First, of course, remember to join the last-minute Pick 'em pool. And now, let's hit it.

AFC EAST
1. New England Patriots. I kind of love that their schedule is actually easier than last year's. Does anybody really think Tom Brady is hurt? Wes Welker is the David Eckstein of the NFL: Discuss.
2. Buffalo Bills. Hey, a pick to make Luke Russert happy; cute kid, that Luke.
3. Miami Dolphins. Chad Pennington is kind of perfect for them. I'm already waiting for everyone to freak out when the Dolphins beat the Jets in Week 1.
4. New York Jets. I'm as giddy about having Brett Favre around as anybody ... but this whole thing seems like a disaster waiting to happen. Warning: I almost always pick the New York football teams to stink.

AFC NORTH
1. Pittsburgh Steelers. I'm in a keeper fantasy league with a bunch of fellow Illini grads, and people were clawing each other's throats out to draft Mendenhall. Anybody else think Roethlisberger's gonna have a monster year?
2. Cleveland Browns. This division might be a lot worse than everyone thinks. I'm more concerned about Derek Anderson than most people are, and I'm still crossing my fingers for another "Brady Quinn gets in a bar fight because someone thinks he's gay again" incident.
3. Cincinnati Bengals. Whose body is going to explode in a puff of smoke first: Chad Johnson or Shawne Merriman? It's gonna be close. God it's nice having Chris Henry back.
4. Baltimore Ravens. As long as Ray Lewis does his dance again, one more time, for old times sake, it will be a successful season. Flacco! Flac-co. FLACCO!

AFC SOUTH
1. Jacksonville Jaguars. This is the year they finally catch them, right? Somewhere, Byron Leftwich walks back and forth between rooms, flicking lights on and off. Slowly. Very slowly.
2. Indianapolis Colts. Has there ever been a less exciting opening of a new stadium than the Colts'? You went from one lifeless huge warehouse to another one. Woo-hoo. Congrats.
3. Houston Texans. Now that Mario Williams is officially good, I invite you to enjoy, once again, his driving skills
4. Tennessee Titans. Yes, yes, Merrill, you might have been right. Now please get off my porch.

AFC WEST
1. San Diego Chargers. Norv Turner is still the coach, and Philip Rivers is still a douche. All well and good here.
2. Denver Broncos. I kind of like that a team's forecast can be improved so dramatically by the news that a quarterback's diabetes is under control.
3. Oakland Raiders. You know, I bet they still draft a running back next year.
4. Kansas City Chiefs. Herm, baby, Herm. I'd follow that guy into Hell, except that he'd certainly get lost along the way.

NFC EAST
1. Philadelphia Eagles. Daulerio absolutely hates it when I pick the Eagles to win their division. Free Kevin Kolb!
2. Dallas Cowboys. I feel like I'm almost being generous here; something about this team stinks of "three early losses, immediate implosion." Dunno. A hunch.
3. New York Giants. Just finished reading Pro Football Prospectus, and they absolutely sold me on these guys and Eli Manning. Or sold me off them, that is. But my, oh my, I could look at that mag cover of Eli for days. It's hypnotic.
4. Washington Redkins. They might win the NFC West, but then everyone would be really confused about where the stadium was.

NFC NORTH
1. Green Bay Packers. Come on, how can you not root for Aaron Rodgers at this point? Even though every Packers fan I know is still shell-shocked ... and secretly hoping Favre comes back next year.
2. Minnesota Vikings. Were the KSK guys the first to come up with "Purple Jesus?" I feel like I read that there first. I would have gone with chartreuse, myself.
3. Detroit Lions. I really can't come up with anything to say about the Lions anymore. Fire Millen! That'll have to work for the next few years.
4. Chicago Bears.. It's pretty nice having Kyle Orton back, isn't it? It's like if Clinton Portis dressed up as his characters during games.

NFC SOUTH
1. New Orleans Saints. Look out for former Illini Pierre Thomas; we Buzzsaw fans would take one of these running backs, any of them. Remember: Sean Payton was a replacement player.
2. Carolina Panthers. I just talked to John Fox the other day, and he's very excited about his team.
3. Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Doesn't it seem like this team is perpetually one season away from total collapse? This is the year, until next year.
4. Atlanta Falcons. Honestly, they should just sacrifice a basset hound at midfield before the first game. Fuck 'em, ya know?

NFC WEST
1. The Buzzsaw That Is The Arizona Cardinals. I believe! I believe! (Seriously, this division is just awful. If not now, when? And don't say never.)
2. Seattle Seahawks. I don't think Hasselbeck's gonna last the season, and that would pretty much be it.
3. St. Louis Rams. Please, please let Rush Limbaugh buy this team.
4. San Francisco 49ers. Man, I got so drunk at J.T. O'Sullivan's last week. Irish car bombs will kill you.

All right, let's hear yours, and get this going tonight. And I hope this keeps you entertained until Drew comes and melts your faces off in a couple of hours.

Last year, we asked some of our favorite writers to opine why Their Favorite Team Was Better Than Yours. Ultimately, we found this constrictive, and it also might have killed James Frey. So this time, we've just asked them to just run free, talk about their team, their experience as a fan, their hopes, their dreams, their desires for oral sex. All our teams are now assigned; if you sent us an email and we didn't get back to you, we're sorry, and we accept your scorn. But today: Dallas Cowboys.

Your author is Bryan Curtis, staff writer at Slate and writer for PLAY. His words are after the jump.

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A few things you should know about Tony Romo. He is from Eastern Illinois. His favorite actor is Christian Bale [!], and his favorite movie is The Natural. He is good-looking, but not threateningly handsome in an Aikmanesque sort of way. Romo plays a lot of golf. He is the only person on the planet to have drawn the gentle chiding from Bill Parcells ("We've got a ways to go here. So put the anointing oil away, OK?") and the National Enquirer ("Carrie thought that they were moving closer to a more committed relationship") in the same calendar year .

As a Cowboys fan, I'm embarrassed to say that the whole Romo thing caught me off guard. The years of Anthony Wright, Quincy Carter, Chad Hutchinson, Vinny Testaverde and Drew Bledsoe will be, in the proud history of the franchise, an enormous black mark—they made you distrustful of any QB without a sufficient pedigree. Romo—a flat-faced, spiky-haired guy, who you could have no more imagined appearing on "Extra!" than Wade Phillips—seemed like another third-string QB given a charity late-season start. I didn't believe Peter King's ecstatic prediction that Romo would pull a Tom Brady on Drew Bledsoe. And then Romomania broke loose, and, well, here we are.

What really concerns me most about Romo is that this all seems too easy. His short career is based on a set of improbable coincidences—he's Kurt Warner with a slightly better haircut. I am fully prepared to believe that the heretofore anonymous player could become the starting quarterback of the Dallas Cowboys and then, within the week, begin dating starlets. I am prepared to believe that NBC's Sunday Night Football cameras would just happen to catch Romo and one such starlet, Carrie Underwood, having a tender, totally spontaneous conversation before a mid-season game against the Giants last season. I am prepared to believe that their courtship, if it is not an elaborate ruse, could be carried out on such a Brooks & Dunn level of innocence that at this year's Academy of Country Music Awards (which occurred many months after they met), Underwood would blurt out, "We're on a date, sort of."

I am prepared to believe that the Cowboys's grueling search for a QB post-Aikman would finally end not at the top of the first round but with a guy who wasn't even drafted. A guy who became a bit of a post-draft commodity only because (then-Cowboys assistant) Sean Payton and Mike Shanahan both happened to play quarterback at Eastern Illinois, and saw a bit of themselves in Tony Romo. (This is the magic of Romo. Shanahan can look at him and think...that's me.)

I am prepared to believe that Romo's awful blunder in last year's playoff loss to Seattle could go down not as a Jackie Smith Level tragedy but as a charming bit of NFL folklore, which even the goat can talk about with ease. "For me," he has said, "I always knew I would be okay after the loss."

I am prepared to believe any one of these things. But all of them at the same time? Really? The NFC looks like a dreadful collection of Seattles and Philadelphias this season, and yet I can't endorse the Cowboys with any good faith because I just don't believe Romo's run as a good-luck charm can continue.

As the guys at Pro Football Prospectus have noted, Romo's second year figures to be much harder than the first. Plus, Romomania disguises some very big problems in Dallas. Terence Newman's plantar fasciitis. Greg Ellis's hurt feelings. Wade Wilson's HGH order. Wade Phillips. The scary thing is, this team might rely on Romo even more than it did last season. I'm praying this isn't an elaborate prank staged by Aikman and Joe Buck. Until Romo has another good season, let's put away the anointing oil, OK?

Last year, we asked some of our favorite writers to opine why Their Favorite Team Was Better Than Yours. Ultimately, we found this constrictive, and it also might have killed James Frey. So this time, we've just asked them to just run free, talk about their team, their experience as a fan, their hopes, their dreams, their desires for oral sex. All our teams are now assigned; if you sent us an email and we didn't get back to you, we're sorry, and we accept your scorn. But today: New Orleans Saints.

Your author is Alex Balk, editor of Gawker.com. His words are after the jump.

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Last year in this space, I suggested that, seeing as the city of New Orleans was still a giant, sodden bowl of disaster that showed no signs of imminent repair, it might be a little frivolous to focus on the game of football, no matter how exciting it might be. Well, the city's still a mess two years after Katrina, but the Saints went all the way to the NFC Championship game last season, so fuck New Orleans: We're going to the Super Bowl, baby!

Overconfident? You might think so, but hear me out. This is more or less exactly the same team that, barring their inability to keep the Bears from scoring monstrous amount of points on that snowy Chicago eve, could have been last year's victim of the superior AFC in the big game. The season came as a surprise to everyone, even the players. This year the expectations are higher, but not only are these guys ready to meet them, they're more than able to exceed them. Assuming they have the same luck staying injury free as they did last year (granted, a big if), it's hard to see them not going all the way. Coach Sean Payton did a hell of a job making all the parts mesh and knowing when to stay out of the way. Brees showed the kind of confidence a championship-caliber quarterback needs to get the job done. And does anyone doubt Reggie Bush will only get better?

And consider this: As far as they went, this is a team that only won 10 games last year. I always used to piss and moan about the Steelers making the playoffs every year because they played in football's weakest division, so they were spotted at least six wins to begin with. Now that the NFC South has claimed that dubious distinction ... whatever, works for me! In fact — and here comes the most outlandish, jinx-inducing speculation I'll make, hoping that by actually saying it out loud there'll be some kind of double-reverse jinx property that comes into effect somehow — if the Saints manage to beat the Colts in the opener, it's not impossible to see them running the table on the next 14 games (the schedule is just that soft), which would see them facing the Bears in the final game of the season, where Lovie Smith will doubtless want to rest whoever has finally replaced Rex Grossman at QB. Yes, that's right: The Saints could go 16-0 this year.

