Comparisons of the NFL's opening weekend to March Madness have never rang truer. If you caught the end of the Broncos and Bills, you know exactly what we mean.

Cutler, with nary a fucking timeout to his name, marched his offense down the field on a drive that converted TWO fourth downs (that I saw) and sent the field goal unit sprinting onto the field with seconds to spare. Elam backpedalled into position and almost instantly charged forward to the ball...and fucking nailed it!

It's a good thing I put on pants an hour ago, because I would have blasted my load everywhere. Holy shit, what a finish.

But Kansas City, with one of the best RBs in the game in Larry Johnson, sauntered into Houston and got skullfucked by the Texans. What. The. Shit? Andre Johnson caught 7 for 142 and a score. Schaub threw for 225 (1 TD, 1 pick). The Texans were on top for most of this game (or, pitching, if you will), and served a bit of notice to the League that their days as the doormat of the AFC South may finally be over.

The Chiefs finished the day at 3-for-11 on 3rd down conversions and 1-for-1 on screwing the pooch on opening weekend. But I give credit to the Texans, who finally got tired of getting the shit kicked out of them and deciding to hold serve on their home weekend.

Meanwhile, I am about to pound out a post where I virtually suck off Jason Elam...Fuck me frozen...

September, of course, is when baseball approaches my favorite part of the season — the end. I have no genuine qualms with the game or its fans; in fact, I can think of few more enjoyable ways to spend a sunny weekend afternoon than taking in a Greenville Drive game and enjoying moderately-overpriced refreshment between innings. But in September, baseball almost seems to get bored with itself. Most of the playoff spots have already been established, rosters have expanded. The season becomes stale. The hopes of fans have already withered.

Football, on the other hand, is the shiny new toy that we find under the tree that we can't wait to open and cherish. A game featuring our teams becomes an event, a celebration. Quite literally, it becomes a holiday. And while the congregated may not share a bloodline or a penchant for explosive devices as the case remains for other items on the calendar, these games do, in their own way, bring us together.

Sincerely, I am really looking forward to catching some playoff baseball, as I find those games as exciting as any played throughout the year, in any sport. But until October gets here, every one of my spare thoughts will be centered around the feasability of the end-around, the logic of the draw on 3rd and long, and devising new ways to make Peyton Manning look like an asshole.