he has no real running game, he has no other playmakers. The Terrell Owens disaster is always used as Exhibit A in this theory: that was the only year the Eagles made the Super Bowl with McNabb under center. But people always seem to forget that T.O. was injured late in the season and missed those two important playoff games against the Vikings and the Falcons, the two games needed to actually get to the Super Bowl. So, T.O. didn't do dick to get the Eagles to Jacksonville that year — that was all McNabb.

He's also just flat out weird. And it's not the kind of weird that Philadelphia tolerates anymore. Early in his career it was because he smiled too much after incomplete passes or when threw an ugly interception. He seemed to be having too much fun out there when the game was still undecided. Troy Aikman, whose Hall of Famestatistics were eclipsed by McNabb last season, probably said it best after the phone call incident against the Giants: "You know, sometimes I don't know what runs through that guy's head ..." Nobody does. And given all he's been through, and the success he's had, Super Bowl victory or not, it's probably about time we time just let the guy play and stopped giving a shit about what's going on in his head, his emotional state, or obsess over why he hates us. Regardless of how miserable playing in Philadelphia has been for him, he's still out there trying to win. Everybody else is just waiting for him to lose. This time, I'm more confident than ever he'll succeed.

And it is with this confidence that, I, A.J. Daulerio, shall pledge to do the following should the Buzzsaw that is the Arizona Cardinals win the NFC Championship this Sunday:

1. I will take Will Leitch out for a sushi dinner: This is only because there are no really good raisin restaurants in Cobble Hill.

2. I will also take a cookie sheet to the face. Because using a "cookie sheet" even during a violent act is still inherently wussy. I am also confident that Will's kitten arms won't be able to generate enough force to do any real damage.

3. I will get a tattoo of a buzzsaw on the top side of my right buttock. Let it be known: I currently have no tattoos on any part of my body, have never had any desire to get one, nor would I even take this bet unless I was 100 percent convinced there would be no possibility of me losing. So there. Shock me, Buzzsaw.

Of course there will be visual evidence of this as well. Does anyone know a tattoo person just in case?

The key question this week, or with any conference championship game, or NLCS, or Elite Eight, or Conference Finals, or whatever, is: What would this win mean? It's difficult to argue that the game means more for the Cardinals than the Eagles. If the Buzzsaw loses, we will be sad, but we fans will remember the season with fondness and considerable bewilderment. No one will be angry. It was an incredible run. We'll never forget it. If the Eagles lose, Andy Reid and Donovan McNabb must die. It's all a matter of perspective.

That doesn't mean a win wouldn't mean more for us, though. Not only have the Arizona Cardinals never been to a Super Bowl, the notions of "Arizona Cardinals" and "Super Bowl" are so incongruous that putting them in the same sentence sounds unnatural, like when your aunt asks you how excited you felt when the Boston Celtics won the World Series.

That's what this would mean to us. It would be physical proof that the Arizona Cardinals are a part of the NFL, of the NFL's history, a spot finally reserved on sports' biggest stage, at last, awareness of our existence that can never be taken away. That might not mean much to you if you are a Bears fan, or a Giants fan, or an Eagles fan, or god forbid a Cowboys fan. But it means something to us. We would be a real, live team. For the first time. That means a lot. That means a ton.

That's what Sunday's game means for us, for The Buzzsaw That Is The Arizona Cardinals. It's a chance, at last, to be alive in the eyes of the world.

Am I confident? I am, actually. I truly believe Arizona is going to win. I'm not cocky about it, dismissive of the opponent, like some people. I just feel like this could really happen. The stars seem aligned. The team is stronger than it has been since I can remember. And it feels like a sea change could be eminent. It feels like if we can matter now, we might continue to matter, from now on.

So: We enter the mayor's bet. A.J. Daulerio will put something extreme on the line, so, alas, I must as well. He'll be naming his stakes tomorrow, but for now, it's my turn. Let's get this down, officially.

If The Buzzsaw That Is The Arizona Cardinals lose to the Philadelphia Eagles on Sunday, I, Will Leitch, shall:

1. Take A.J. Daulerio out for a dinner that involves eating as many tacos as he can handle. This is the dumb food version of the bet. I think the Baltimore mayor is giving out crabs, or something. Same thing here.

2. Take a cookie sheet to the face. Mr. Daulerio will be allowed to swing a cookie sheet as hard as he wants directly at my face. This will be filmed.

3. Shave my head. That's right. If the Cardinals lose, a licensed hairstylist in New York City will cut off all of my hair. This will also be filmed; I expect it to look exactly like Full Metal Jacket. No more emo bangs, no more lucious locks, no more hiding of the scalp birthmark that's the shape of Nova Scotia. I will shave my head.

So. There are the stakes. Daulerio will give his side of the bet tomorrow.

Uh: Go Cardinals. Please.

Thanks to reader Mark McCarrell for throwing together that little image for us. I'm both amused and disturbed by the fact that you chose to use a photo of me dressed in drag and Leitch wearing a tuxedo, but I wont protest. Maybe it's a good omen. The last time the photo ran as part of a silly bet it worked out okay. The victory over the Giants this weekend just proved that the Eagles are playing on a different level than they have all season. Yeah, again — fuck you, camel.

Philadelphia has officially come around on this team that left for dead just a few short weeks ago. And with the Cardinals as the opponent, overconfidence is not in short supply. No, I will not overlook the plucky Buzzsaw and guarantee a victory on Sunday, but I will willingly take part in a Mayor's bet with the Emeritus that will definitely leave a mark. (Details on that will come Thursday.)

And look — Donovan's getting squirrely!:

“I’m gonna get ripped,” he said, looking over to teammates DeSean Jackson and Hank Baskett, and a few other amused players dressing nearby. “That is the story of my life. It’s something to talk about: ‘Donovan, what an idiot.’ ”

Another good thing about all this Eagles hoopla is the welcome return of Philadelphia's most nonsensical budding rap star, Monty Gee:

Thank you for your continued support of Deadspin. Beware the over-friendly, lurking bear.