Now that probably won't happen, but it is not at all irrational to expect 12 or 13 wins out of this team, which should be good enough for home field advantage throughout the playoffs. So when the inevitable rematch of last year's NFC Championship game occurs, it's gonna be in the Superdome. And the Saints are GOING TO THE SUPER BOWL, BITCHES!

Once there, of course, they'll be blown out by whoever wins the AFC, but whatever, you take what you can get. Maybe after the game is over we can start worrying about New Orleans the city again. Until then, it's gonna be a hell of a season.

Last year, we asked some of our favorite writers to opine why Their Favorite Team Was Better Than Yours. Ultimately, we found this constrictive, and it also might have killed James Frey. So this time, we've just asked them to just run free, talk about their team, their experience as a fan, their hopes, their dreams, their desires for oral sex. All our teams are now assigned; if you sent us an email and we didn't get back to you, we're sorry, and we accept your scorn. But today: San Diego Chargers.

Your author is The Mighty MJD, retired Deadspin weekend editor and current author of The Debriefing. His words are after the jump.

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I hate looking at Norv Turner's face. I know it's not a particularly pleasurable experience for anyone, but for a Chargers fan ... it causes actual physical pain. My chest hurts when I look at his goddamn face.

Norv's face should be the international symbol for "we are about to lose." I'm not looking for sympathy. In fact, in a way, Norv's presence makes things easier ... had Marty Schottenheimer been around for another year, there would have been the tension of wondering if this was the year Marty could finally pull his head out of his ass in the postseason.

The odds pointed against it, sure, but if you give any loser enough chances, they usually eventually break through. Don Shula, John Elway, Peyton Manning ... all former chokers, all eventual champions. Maybe Marty would've joined that group.

Norv, I'm pretty sure, will never belong to any group that could be described with the word "champion." Marty, he was at least a respected football guy. At least on some level, he knew what he was doing as a head coach. He belonged on the stage. Norv, however ... not only does he not belong on the stage, I'm not sure he belongs backstage, giving free handjobs to the guys who do belong.

And you know the worst thing about him? Norv's the kind of heartless son of a bitch who will make you forget his shortcomings for a long time, and then boom, he'll suddenly drop the hammer. I can't deny that I've been excited about the way the starting unit has looked in the preseason ... even though I know my optimism will be fruitless because he's Norv, it doesn't mean I can just turn it off.

And I fucking knew this would happen. I saw it coming. I knew that he'd have Philip Rivers looking fantastic, and that we'd move the ball and score some points, and things would be dandy until some crucial point in the regular season, where everything would go brokedick simply because Norv's on the sideline's being Norv. I swore that I wouldn't be seduced by this meaningless preseason masturbation ... but it happened. I am helpless to it.

Oh, the Norv hire works out great for everyone else ... LaDainian Tomlinson, Phil Rivers and Antonio Gates (consider drafting Vincent Jackson, too) should all have pretty decent fantasy seasons for you. The Chargers will put points on the board and will probably rack up a pretty good regular season record ... but somewhere along the line, Norv will see his opportunity to drag them down, and he will take it.

As for the actual nuts and bolts of the Chargers, and what kinds of changes you can expect ... there's not much, really. Despite an entire coaching staff turnover, the same systems remain in place on offense and on defense. The biggest change in personnel is at outside linebacker, where the Chargers substitute 'roided-out-of-his-mind Shawne Merriman to possibly-clean Shawne Merriman. An obvious and significant downgrade there. Hopefully, someone with a better masking agent has picked up his steroid slack.

Oh, and there are new uniforms. Forgive my bias, but these things are snazzy enough for Prince to wear on stage. The helmets are white, and all our little lightning bolts have a line of powder blue trim inside the dark blue trim. There's an all-new font for the jersey numbers and names, too ... I'm excited about it, and I don't care if that makes me gay.

The Chargers won't go 14-2 again ... the schedule is a little tougher this year, and it looks like the secondary is still going to be a bit of a problem. Something in the 10-6 or 11-5 range is more likely, followed by a Norv-engineered early playoff collapse.

(By the way, I miss you motherfuckers. I miss cursing, too.)

Last year, we asked some of our favorite writers to opine why Their Favorite Team Was Better Than Yours. Ultimately, we found this constrictive, and it also might have killed James Frey. So this time, we've just asked them to just run free, talk about their team, their experience as a fan, their hopes, their dreams, their desires for oral sex. All our teams are now assigned; if you sent us an email and we didn't get back to you, we're sorry, and we accept your scorn. But today: The Buzzsaw That Is The Arizona Cardinals.

Your author is Will Leitch, the editor of Deadspin. His words are after the jump.

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So here's something strange: I've never been to the state of Arizona.

This is strange not because I am unable to travel; there are scores of states I've never been to, ranging from Maine to Utah to Alabama. This is strange because I've met several people from Arizona, most of whom sports fans, and not a single one of them likes the Arizona Cardinals. They are from Arizona, and root for the Cowboys, or the 49ers, or even (gasp) the Jets. I have never been to Arizona, and every NFL Sunday, I'm the lonely guy in the back of the bar, watching the tiny television, grimacing as the Raiders eke out an 11-6 victory in which the teams combine for five field goals and a safety.

I've already explained why I wrote for a team that plays in a state I've never visited, so there's no use rehashing it here. But it seems odd to cheer so passionately for a team entirely from afar. I don't know what it's like to actually attend an Arizona Cardinals game. I don't know who the dopey local sponsors are. I don't know what kind of halftime shows they have. I don't even know who the radio broadcasters are.

Compare this, if you will, to being a St. Louis Cardinals fan. One of the things I love about being a St. Louis fan is how much like home Busch Stadium always feels. It's such a warm, Cardinals-centric environment that I'm honestly surprised when they lose. It seems like 50,000 people just united and welcoming. The game itself feels housed in this palpable biodome of Cardinals Land; you can tell the difference the minute you walk in the stadium. When I think of the Cardinals, I think of that Busch feeling as much as I think of the team itself.

I have no idea what this is like in Arizona. I know every player on the team, I know the depth chart, I know the coaches' tendencies, I even know how many different running backs Marcel Shipp has backed up. (Four: Thomas Jones, J.J. Arrington, Emmitt Smith and Edgerrin James. Despite being the backup, he has led the Buzzsaw in rushing three of the last four years. Sigh.) I obsess about this team, yet, in a way, I don't know them at all.

So I decided to try to fix that. I mentioned once on the site that I didn't even know any Arizona Cardinals fans, and beckoned any that existed and read the site to email me. Shockingly, a few emails actually trickled in. One of whom, who wishes to remain anonymous because he has a real job, emails us regularly about all matters Buzzsaw. He goes to "seven or eight games a year. I usually skip one of the preseason games because everyone who can leaves Phoenix in August, and then I sell or give away my tickets for December games if they don't mean anything. Which is every year. I've had season tickets myself for four years, but I've been going to games since the beginning. When they came to town I was ten years old. My Dad got season tickets, and we went to every game together until 1994. My dad didn't like new coach Buddy Ryan's attitude, and canceled the tickets when they hired him. From 94 to 02 I'd go to about 2-3 games a year. I got season tickets in 03."

So the guy's a real, loyal, season-ticket holding fan. I wanted to know what it's really like there. So I asked him.

—————————————-

Are there really more fans of the opposing team than of the Buzzsaw at the games? It looks that way on TV.

Yeah, but it's not as bad as it used to be. The new stadium has changed things quite a bit in that department. Obviously, going from 23,000 fans a game to 60,000 fans makes a big difference. There are still visiting teams that are well represented — last year's Cowboys and Bears games come to mind, as well as the Steelers preseason game — but I think those are just teams that travel well.

Gone are the days where you could go to the stadium on Sunday and get lower-bowl, sideline seats from the ticket window. For now, the Cards fans in the new stadium greatly outnumber opposing fans. Once the novelty of the new stadium wears off, and if the team continues to have double-digit losing seasons, season ticket sales will tumble and I imagine it might go right back to the way it was at Sun Devil Stadium.

So that's changed a bit. But the thing that still kills me is that visiting fans never, ever get harassed by people here in Arizona. I've been to other stadiums where you wouldn't dare wear the opposing team's colors, much less a jersey and some sort of headwear. I know this isn't Philly or something, but Jesus, can someone at least have a smart comeback to the screaming, mulleted Cowboys fan in the Bill Bates jersey?

At Sun Devil, there were times where the visiting teams' fans outnumbered Cardinals fans. The Cardinals would get overwhelmingly booed during introductions. When the cards were in the NFC East, and the cowboys came to town every year, the games would be near-sellouts with 75 percent Cowboys fans. Which makes sense, considering that Arizona was Cowboys country before the Cardinals came along.

The demographics here are a factor ... just about everyone (except me) is from somewhere else. So like you, Will, they don't lose their team allegiances. So there are always smatterings of locals who will come out and cheer on random teams like Jacksonville.

I can't believe I root for a team that was booed at home during player introductions. Is there a good vibe there? Does the team get a sense that the locals have their back?

True story. I went to the first home preseason game against the Texans this year. The Cardinals have a new pregame feature, the "keys to the game," a bullet-point list of things the Cards must do to control and/or win the game. It's displayed on the scoreboard and spoken by the PA announcer at full volume. It is done after team introductions, while both the Cards and their opponents are on the field.

It's a fine enough idea, getting the very casual Arizona fans at least mildly interested in the game. The problem is, all of the "keys to the game" were written in the negative.

For example:
"Don't let the other team score first," instead of "Score first."
"No turnovers" instead of "Control the ball."
That sort of thing.

So the players are standing out there, after all the anthems, introductions, fireworks, etc., and some douche PA announcer is telling them about all the things that could go wrong. Really gets a team fired up.

The starting defense promptly gave up a touchdown on an 85 yard drive, after a turnover on downs.

Sitting there, I realized this was the essence of being an Arizona Cardinals fan.

Are there wacky little local promotions that they have? Who's the local fan favorite that everybody loves? And what's the jersey most Buzzsaw fans wear?

Wacky promotions: They have the typical stuff at the games...the mascot shooting t-shirts out of a cannon, the randomly chosen fan who gets to try and throw a ball through a hoop, etc. Nothing really comes to mind about the things they do around town, which is probably because they don't do a whole lot of promotion around town. Promotions involve spending money, young man, and we can't have that (even while we were $10 million plus under the cap last year). Come to think of it, the prizes for their on-field promotions always suck ... like 5,000 frequent flyer miles or something.

Back when they were only selling 23,000 tickets a game, they came up with a different marketing slogan each year to try and drum up ticket sales. A couple years ago the slogan was "It's time to see red!" So they appreciate irony.

Fan favorite: I don't think a true fan favorite has emerged, but Leinart probably gets the most press. The local news always covers his various exploits around town. He's in a couple of low-budget local commercials. One of them captures the general apathy toward the Cardinals: Leinart's using a local credit union's card to make a purchase at a convenience store. The clerk doesn't believe he's Matt Leinart, so the clerk puts shoe polish under Leinart's eyes, like eye black, and then recognizes him. Leinart then asks for a "Cardinals discount." The clerk says, "nah, I'm really more of a Broncos fan." The Cardinals' starting QB gets disrespected in his own commercial. That about sums it up.

If there was a random role player who has become a fan favorite, in the Kurt Rambis or Craig Counsell mold, it would probably be Deuce Lutui. They always have him out doing local promotions and Public Service Announcements. ("Hi, this is Deuce Lutui for recycling...") That guy just looks jolly.

Jersey: At the games, the jersey you see the most is probably Pat Tillman. Fuckin' A right. A close second would be morbidly obese white guys looking sleek in Boldin and Fitzgerald jerseys. There are also a number of young ladies with bleached blond hair wearing light pink form-fitting Leinart jerseys, which may also be color of Leinart's actual "no-hit" training camp jersey. Seriously, the rising sentiment here is that the guy is kind of a douche. But I digress. Edge has some fans, and Neil Rackers also gets a lot of love. Only occasionally will you see a jersey that pre-dates 2005 (other than Tillman), but you know those are the "hardcore" fans. Plummer jerseys are here and there, and the occasional jersey of obscure former players (I'm looking at you, guy in the Timm "two m's" Rosenbaugh jersey) from the "Phoenix" Cardinals era.

You know, you've brought up a good point about Leinart: I just can't shake this feeling that the franchise savior is a complete douchebag. That's a terrifying feeling.

OK, so here's what I REALLY want to know: If the Buzzsaw went crazy and won the Super Bowl this year, I'd run down Henry Street here in Brooklyn naked, screaming about the Buzzsaw. It would be a breakthrough moment; I've always said that being a Buzzsaw fan, and watching all the horrible losses, will be worth it when they finally win it all. I will have earned it.

Will the town have that sense? Are there long-suffering fans like you and me who will cry in the streets? Or is it gonna be the Pink Hat Red Sox syndrome? (Or Pink Taco, if you will.) Paint a picture for me of what happens there if the Buzzsaw actually, you know, gets good.

Leinart: This could just be the tip of the douche-berg. Right now he just faintly smells of vinegar. But there seems to be a growing number of fans who think he's going to waste a lot of potential by trying to be a legend in his own mind. There's that rumor about him firing his representation because he was upset Super Bowl champion Peyton Manning hosted SNL and not him ... he values notoriety over on-field success. He showed up flat-footed at camp this year, after a well-documented off season of partying. And Travis Henry aside, I think he's way too casual about the whole baby out of wedlock thing; local news caught him in a lie about how "involved" he was with the kid, simply by talking to the mother and her family. I am glad we have him, but part of me thinks, in the long run, we might have been better off with the double-chinned, stoned-looking, staying-home-and-eating-a-bag-of-Funyuns style of Jay Cutler.

Super Bowl: People will go crazy here, but unfortunately in the Pink Hat Red Sox way. Phoenix is a very "new" city. The population has grown exponentially over the years. There are very, very few longstanding traditions here. This holds true for local sports; with the possible exception of the Suns, the "fans" are extremely fair weather. For example, when the Diamondbacks won the Series in 2001, the whole town went crazy. Everyone was a D-Backs fan. Three years later, when they lost 111 games, the BOB was an absolute ghost town. Fans are only recently starting to get mildly interested, but just because the team is playing well. It will be the same way with the Cardinals: if they win, everyone in town will talk about how big of a Cardinals fan they are, and how they have always been fans. But three years ago they had 20,000 fans at their games. Where were you then, Mr. Number One Fan?

On the bright side, if the Cardinals win the Super Bowl, at least there won't be any goddamned Bob Costas human interest stories about Jimmy Patrick O'Flannery, the 94 year old blind barber who's worked across the street from the Pink Taco for 82 years, and this is his beloved team's first championship. God I hated that in '04.

If they win, I too will run naked down Camelback Road. And like you, I will feel like I would have earned it.

________________________

You know what? I think I'm better of just enjoying the Buzzsaw from afar. I could lament that my celebration when they actually succeed will be a lonely one, but it will be mine, and unsullied by the Pink Hat Pink Taco fans.

Fortunately, it'll never happen, so I'll never need to worry about it.

Last year, we asked some of our favorite writers to opine why Their Favorite Team Was Better Than Yours. Ultimately, we found this constrictive, and it also might have killed James Frey. So this time, we've just asked them to just run free, talk about their team, their experience as a fan, their hopes, their dreams, their desires for oral sex. All our teams are now assigned; if you sent us an email and we didn't get back to you, we're sorry, and we accept your scorn. But today: New York Jets.

Your author is David Goodwillie, the author of the acclaimed memoir Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time, for which he was named one of the "Best New Writers of 2006" by members of the Pen American Center.. His words are after the jump.

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The fucking Jets. Seriously. Two years ago, they were supposed to challenge the Patriots for AFC supremacy, and they finished 4-12. Last season, rebuilding, they made the playoffs. Shockingly bad, surprisingly good, but never ever great. Not in my lifetime. Not yet.

I was one of the many who picked them to go nowhere last year. Injured quarterback. Retiring running back. New head coach and GM. Sure, most Jets fans were happy to see the backside of the Herm Edwards sideshow, but Eric Mangini seemed ill-suited for the job — a Belichick clone kicked off the muscular mothership for being out of shape. But a funny thing happened when Mangini arrived in New York. The Jets fell neatly into place. One by one, troublemakers like Ty Law and Justin McCareins were either shipped out of town or benched until they behaved. Those who remained began playing to their potential. And leaders emerged. Chad Pennington. Jonathan Vilma. Laveranues Coles. Mangini, it seemed, had inherited all of Belichick's stronger qualities (preparation, intelligence, an even temperment) and none of his weaker ones (the scary intensity, the door-knob personality, the stashed-away girlfriends). When Mangini appeared midseason on "Sesame Street" (a lovely counterpoint to the self-promoting Herm Edwards hour currently running on HBO), I knew the Jets had found their man.

But who are we kidding? The Patriots have won three Super Bowls under Belichick, and this year they look stronger than ever. And the Jets? In truth, no one has a clue. So far this preseason, the offensive has been fraught with controversy. Pennington has looked lackluster, and is clearly being challenged (though no one will admit as much) by the strong-armed Kellen Clemens. In the backfield, a similar competition is brewing between the already injured Thomas Jones, acquired in the off-season from Chicago (btw, how did the Bears win the NFC with Grossman and Jones?), and the flashy young speedster Leon Washington. But, as can only happen with the offbeat Jets, it's the offensive line that has stolen the headlines.

What the hell happened to Pete Kendall? The Jets' most reliable lineman signs a four-year contract last season, then suddenly holds out for an extra million. The last person to try that was Terrell Owens, and a few days ago Kendall met T.O.'s fate. Trading problem players is all well and good, but Kendall's sudden absence means that D'Brickashaw Ferguson and Nick Mangold need to come into their own right now. Like, next week. Otherwise, Pennington will be out for the season by October.

If the Jets make noise this year, it'll be the defense and special teams doing the shouting. They need some big games from the defensive line. They need Vilma and Eric Barton to have career years. They need first-round draft pick Darelle Revis (who remained unsigned for most of camp) to become a dominating cornerback as a rookie. And they need their Aussie punter Ben Graham and newly bulked-up kicker Mike Nugent to have Pro-Bowl seasons.

All of this might happen. And then again it might not. And that's the thing the Jets. They may be good. They may be bad. But over the years I've learned to be patient, so, like Pete Kendall, I'm holding out for something more. Greatness. Which means they'll probably trade me to Washington.

Last year, we asked some of our favorite writers to opine why Their Favorite Team Was Better Than Yours. Ultimately, we found this constrictive, and it also might have killed James Frey. So this time, we've just asked them to just run free, talk about their team, their experience as a fan, their hopes, their dreams, their desires for oral sex. All our teams are now assigned; if you sent us an email and we didn't get back to you, we're sorry, and we accept your scorn. But today: Cleveland Browns.

Your author is Monday Morning Punter, one of the mad minds behind Kissing Suzy Kolber. His words are after the jump.

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I don't know what it is about ridiculing Cleveland that gives me such a hardon. As a Bengals fan, I'm naturally inclined to find joy in bashing the Browns, either from writing verses that rhyme with "Winslow" or devising multiple ways of saying "You suck, Cleveland!" I mean, why show any respect to a franchise whose colors were inspired by feces, fresh vomit and semen? But, as an Ohio native, if that isn't the pot calling the kettle seal, I don't know what is. And so, I come today to praise the Cleveland Browns, not to bury them. In fact, they're a team with a rich history—one tied to the Bengals' very creation—and a semi-promising future.

This whole Bengals-Browns thing got started in 1962. Browns owner Art Modell, perhaps in a microcosmic precursor to buttfucking an entire city, canned Hall of Fame coach Paul Brown, the culmination of a bitter power struggle, perhaps fueled by forbidden gay lust that both men felt toward one another. The proud head coach packed up his shit, sold his stake in the team, and, like so many people who visit Cleveland, got the fuck out of town. He would later team up with Ohio's governor and lead a successful effort to bring an AFL franchise to Cincinnati. When the Bengals began play in 1968, Brown dressed his team in black and orange uniforms nearly identical to those of his former NFL club. After the merger in 1970, the Browns and Bengals were set in the same division, and a rivalry was born.

Paul Brown died in 1991. I don't know if he was actually gay or not. I hate his fucking kid though, Mike Brown. Cheapest fucking owner in the league, except for maybe Ralph Wilson. If I had three wishes, I would wish for (the first) a fur jacket, (the second) a flying car, and (the third) for Mike Brown to get run over by a garbage truck.

This is not the story of that garbage truck.

But anyway, some 25 years later, Modell packed up his shit and moved his organization to Baltimore, leaving a de-activated Browns franchise (complete with its eight league titles and 16 Hall-of-Famers) in his wake. Buying the rights to the franchise and resurrecting the team was the late bank magnate/rich bastard Al Lerner, who some people don't know actually helped Modell move the original organization out of town. Al Lerner was a Marine, just like KSK's own Matt Ufford. But the big difference is when Ufford does something nice, he only dies on the inside...

As Lerner rebuilt the organization, suggestions were sent from the League office: How about finally putting a logo on those damned helmets, they would ask. It really is a polarizing issue; most football fans either love the logo-less helmets or hate them. Or they're Ken Jennings, the Jeopardy! savant who is so full of shit that he thinks the field of orange actually is the logo. Lerner, in his wisdom, recognized the historical significance of being decal-free, and the team reprised its original look.

Ken Jennings? Yeah, lucky shot, dude. Herb Stempel is not impressed.

Hey, by the way, what the fuck was up with James Frey last year? I mean, this work isn't exactly the bee's knees but, goddamn, son. "The Super Bowl isn't going to happen. Maybe someday, but not now. I'm so sad. Girls won't talk to me. I burned my toast. Wah wah wah." What a pussy. I mean, if my johnson fell off rolled into a sewer (which it could; my foreskin is very aerodynamic), I still don't think I'd be that depressed. Dicks grow back, right? Right?

Hold on, what the fuck was I...oh yeah. So um, this second coming of the Browns hasn't really been super-awesome. Since coming out of that coma in 1999, they've already told two head coaches to pack up their shit, as the team has finished at or above .500 only one time in eight years. While some teams in this league seem content to just collect their revenue-sharing money and not stick any back into the product on the field, (I'm looking at you, Ralph Wilson), the Browns have made a plethora of investments that, simply, haven't realized gain. Tim Couch. Butch Davis. LeCharles Bentley. Kellen Winslow's bike. The list goes on.

To their credit, the front office still spent money this offseason. They snagged some nice personnel upgrades from their division rivals in free agency, including the versatile OL Eric Steinbach from the Bengals, as well as RB Jamal Lewis, who rushed for 1,132 yards and 9 TDs with the Ravens last season. Plus Ted Washington bought some fresh brass for the stripper pole in his basement. So there's that.

The Browns did have a great draft this past April. GM Phil Savage wisely spent his No. 3 overall pick on Wisconsin's Joe Thomas, a cornerstone left tackle that Browns fans were eager to welcome. The same could not be said for the posh Brady Quinn who, after being showered with praise for being so "pro ready," lacked the poise to wait in an empty green room before finally being selected 22nd overall, at quite a bargain. And if that wasn't enough, they also snagged CB Eric Wright in Round 2, giving the Browns three players with first-round grades, but also the Fat White Guy-Prissy White Guy-Black Guy With Legal Trouble trifecta. If none of them pan out on the field, maybe they could make Beverly Hills Cop 4.

A quick aside on Quinn, who may or may not have been packing someone else's shit before waiting to hear his name called this past April: Oh sure, he may possess all the physical attributes and throwing mechanics that have pro scouts masturbating in their motel rooms at night. But I look at that asshole and can't help but ask, This is your savior, Browns fans? The guy that spends more on hair care in a year than Parma's median income? He's the one that's going to dig you out of the doldrums of the AFC North? Really?

Fuck me, this preview is booor-ring! Did I really write this? I gotta be honest, I haven't read any of these all the way through this year. At least Frey's was short. That guy knows a thing or two about writing previews. I mean, this one's okay, you're getting some insight. I'm gonna beat the shit out of Chris Mottram the next time I see him. Then I'm gonna eat a sandwich. Hang on, stay with me, we're almost there...

Anyway, the front office can't win games. Negro Bowl excludee Romeo Crennell must shoulder the blame for the team's recent ineptitude; his club has neither momentum nor progress to show for his efforts over the past two seasons. His staff will be breaking in its third offensive coordinator in twelve months; former Chargers TE Coach/Next Great Offensive Mind Rod Chudzinski will literally try to produce chicken salad from chicken shit, inheriting a unit that finished 31st in total offense last season. Hehe. Unit.

It's probably worth noting that the Browns play in one of the NFL's better divisions; the AFC North will probably send two teams to the playoffs, as was the case two years ago. In contrast, the Colts play in a division that has had its other members finish above .500 exactly four times in the last five years. Ain't that some shit. It's not a bad deal for a team if they can get two games each year against Houston, Tennessee, and Ball State. This, however, is one luxury the Browns do not have.

Another luxury these Browns don't have is time. For all of its glorious past and promising future, this franchise is in dire need of a habitable present. The pieces may nearly be in place if this team can stay healthy. And after watching the Saints march out of nowhere to their conference championship game last year, I suspect this team might even be able to contend for a playoff spot in 2007.

Just kidding. They're fucking horrible. You suck, Cleveland!

Last year, we asked some of our favorite writers to opine why Their Favorite Team Was Better Than Yours. Ultimately, we found this constrictive, and it also might have killed James Frey. So this time, we've just asked them to just run free, talk about their team, their experience as a fan, their hopes, their dreams, their desires for oral sex. All our teams are now assigned; if you sent us an email and we didn't get back to you, we're sorry, and we accept your scorn. But today: New England Patriots.

Your author is Eric Gillin, editor in chief of Esquire.com and a founding editor of The Black Table. His words are after the jump.

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The People's Republic of China has the world's largest army, with 2.2 million troops ready for action, 1,400 fighter planes, 8,580 tanks and untold stockpiles of nuclear missiles. (In comparison, the United States, which spends more than 10 times what China spends on the military, has just 1.5 million troops and 7,650 tanks.) With a population of 1.3 billion people, a rapidly expanding economy, massive investments in American businesses and a government surplus of $180 billion, China is poised to kick some serious ass for a very long time.

And so are the New England Patriots, another mysterious dynasty with a completely foreign way of doing things, which also has a massive stockpile of talent entering this season. As everyone in the NFL is all too aware, the Patriots had the best offseason in franchise history, signing a once-unstoppable, big-ticket target (Randy Moss), the most versatile defensive player in the game (Adalius Thomas), an undersized possession receiver who gives the secondary fits (Wes Welker), and another wideout with solid hands (Donte Stallworth) who could emerge as a possible deep threat.

But the Patriots Republic of New England aren't like the New York Yankees — a stupid comparison some boneheaded sports commentators made over the summer. For one, football has a salary cap. And two, the Republic didn't have to throw around millions of dollars — players actively took pay cuts to be a part of their system, where everyone plays multiple positions, there is no I in team, and star bullshit is simply not tolerated. Compared to the NFL's capitalist swine, where "me first" players sign perfectly good contracts, only to suddenly decide they're underpaid two years later and hold out — the Patriots are a bunch of screaming Commies, with a defensive playbook that's the very embodiment of the Marxist adage, "From each according to his ability, to each according to his need." In China, people are nothing more than replaceable cogs in a vast machine — a mentality held by the Patriots management, which has no qualms about giving the boot to "stars" like Deion Branch.

There's a reason no one seemed all that concerned about Asante Samuel's hold out. There's a reason why Randy Moss threw away a two-year $20 million deal to make just $3 million for a single season. They understand that in the Patriots Republic, the individual player is not important, the system is. For every Ty Law New England loses, there's a Randall Gay waiting in the wings to step into the role. And the architect of this great leap forward is Bill Belichick, the Patriots' Chairman Mao, a man whose public statements invariably fall into one of the following three categories: Blatant propaganda, reverse psychology or out-and-out disinformation.

Belichick is a man whose separation from his wife was kept secret for a full year — he coached an entire football season! — until it became publicly known. This is a man who is known as "N.E. Coach" in Madden because he refuses to join the NFL Head Coaches Association. (He's the only coach who will not join.) This is a man who looks like he sleeps in (and chews on) the clothing he wears on game day. This is a divorced guy with nothing to lose and nothing left, a man so completely consumed by football, he is somewhere out there right now in a very dark room, watching film. Like an obsessive-compulsive in a Slinky factory, chronically restless, tinkering with his life's work, getting closer and closer to perfecting football's version of Socialism, an efficient, victorious machine that sublimates the individual for the greater good.

This idea of the greater good — a very Socialist notion — is what drives China as well. It's why businessman Zhang Shuhong killed himself after his toy company, Lee Der Industrial, was blamed for the recall of a million Mattel toys coated in lead paint. The notion of honor and public shame — not fines and suspensions — keep people in line in the Patriots Republic. (Those of you with Tivo and high-def — check out the Patriots assistants on the sidelines after a blown play. Zhang Shuhong didn't have anything on those dudes.)

And that's why this season is so compelling. The rest of the world isn't really afraid of China's economic might and military firepower — after all, the combined might of our European allies is just as powerful. It's the fact that the rest of the world doesn't have a fucking clue what they're going to do with it. So here's Bill Belichick. And he's adding an arsenal of explosive receivers and the best defensive free agent in the league to a core group of veterans who have won before and a quarterback entering his prime. What the hell is he going to do with all that?

That's why I'm not worried about the Colts, an already injury-plagued team that's going to have that classic post-Super Bowl 8-8 hangover season. I'm not worried about the Chargers, who will need a season to adjust to a new coach and a young quarterback. And I'm not worried about the NFC, where no one appears truly dominant yet. Honestly, I'm worried about injuries and a team whose shiny new parts might need a bit longer to become well-greased cogs in the machine.

With so many weapons and an entire country now rooting against the no-longer feel-good, no-longer underdog Patriots, the pressure on the Republic is palpable this season. Anything short of Total Victory will be a complete disappointment for the fans, for the organization and, most important, for Belicheck. There are no excuses. He has to win this season. Only one thing is certain:

If this team doesn't fucking win, he's going to run them all over with a tank.

Last year, we asked some of our favorite writers to opine why Their Favorite Team Was Better Than Yours. Ultimately, we found this constrictive, and it also might have killed James Frey. So this time, we've just asked them to just run free, talk about their team, their experience as a fan, their hopes, their dreams, their desires for oral sex. All our teams are now assigned; if you sent us an email and we didn't get back to you, we're sorry, and we accept your scorn. But today: Pittsburgh Steelers.

Your author is Matt Pitzer, fantasy football expert for USA Today Sports Weekly. His words are after the jump.

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I've had better decades. I grew up as a fan of the Washington Redskins, Baltimore Orioles and Washington Wizards (formerly the Bullets).

The Wizards used to be the perennial laughingstock, but they're the only ones with half a clue now. The Orioles have not had a winning season since 1997 (no rush, Peter Angelos).

But the one that hurts is the Redskins. I don't really care that Daniel Snyder loves to run through, and run off, his coaches or that he gives $30 million contracts to players such as Adam Archuleta and then cuts them a year later. What hurts is watching coach Joe Gibbs look like Steve Spurrier.

It is difficult to fathom that the Redskins are now four seasons into Gibbs' reprisal as Washington's coach. The notion that Joe Gibbs would not always be the smartest guy on the field . . . well, that was never supposed to happen. But here we are: 21-27 in his first three seasons, 1-1 in the playoffs after going 124-60 in his first 12 seasons — and 16-5 in the postseason.

Of course, a new season means new hope for the Redskins — and every other team in the league. Another year similar to three of the last four in which the Redskins had six or fewer wins could get Gibbs run out of town, most likely into another retirement. This one might be a little more forced than his first one, but the result would be the same.

Now, I might sound like the proverbial clueless fan, but I really do have hope. The NFC East basically has been ceded already as a two-team race between Dallas and Philadelphia. The Redskins are playing without expectations, which is sometimes the easiest way for a team to play.

One reason for optimism is QB Jason Campbell, a nice upgrade over Mark Brunell in that he can throw more than 15 yards downfield. All of the crossing routes and misdirection plays that coordinator Al Saunders loves need a little space to work. A deep passing threat is crucial to opening up the field and letting smallish receivers such as Santana Moss and Antwaan Randle El run free.

Now, don't get me wrong. Campbell will look like a second-year starter at times. He throws to the wrong place at the wrong time and has too much confidence in his arm strength in trying to fit the ball in tight spots. But as he learns what he can and can't do, he should become more dangerous as the year goes on.

Campbell already had one injury scare in the preseason and if he goes down, the season could be lost. As it could if Clinton Portis gets hurt again. Portis has had only one good and injury-free season in his three years in Washington (1,516 yards, 11 rushing TDs in 2005).

What Ladell Betts did last year in place of Portis might have been a fantasy miracle, but if you want a main guy for a full season and into the playoffs, Portis is the one. He is a more regular, bigger-play threat than Betts and Portis is the one who puts fear into defenses. But he already has knee problems; his health will go a long way toward determining how good the Redskins' offense is.

The other factor is the schizophrenic defense that slumped to 31st last year. LB London Fletcher, CB Fred Smoot and first-round pick S LaRon Landry were the key additions in an unusual approach to improving their pass rush, which generated only 19 sacks — last in the league. The point of adding Smoot and Landry was to improve coverage enough to let the returning rushers reach the passer.

It might not work completely, but it ought to help at least a little. There are too many competent veterans for this defense to be this bad again. And there is too much brainpower in the coaching staff for this team to keep losing this much.

Last year, we asked some of our favorite writers to opine why Their Favorite Team Was Better Than Yours. Ultimately, we found this constrictive, and it also might have killed James Frey. So this time, we've just asked them to just run free, talk about their team, their experience as a fan, their hopes, their dreams, their desires for oral sex. All our teams are now assigned; if you sent us an email and we didn't get back to you, we're sorry, and we accept your scorn. But today: Pittsburgh Steelers.

Your author is Don Spagnolo, a freelance writer and editor of Mondesi's House, a Pittsburgh sports comedy blog. He is also the owner of Steelcityauctions.com, a Pittsburgh-based sports memorabilia firm. His words (and pictures) are after the jump.

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Last year, I had the honor of writing the Deadspin preview of the defending Super Bowl champions. In a city that endured heartbreak after heartbreak ever since our daddy's Steelers won their fourth title, it was kind of a big deal to finally get over the top. To commemorate this occasion, I penned a 3,300-word valentine to my favorite team, entitled, "50 Reasons Why I Love the Steelers", covering all things from Whizzer White to "Drink Like a Champion."

The fruits of my labor? One of the most disappointing championship defenses in the history of organized sports. A 2-6 start. A loss to the 2-14 Oakland Raiders. Two losses at the hands of division rival Baltimore by a combined score of 58-7. And ultimately, the loss of our beloved Coach Cowher. Not the result I had hoped for.

For my next Deadspin preview, I was asked to write about the 2007 Pittsburgh Pirates. With the memory of the Steelers' season fresh in my mind, I took a slightly less optimistic angle, which resulted in "79 Reasons Why It's Hard To Be a Pirate Fan." As of the writing of this article, the Pirates sit with the second-worst record in the majors, on the way to their 15th consecutive losing season. I guess my preview didn't inspire them, either.

Asked to write the 2007 Steelers preview, I wondered about the angle that I'd take. Obviously, the major topic in Pittsburgh is new coach Mike Tomlin. After 38 years of Noll and Cowher, it's time for a rare fresh start for the organization. But to know where you're going, you need to know where you've been. So here are the 50 Biggest Stories in the Steeler Universe (on the field and off) Since Last Year's Preview hit on September 4, 2006. Steeler fans, let's hope that the results are exponentially better than 2006.

50. We found out what our old heroes are up to. Neil O'Donnell's a turf salesman. Yeah, that sounds about right. And Greg Lloyd, known for t-shirts that read "I Wasn't Hired for My Disposition" and "Real Men Are Black" while he played in Pittsburgh, turned up as a martial arts instructor in Fayetteville, Georgia. Nothing wrong with that, right? Well, if you consider his track record of accusations that he put a gun in his kid's mouth for bad grades in 2001, or that he put a gun to his wife's head in 2004...it's kinda scary. Luckily for Greg, he retired before the Goodell Era.

49. Jeff Hartings retired. The Super Bowl champion center walked away from football after the 2006 campaign to plan a non-denominational church along with former Detroit Lion Luther Elliss. Few people realize this, but the Steelers' legacy of centers is nearly impressive as their legacy of coaches. Since the mid-70s, the Steelers have primarily used only three centers: Mike Webster, Dermontti Dawson and Hartings. They have a combined 18 Pro Bowl appearances (Webster 9, Dawson 7, Hartings 2). So whoever gets the starting nod at center in 2007, be aware: You have quite a rep to live up to.

48. The Steelers signed Kevan Barlow. The Steelers are well-known as a conservative organization. So going out and signing a free agent running back who once referred to 49ers coach Mike Nolan as "Coach Hitler"...let's just say it was a bit surprising.


Barlow, shown preparing for his next career

47. The Steelers drafted a mascot. They still don't have cheerleaders, but the Steelers used a first-day draft pick on the first mascot in team history. His name is Steely McBeam, he bears a striking resemblance to a prominent member of their past, and his mere presence ensures hundreds of gay steelworker jokes aimed at Steeler fans around the world. A new member of the team gets ridiculed? Now I know how Browns fans felt after that first Brady Quinn picture hit the net.


Try and guess which one's the mascot

46. The Steelers draft punter Daniel Sepulveda. Leave it to the Steelers to draft a blue-collar punter that's not afraid to cover his own kicks. Look for him on a few segments of "Jacked Up" this season.

45. The Passion Party. The Steelers were 1-3 and going nowhere fast. And then came the October 15 dismembering of the Kansas City Chiefs by a score of 45-7. Little did we know that the Steelers would quickly lose this momentum and drop their next three games to fall to 2-6.

So where did this inspired victory come from? Well, as we would later find out, largely from the presence of a "Passion Party" convention being held at the same hotel as where the Chiefs stayed, and inevitably mingled with.

44. Michael Vick's one shining moment. It's been a rough couple of months for ol' Ookie. But the highlight of his 2006 season had to be his four-TD, 232-yard, 41-38 overtime victory over the Steelers on October 22. When you're making Ron Mexico look like Tom Brady, you know you're in the midst of a long season.

43. Steeler fans will buy a lot of crap, but they draw the line at used cigarettes. In late May, an enterprising Steeler fan scooped up Jack Lambert's discarded smoke after a New Jersey memorabilia show appearance and quickly posted it for sale on eBay. A curious blog nation followed the auction to see what lengths Steeler fans would go to in their pursuit of a piece of their hero. And after the $9.99 minimum bid failed to attract even one speculator, we had our answer.

The celebrity-used garbage market just isn't what it used to be

42. Dick Hoak retired. This flew under the radar of many, but it was a big loss when the Steelers running back coach retired following 45 years with the organization (10 as a player, 35 as a coach). Hoak has been around for every title and playoff win in the team's 74 seasons. He's tutored every Steeler running back you can think of, including Franco Harris, Jerome Bettis, Willie Parker and Walter Abercrombie. Upon the news of his resignation, Joe Paterno called to say that 45 years with a team is nothing compared to 125.

41. Big Ben got a new girlfriend. Leave it to Ben to date a Hero. The first rumors of Ben's budding romance with Missy Peregrym of Heroes started popping up in late February, and now it looks like they are an official couple. Natalie Gulbis, you're dead to Steeler Nation.

Ben Roethlisberger, slave to fashion

40. The Steelers continue to play charity basketball games. The Steelers have had an offseason charity basketball team since the 1960s. They play local organizations and raise thousands of dollars by living out their hoop dreams. Dismissing any notion that a player could get injured, the Steelers continue to draw marquee names to play in these games, including one Ben Roethlisberger. Local talk radio shows undoubtedly await a major injury followed by the inevitable knee-jerk "Why do these guys play in basketball games" debate the next day. But until that fateful day happens, we'll still be able to see clips from games, including this one of our star QB bricking a dunk about seven seconds in.

39. You can now buy a Steeler jersey with "Gay" on the back. Thanks to the selection of fifth-round pick William Gay. I'm going out on a limb and guessing these won't be huge sellers in the Steel City.

38. Mr. Rogers gets a statue. If there's one person who's achieved sainthood status in Pittsburgh, it's the guy who invented the Primanti's sandwich. But if there's another person who's held in such reverence, it's Mr. Fred Rogers, he of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood fame. So in May, it was revealed that our favorite neighbor would get the statue treatment in his hometown of Pittsburgh. But where would this $3 million statue be placed, you ask? In the obvious location: close to the South entrance of Heinz Field.

37. The Steelers drafted another tight end. The choice was Matt Spaeth, a John Mackey Award-winning tight end from the University of Minnesota. He's 6'7", 265 pounds, and a natural for the Steeler basketball team. Let's all say it together, Pittsburgh: "This is the year we throw to the tight ends."

36. The announcement of the 2007 schedule. The Steelers' disappointing 8-8 season was rewarded with not one, not two, but five primetime games in 2007: Sunday nighters against Denver and Cincy, Monday nighters against Baltimore, Miami, and the Thursday night NFLN matchup against the Rams. We'll see old coaches (Kenny Whis and Russ Grimm) in week four, old linebackers (J-Peezy) in week twelve, and old foes (New England) in week fourteen. But we'll all be looking forward to week one, when Mike Tomlin is welcomed to the NFL by the always intimidating Cleveland Browns.

35. We found out that Bill Cowher likes to drink his beer on the rocks . Yes, the man who not only coached, but grew up in the land of Iron City Beer, waters down his brew with a few ice cubes. It's probably better that this bit of information came out after he resigned, because he would've lost infinite credibility points with the Yinzers had this been public knowledge earlier.

34. The Steelers release Duce Staley, thus ending one of the most bizarre careers in Steeler history. Staley came in with a bang in 2004, going for 90+ yards in six of his first eight games, and prompting Steeler fans to immediately run out and blow some hard-earned cash on a "22" jersey. Unfortunately, Staley frequently found his way to the injured list, playing just 15 of the 32 games in 2004 and 2005. Somehow, Bill Cowher found a way to get Staley into uniform for Super Bowl XL, which made Steeler fans everywhere question the motive for Cowher's loyalty. When his release seemed inevitable in 2006, especially following a preseason in which he ran for 92 yards on 42 carries, Staley made yet another cut. He was the Steeler that wouldn't go away. But in December, the Duce was finally dumped, ironically because of the presence of closet-defecating Najeh Davenport. Thus ends the Steelers career of Duce Staley. Oh well. We'll always have one enduring memory of Duce, week after week:

33. Ike Taylor tried to sell his '86 Monte Carlo. As you will later see with more prominent examples, several members of the Steeler family had auction fever in the past year. Unfortunately, Ike's was ultimately unsuccessful, as his pimped 1986 Monte Carlo failed to sell on eBay. The car was customized at a cost of a reported $60,000. I am shocked and amazed that not one Steeler fan would consider this a sound investment.

This is the kind of thing you pour money into after signing a $22 million contract

32. Heath Miller's 87-yard TD catch vs. Miami. You might live for 100 years and never hear of another Steeler tight end scoring an 87-yard touchdown, as Miller did on opening night against the Fighting Sabans. Heck, you might live for 100 years and never hear of another Steeler tight end catching a pass. But hopefully by the end of the season that joke will be as useless as Daunte Culpepper was in week one last year.

31. The dismissal of Chris Gardocki. I got a lot of mileage out of the now-released Steeler punter's running storyline. Every single time Gardocki would drop back for a punt, an announcer glossing over his game notes would tell us that Gardocki's never had a punt blocked. Forget the fact that he was awful, he never had a punt blocked. Let's just say I was fully behind the Daniel Sepulveda draft choice.

30. Lynn Swann plays beer pong. In October the nation was treated to the breaking news that former Steeler and potential Pennsylvania Governor Lynn Swann picked up a beer pong ball and took a shot while trolling for votes in a parking lot. Was it the difference in his loss to incumbent Ed Rendell by approximately 800,000 votes? I hope not, for his sake.

29. Even in a down year, we're still better than Cleveland...as witnessed by two of the Steelers' eight wins coming against the Browns. Actually, I can relate to Browns fans, as witnessed by uttering just two words of a perennial disappointment I'm familiar with: Pittsburgh Pirates.

28. ...but we were Pwned by the Ravens. And it was UGLY. 27-0 and 31-7. Yikes. I'd say the 27-0 game was worse, with the tiebreaker being their nine sacks of Big Ben and 22 yards rushing for Willie Parker. But that 31-7 loss on Christmas Eve ruined the next day for many a Steeler fan.

27. Ben Roethlisberger's Excellent Offseason Adventures. Big Ben lead the league in interceptions in 2006. To remedy this, Ben's offseason is an attempt at leading the league in celebrity appearances and frequent flier miles. A sampling of his travels:

Bahamas- Michael Jordan Golf Tournament
LA- Guest host "Best Damn Sports Show, Period"
Seven Springs Resort- "Winterfest Weekend with Povertyneck Hillbillies"
Las Vegas- Jerome Bettis' birthday party @ Caesar's Palace
Florida- ESPN the Weekend
Pittsburgh- Sprint "Power to Play" Mini-camp
Miami- Dan Marino Golf Tournament
LA- Guest, "Last Call with Carson Daly"
Phoenix- Muhammad Ali Celebrity Fight Night
Rancho Mirage, CA- Kraft Nabisco Celebrity Golf Championship
LA- ESPY Awards
Lake Tahoe - American Century Celebrity Golf Championship
New York - The Jim Kelly Celebrity Golf Classic
Virginia - William & Mary Football Camp
Pittsburgh - Highmark Celebrity Classic for Children
Tampa - Derek Jeter Celebrity Golf Tournament

26. Richard Seigler is arrested. Who's Richard Seigler? I don't know either. But apparently he was a linebacker on the Steelers' roster. In May he finally gained some name recognition, as he was charged with running a prostitution ring in Las Vegas. Given the fact that he was Richard Seigler and not an actual player that could help the team, he was immediately released by the Steelers.

25. Our first round draft pick has less than a week to establish himself. Linebacker Lawrence Timmons of Florida State was the Steelers' first-round pick in the 2007 draft. After signing and showing up to camp on time (with Drew Rosenhaus as his agent!), Timmons immediately found himself in the doghouse of countless Steeler fans due to his somewhat fragile physique. Within days of the start of camp, Timmons was sidelined by a groin injury and complaining about two-a-days. Talk show callers are already comparing him to colossal Steeler bust and 1991 1st round draft pick Huey Richardson. Again, this is only after a few days of training camp. Patience is not a virtue in Western Pennsylvania.

24. Steeler fans disrupt Jim Furyk at the US Open. During the final round of this year's open, held at Oakmont CC (right outside of Pittsburgh), Jim Furyk was gaining momentum. Furyk grew up in nearby Uniontown, and the biased crowd was getting behind the local boy. And he was loving it...a bit too much. Furyk was so fired up by the "Here we go Jimmy, here we go!" chant (a familiar refrain of Steeler fans) that he pulled his drive to the left on the 17th hole, effectively killing his chances of victory.

23. Jeff Reed. An internet legend. Period.

Remarkable - he still manages to connect with a portly Steeler fan while trying to hit on a woman

22. The most boring Monday Night Football game of all time. Perhaps you remember it: September 18, 2006. Jaguars 9, Steelers 0. It was the 2006 debut of Ben Roethlisberger, just two weeks removed from an appendectomy. And it was nearly unwatchable. Beyond Roethlisberger's two sacks and two interceptions, the Steelers' 26 yards rushing on 14 carries was the lowest in Bill Cowher's 15 years. No, not even a guest appearance by Dwyane Wade in the booth could save this one.

21. The Larry Zierlein incident. In May, profootballtalk.com broke a story claiming that Steelers offensive line coach Larry Zierlein inadvertently forwarded a pornographic e-mail to high-level team employees throughout the NFL, including unamused commissioner Roger Goodell. After several days of speculation, the Steelers finally acknowledged the incident but did not fire Zierlein. Naturally, the question I received over and over from my readers upon the news breaking was, "Do you know what was on the video, and could you forward it to me if you have it?"

Needless to say, most Steeler fans weren't too outraged. And no, I don't have it.

20. Ben Roethlisberger sells his truck on eBay. While many Steeler fans wish Roethlisberger would've sold his motorcycle before June 12, 2006, Roethlisberger decided to part with his 2004 Yukon Denali "Rookie Truck" on eBay in May. The hammer fell at just over $35,000 - a bargain considering the window sticker was $53,610.

Look, it's a quarterback who doesn't engage in dogfights

19. Kordell Stewart punks an Average Joe. Does anyone ever remember Kordell Stewart playing so confidently and cocky as a Steeler? If he did, he might still be in the NFL and not be punking guys on Pros vs. Joes.

18. Charlie Batch's coming out party. No, it wasn't a John Amaechi-style coming out party. But it was powerful. In place of Ben Roethlisberger on a national stage in week one, Batch went 15-for-25, with 209 yards and three touchdowns in a 28-17 win. In the process, Batch solidified his place as the most popular man in Pittsburgh: the backup quarterback.

17. Big Ben hangs out with Donald Trump. In January, I shared a little-known scoop with the nation: our quarterback spends significant time with the President of the Rosie O'Donnell Haters Club. Ben said that they golf, gamble, and talk at least once a week. They must also share an entrepreneurial spirit, because Roethlisberger revealed this information in an interview to pitch his Big Ben BBQ sauce (which is actually quite tasty, by the way).


Use this BBQ sauce and you get a nice, healthy glow

16. Joey Porter's pit bulls. Before we knew about Michael Vick, our NFL pit bull knowledge was limited to Joey Porter. In September 2006, two of Porter's pit bulls escaped and killed a mini pony on a neighboring farm. To my knowledge, though, Porter's property did not include a series of several buildings in the backyard painted black to match the color of night.

15. Bill Cowher sells all of his useless crap. All Kaye Cowher wanted was an auction company to come in and sell off the items that didn't make the cut for the Cowhers' North Carolina relocation. "Don't make it a circus", she said. And then the internet got word of the news. Faster than you can say "The Jaw," pictures of Cowher's junk were all over the internet. Over 1,500 collectors of Cowherabilia congregated in-person and online to bid on Bill's second-hand goods, including a bed, a pool table, and a statue of Bacchus. The most amazing sale price was $550 for a Steelers ice bucket, undoubtedly outdated once Bill accepts his new job.

Buy the very TV where Bill agonized over countless AFC Championship losses

14. Jerome Bettis opens a restaurant. In June, Jerome Bettis Grille 36 opened its doors in downtown Pittsburgh. The 500-seat eatery features the Signature Jerome 36 ounce Steak, a fried cheddar and meatloaf hoagie, and a bar offering 36 different martinis, 36 different beers and 36 different vodkas, in honor of the number Bettis wore while playing for the Steelers.

Wait, go back. A meatloaf hoagie? It sounds like that creation could possibly be more beloved by the city than anything Jerome accomplished on the field.

13. The Oakland Loss. On October 29, Steeler fans were forced to sit through a scary performance in a 20-13 loss to the lowly Oakland Raiders. This was one of only two games that the Raiders would win in 2006, and they didn't even score an offensive touchdown en route to their 20 points. A questionable decision by Bill Cowher to start Ben Roethlisberger, recovering from a concussion just a week before, was second-guessed ad nauseam. After analyzing Ben's line of 4 INTs (2 returned for TDs) and 5 sacks, I'd say Bill guessed wrong in this instance.

12. Dr. Richard Rydze. Say you have a guy who's a team doctor for an NFL franchise. This man then buys $150,000 worth of HGH and testosterone on his personal credit card in 2006. One would think that would be a bigger story, no? Well, don't expect to see a 10-part expose from Bob Ley just yet, because for some reason this story has been off the map in our country's witch hunt of all performance-enhancing drugs. He said he doesn't give them to players. That's good enough, right?

11. Troy Polamalu got paid. The colorful but quiet safety landed a five-year, $33 million contract, with a signing bonus of over $15 million. Hopefully he'll use some of that money on a long-overdue trip to SuperCuts.

10. Alan Faneca didn't get paid. Have you heard that Alan Faneca's unhappy with his contract? Stick around, he'll be telling you again in another five minutes. Yes, the constant bellyaching of offensive lineman Alan Faneca has become quite the Steeler storyline. Why does Faneca want a new contract? Maybe because other NFL owners are spending money on lineman as if they're filming a remake of Brewster's Millions. His next employer knows well in advance that if nothing else, they're getting a team player who handles himself professionally.

Faneca will forgo a mouthpiece in favor of the pacifier in 2007

9. The Steeler impersonator is ordered to 90 days in jail. How can you prove that people are crazy about the Steelers? The fact that a guy can impersonate 3rd-string QB Brian St. Pierre and backup tight end Jerame Tuman to pick up women and con them out of money should be a good indicator.

8. Former assistants Ken Whisenhunt and Russ Grimm were hired by the Cardinals. Matt Leinart, Edgerrin James, Larry Fitzgerald, Anquan Boldin, and now a few legitimate NFL coaches. THIS is the year the Cardinals get over the top. Seriously!

7. The arrival of Brady Quinn. We're just a few months into the Brady Quinn Era, and it's making the Kellen Winslow Era look boring by comparison. If you thought Browns fans were excited about their selection of Quinn, Steeler fans were 1,000 times more ecstatic. We're greatly looking forward to watching him get knocked around by our defense twice a year. And the photos...oh, the photos...


From the bottom of my heart, on behalf of Steeler fans everywhere, I thank you for your drafting, Phil Savage.

6. Knocking Cincinnati out of the playoffs. The high-and-mighty Bengals, with the fans that tell us year after year how superior they are to the lowly Steelers, needed to beat said Steelers in the final game of the 2006 season. If not, the playoffs would be non-existent for the Bengals, but hey, they're used to that. In what turned out to be Bill Cowher's final game as Steeler coach, Ben Roethlisberger threw a 67-yard touchdown to Santonio Holmes in overtime, ending both teams' seasons on New Year's Eve.

My only question going into the Bengals' 2007 campaign is what their excuse will be for why they don't get it done. In 2005, it was all blamed on Kimo von Oelhoffen, for knocking Carson Palmer out of their first-round playoff game. How quickly we forget that A. Cincinnati had the lead at the half, well after Palmer went down, B. Cincinnati was playing with the home-field advantage, and C. In the 2001 AFC Championship game, a nobody named Tom Brady was knocked out of the game, which New England somehow, someway, managed to win...on the road. In 2006, their excuse was the "killer" schedule that the NFL gave them. What's it going to be in '07? Chris Henry's suspension?

What irritates Steeler fans the most is the arrogance of Bengal fans. They've had one winning season since 1990, then they get a few decent players and all of a sudden they claim to be the team to beat in the entire NFL. Remember, this Bengal core hasn't even won a playoff game. This would be like the Pirates winning the NL Central in 2005, losing in the first round, missing the playoffs in 2006, then declaring they're the team to beat in 2007. And we all know how ludicrous that sounds. And not just because the Pirates will never make the playoffs in our lifetimes.

5. Joey Porter is released, signs with Dolphins, and gets arrested. The parting of Joey Porter and the Pittsburgh Steelers was bittersweet. Porter was a key cog in the defense, but he'd clearly lost a step. He was the vocal leader of the team and a Super Bowl champion, but his play no longer backed up his mouth. Steeler fans had grown weary of his antics, his pre-game, rolled-up jersey, his constant trash talking. It was time to part ways.

When the cord was finally cut, it didn't take long for the Miami Dolphins to come in and splurge $32 million and a $12 million signing bonus on the man also known as J. Peezy. In his eyes, the Steelers did him a favor, because there's no way he would have scored that kind of loot in a black-and-gold uniform.

But Porter's offseason had just begun. In March, he was cited for punching Bengals tackle Levi Jones at a blackjack table in Vegas, proving how much the Bengals get under people's skin, even when they're no longer Steelers. Porter was fined nearly $150,000 for the incident.

As late as May, Peezy's likeness was spotted on an anti-snitching billboard in Pittsburgh, ironic because of the fact that he was now a Miami Dolphin who had run afoul of the law. So does his stance on snitching mean a potential conflict with Carmelo Anthony sometime down the road?

Nothing says "be a star" like snitching on a criminal

4. Willie Parker. The Steelers' feature back compiled 1,716 yards of offense (7th in the NFL) and 16 touchdowns (3rd in the NFL) in 2006. He's only 26 years old, he's a sculpted 209 pounds, and because he didn't play much at North Carolina, he doesn't have the wear and tear that most backs his age show. He has game-breaking ability, as his two 200+ yard games last season will attest to. All but a few of the teams in the NFL could only hope to have a running back as productive as Parker.

Of course, we live in Pittsburgh, and sometimes we like to make things difficult. Like persisting the idea that our starting running back has to be a 250-pound bowling ball because "that's the Steeler way", as if a Jerome Bettis Tree existed. Of course, if that tree did exist, the Steelers would then be entitled to having that player on their roster.

An example: ever since the Falcons drafted the 254-pound TJ Duckett in 2002, ESPN's John Clayton has appeared on Pittsburgh talk radio shows telling us how the Steelers were interested in acquiring Duckett. Duckett's career peaked in 2003 in Atlanta, with a whopping 779 yards on the ground. After Clinton Portis went down last year for Washington, Duckett barely moved off of the bench. He's since moved on to Detroit. But don't worry, I'm sure John Clayton will tell us at some point this season that the Steelers are still interested.

Steeler fans, I speak to you collectively: if you're not on board with Willie Parker yet, for some reason, it's not too late. We don't need the "phat back". I'll take 1,716 yards and 16 touchdowns any season.

3. A horrendous defense of the Lombardi Trophy. I know we had some adverse conditions last season, but the so-called "defense" of the Lombardi Trophy was embarrassing. The 2-6 start, the loss at Oakland, the losses against Baltimore, the turnovers, the interceptions, the lack of discipline, the failure to field a simple punt again and again...it was enough to drive a fan mad. The late rally to finish 8-8 was noble, but playing with the same urgency earlier in the season would have probably landed the Steelers in the postseason.

2. Ben Roethlisberger's appendicitis and subsequent 2006 season. Actually, this happened just a few days after last year's preview went live. Following his broken nose, upper and lower jaw, eye socket bones, and concussion suffered during his June 12 motorcycle accident, we then got word that Ben's appendix had to come out, and right before the home opener in September. It was at that point that many thought Roethlisberger's deal with the devil had expired. His 2006 season was an absolute disaster in every sense of the word, from the league-high 23 interceptions to his 75.4 passer rating.

Yes, many have written off Ben Roethlisberger. Peter King ranked him 17th among NFL quarterbacks in 2007, behind Jon Kitna, Vince Young, and Tony Romo. Of course, Peter then goes on to tell us that his rankings value winning, and he conveniently forgets that Roethlisberger ranks behind only Manning, Brady and Favre in playoff wins among active QBs. It must be all that Starbucks coffee going to his head.

And admit it, as lame as the segment is, explain how a 25-year-old quarterback with a Super Bowl ring and a Hollywood girlfriend doesn't even make the cut of Who's Now?

Ben, I haven't given up on you. I haven't forgotten 15-1. I haven't forgotten the Super Bowl. And I remember the accident, the appendectomy, and the concussion. I know you'll be back to your old self in 2007.

1/1A. Bill Cowher Resigns/Mike Tomlin Hired. When a team changes coaches for the third time since 1969, that immediately takes the prize as the #1 story. Bill Cowher's urges to leave football and spend more time with his family finally got the best of him, as he stepped aside following the 2006 season. Now Bill can relax in peace with Kaye and the kids...and film Fast Cars and Superstars: Gillette Young Guns Celebrity Race...and work for CBS Sports...

But seriously, Cowher has the right to do whatever he wants. He gave us a championship and more years of competitive seasons than the Pirates will give us in the next 500 years. We hate to see him go. But this is the NFL, and we have to move on.

And move on we have, with a man named Mike Tomlin. He's the no-nonsense new sheriff in town, and he's already making his presence felt. He's called out veterans, he's planned 15 two-a-days, and he's eaten Pasta a la Ben at Roethlisberger's favorite restaurant. My favorite part? He's a writer, too. His "The News" segments, famous from previous coaching stints around the NFL, will now be typed up and circulated at camp.

Says Hines Ward: "If you loaf on a play, you end up in The News. If you fumble a ball, you're going to end up in The News. If you throw a pick, you end up in The News. He calls it like he sees it."

Accountability is something that this team sorely lacked in 2006. Needless to say, it's back with a vengeance in 2007. Players are competing for jobs again. The defensive and offensive unitas are mixing it up at camp, and the coaches are letting them go at it. The fire that was temporarily gone appears to have returned. If my thoughts are correct, the Steelers won't have to hire another coach for a long time. And my Deadspin preview curse will hopefully come to an end.

Last year, we asked some of our favorite writers to opine why Their Favorite Team Was Better Than Yours. Ultimately, we found this constrictive, and it also might have killed James Frey. So this time, we've just asked them to just run free, talk about their team, their experience as a fan, their hopes, their dreams, their desires for oral sex. All our teams are now assigned; if you sent us an email and we didn't get back to you, we're sorry, and we accept your scorn. But today: Green Bay Packers.

Your author is Jeff Bercovici, an editor for Portfolio. His words are after the jump.

———————————-

Brett, I owe you an apology.

I have broken faith. I have sinned against you in my heart.

A year ago at this time, I was saying unkind things about you to other Packers fans. Things like "It's time for him to retire before he ruins his legacy with another 30-interception season." And: "Every season he plays just postpones our next Super Bowl hopes by another year." And: "He's the only quarterback alive whose decisionmaking gets worse as he gets older."

Brett, I'm sorry. All those things I said about you? They were true. Face it: You're just not the same quarterback you were 10 years ago, and I don't mean physically. Half the time, you don't seem to have the heart for a whole 60-minute game. You'll squander a perfectly promising drive by throwing deep into double coverage, for no apparent reason other than to cut the tension. (Holmgren would've kicked your ass for it. Sherman didn't, which is probably why you keep doing it.) Then, you'll make that ridiculous little-boy grimace-face, like "How could this have happened?" which makes me want to reach through the TV screen and shake you. Afterwards, you'll say something preposterous about how your mistakes weren't really mistakes because you were just trying to "make something happen."

But you know what? None of that matters. After last season ended, I realized something had changed. I wanted you to come back. And it wasn't because you'd managed to lead the Green Bay to a perfectly respectable and better-than-expected 8-8 finish. Nor was it because this season's prospects look even better, with a core of talented young defensive players (Aaron Kampman, Cullen Jenkins, A.J. Hawk, Nick Barnett) who should guarantee the Pack a playoff spot no matter what happens on offense. Nor is it because, seriously, Aaron Rodgers?

Brett, I don't care about those things. I don't care if we make the playoffs or not. I don't care if you throw 40 picks this year, and you make that stupid face every time. If I wanted to watch someone execute perfect plays, I'd root for Peyton Manning. I don't. I want to watch the guy who got called for a late hit against the Vikings after decking the cornerback who'd picked him off. The guy who got knocked silly in the Jets game, then popped up and threw a touchdown he didn't remember afterwards. The guy who played the best game of his life the night his dad's body lay cooling on a slab — turning a throwaway Raiders game into the most poignant night of my career as a fan. If the other stuff — the insane decisions, the dumb risks, the misguided belief in an ability to turn any broken play into six points — if all that comes along with the package, so be it. I just want it to last as long as possible.

(Confidential to Coach McCarthy: First time he lobs an easy one into the waiting arms of a safety, you have to tear his fucking head off. It's what Holmgren would do.)

Last year, we asked some of our favorite writers to opine why Their Favorite Team Was Better Than Yours. Ultimately, we found this constrictive, and it also might have killed James Frey. So this time, we've just asked them to just run free, talk about their team, their experience as a fan, their hopes, their dreams, their desires for oral sex. All our teams are now assigned; if you sent us an email and we didn't get back to you, we're sorry, and we accept your scorn. But today: San Francisco 49ers.

Your author is Rick Chandler, the associate editor of Deadspin. His words are after the jump.

———————————

First of all Will, your waterboarding is scheduled for September 10. That's when the 49ers open the season against the Sawdust that is the Arizona Cardinals (play Taps here). Sadly, your pain will begin shortly after kickoff, continue without common mercy or decency until halftime, then resume in particularly humiliating fashion as the hounds are released in the third quarter.

Don't let Will fool you with his aw-shucks Midwestern act. He may pretend to think that his own team is terrible and will not win a game, but it's all just a passive-aggressive farce. He roots for the Cardinals with the wild-eyed intensity of a monkey that has been hooked to electrodes by the nipples, and God help you if your team gets in his way. But sadly, The Cardinals suck gigantic bantha balls. Leinart? A dead man. Whisenhunt? Dead. Neidermayer? DEAD.

Bitter much? You bet. Arizona beat us twice last season, despite the existence of this. In fact, the 49ers haven't beaten them since December 2004. It's payback time, in a big, way. We will use Neil Rackers' bones to make our soup.

So that's two wins we can count on. As for the rest of the schedule, it's baby steps, Bob. This is a very frustrating year to be a 49ers fan, actually. By most estimations they're just one year away from greatness, bringing to mind an analogy involving a 17-year-old cheerleader which I won't use. Oh 49ers, you tease. Yes, despite what you may have heard, you're not going to see San Francisco up in that class with the Bears and the Saints this season, and the Super Bowl is right out. But I'm not ruling out the playoffs, because the rest of the NFC is so dysfunctional. And the NFC West even moreso. Esteemed and prickly Chronicle columnist Ray Ratto is fond of saying that the flags at Monster Park often wave in every direction at once, including up. The 49ers similarly could end up anywhere, winning the division at 10-6, or coming in third at 6-10. (Fourth is not an option: See Graph 1).

I'm looking at the schedule, though, and I'm having a hard time figuring out where those 10 wins are going to come from. Of their first five games, for instance, the 49ers are at St. Louis and Pittsburgh and home against Seattle and Baltimore. This is essentially the same team that Mike Nolan fielded last season, with a new coat of paint and less one pretty good offensive coordinator (Norv Turner). The key newcomers:

• The 49ers earn kudos for signing free agent cornerback Nate Clements from Buffalo, although his eight-year, $80 million contract evokes visions of another expensive SF acquisition, Barry Zito. Clemens was the most sought after defensive player on the free agent market, but people are comparing him to a young Ronnie Lott, and that's a big stretch.

• Darrell Jackson comes over from the Seahawks to become the team's No. 1 wide receiver. Arnaz Battle will be the other starter at a position where the 49ers are unusually deep.

• Rookie Patrick Willis (Mississippi) has done so well that he was elevated to the starting lineup on Monday, supplanting Derek Smith at weak inside linebacker, moving Smith to strong inside linebacker. Brandon Moore, who led the team in tackles last season with 114, is the odd man out. Of course, promoting someone after having just played the Raiders is fraught with peril, but we'll deal with that as it comes.

So, defense much improved. But remember, last year it was practically unwatchable on that side of the ball. They're rebuilding from the ground up, and that takes time.

For the first time in a long time, the 49ers actually have competition at several positions. For instance, rookie Joe Staley is pushing Kwame Harris at right tackle. And Joe Baas is doing the same to Justin Smiley at right guard. Shawntae Spencer and Keith Lewis, starters last season at cornerback and safety, respectively, are now backups to Clements and fellow newcomer Michael Lewis.

And then there's the 49ers' two greatest assets: Quarterback Alex Smith and running back Frank Gore. Smith has improved more than anyone outside of San Francisco is willing to acknowledge; his performances in brief stints against Denver and Oakland in the preseason were outstanding. Gore is coming off a broken hand and should be ready for the opener.

Something else you should know: The City of San Francisco has named the playing surface Bill Walsh Field, so it's now officially Bill Walsh Field at Monster Park at Candlestick Point. Learn it. Know it. Live it.

And they'll be wearing their throwback '80s Super Bowl-era duds in the opener. Fear the Thick White Stripe. Oh yes, fear it, Will. The 49ers are who you thought they were. Crown 'em.

Last year, we asked some of our favorite writers to opine why Their Favorite Team Was Better Than Yours. Ultimately, we found this constrictive, and it also might have killed James Frey. So this time, we've just asked them to just run free, talk about their team, their experience as a fan, their hopes, their dreams, their desires for oral sex. All our teams are now assigned; if you sent us an email and we didn't get back to you, we're sorry, and we accept your scorn. But today: The New York Giants.

Your author is Roger Director, author of the upcoming I Dream In Blue, a book about following the 2006 New York Giants, which will be released on August 28. (Check out the the book's MySpace page.) His words are after the jump.

—————————————-

That thunder you hear booming off the Hudson Valley palisades on summer afternoons was ascribed by early Dutch settlers to mythic bowlers knocking giant ten-pins around in the northern mountains. But today we know the truth. That's the sound of the New York football Giants. In camp. And back in pads.

Skeptics abound. Not me. The offense is going to be about as hellacious as a black Ford150 Supercab rumbling down a two-lane blacktop and packed with big boys, shotguns bristling out every window. The defense will be nasty. Especially when Mike Strahan realizes the only way to pay for the tumescent lifestyle of his choice is to remove the baby bottle from his gap-toothed mouth and put back on the Big Blue uni.

Everyone knows what a smart, talented athlete Dave Diehl is, and installing him at left tackle on the O-line and heaving last year's starter, Luke Pettigout, onto the roadside only proves that the new GM Jerry Reese is far from stupid.

Can Brandon Jacobs replace Tiki Barber? No. He's a beast - a match for Jason Bourne and Jet Li rolled into one. But by the third game, when Jacobs is in the intensive care unit, having willingly taken five years' worth of hits, we'll have the guy who can replace Tiki — Reuben Droughns — in the backfield. Twice a thousand-yard runner. And tough. Jerry Reese genius step no. 2, getting Droughns from Cleveland.

On defense. Will the Giants lose three all-pros to injury like they did last year? No way. Moving Mathias Kiwanuka to LB will more than replace LaVar Arrington. Do you think the new defensive coordinator from Philadelphia, Steve Spagnuolo, can stir up one mind-fucking party cocktail out of Mike Strahan, Osi Umeniyora, Kiwanuka and Fred Robbins? They're going to make every opposing quarterback's existence about as risky as window-shopping in a Baghdad market

In fact, a quick look at the Giants' schedule this year shows one thing: We've got a great shot at going unbeaten. For starters, the schedule's easier than last year. Beyond that, I learned something last year, while working on my book, I Dream in Blue, that no one's ever written about. Within the league, after seeing the monstrous machine Jerry Reese is assembling, Giants' opponents are so scared of playing them they are having trouble finding enough guys who aren't too chickenshit to take the field. I predict this:

Sept. 9. Giants 35 Dallas 15

Physicians find a near lethal dose of thorazine in Dallas QB Tony Romo's blood supply when he is found slumped, semi-conscious, half-dressed, in his car, still in his driveway, five minutes before game time. Meanwhile, the Giants' offense blows a few new holes in the Texas Stadium roof.

Sept 16. Green Bay 10 Giants 41

An expert FBI hostage negotiator is rushed into the Packers' dressing room 15 minutes before game time, where Brett Favre is holding Tony Kornheiser at razor point in a toilet stall. Favre threatens to drown Kornheiser if he's made to go out there and face the Giants. Jeremy Shockey! catches his third TD pass of the season, a 99-yarder on which the Packers' defender can be heard tearfully begging, "Please don't let me catch you, Mr. Shockey."

Sept 23. Giants 47 Washington 14

Hours after this game in the nation's capital, as the Giants step off the train on their return to New York, fullback Brandon Jacobs finds Redskins' All-Pro safety Sean Taylor, squashed and stuck to his knee. "I thought I'd scrubbed him off after the game in the shower," Jacobs tells the New York Post's Steve Serby, "but I guess I missed a spot."

Sept. 30. Philadelphia 7 Giants 24

Eli Manning throws his seventh and eighth TD passes of the season, both to Plaxico Burress. Manning and Burress have become the most lethal QB-receiver tandem in the league. The Giants capitalize on several Eagles penalties, including a 15-yarder when officials discover Philadelphia coach Andy Reid's two sons running a flourishing black market gun and drug bazaar on the team's bench.

Oct 7. Jets 20 Giants 23 (OT)

Jets' coach Eric Mangini takes heat for giving the Giants' offense the ball at the beginning of overtime. Tapes of his sideline conversations reveal Mangini hysterically repeating, "All work and no play make Jack a dull boy," to his frantic coaches upstairs in the booth. Eli Manning's passer rating is ahead of Ben Roethlisberger's, Phil Rivers' and Rex Grossman's thus far. Big Blue is 5-0.

Oct. 15. Giants 37 Atlanta 10

As the teams line up for the opening snap, Antonio Pierce whispers across the line of scrimmage, "We're going to put you guys in a rape stand and do to you what Mike Vick did to his dogs," and the game is over quickly. The Giants' defense picks up its league-leading 18th sack of the year.

Oct. 21. San Francisco 21 Giants 48

Amani Toomer catches 13 passes. The defense sacks 49ers QB Alex Smith six times. Kiwanuka runs one fumble back for a touchdown and is on his way to a Pro Bowl season. At the start of the second half, Smith, desperate to avoid any more pounding, is found in a blond wig and silicon breast inserts impersonating a 49ers Gold Rush cheerleader.

Oct 28. Giants 42 Miami 10

Not until they are at 40,000 feet, midway across the Atlantic, are Dolphins players told they're not just visiting London on vacation, but actually have to play the Giants, and the plane erupts in panic. Coach Cam Cameron is severely injured, trampled by the Dolphins' starting defense, which rushes the cockpit in a vain effort to force the plane to turn around.

Bye Week.
Mike Strahan is arrested having sex with Brooke's Astor's moldering two month old corpse. But coach Coughlin is willing to overlook Strahan's flaunting of the NFL's good conduct clause "for the good of the team."

Nov. 11. Dallas 0 Giants 2

The first "forfeit" in the league's modern era. On Friday before the game, Texas Ranger search parties with bloodhounds and Geiger Counters locate the abandoned Cowboys team buses at Groom Lake, north of Las Vegas, otherwise known as Area 51 to UFO buffs. America's team has disappeared. The Bush administration and the Pentagon refuse to discuss the team's disappearance, claiming national security concerns about Area 51. But Giants' fans know why the 'Pokes went missing before visiting the Meadowlands.

Nov. 18. Giants 27 Detroit 13

Manning has his fourth 400-yard-game of the year. His QB rating is 111.3; Peyton's is 87. The Lions lure 75-year-old Hall of Fame linebacker Joe Schmidt out of a local shuffleboard tournament to play when no one else will suit up.

Nov. 25. Minnesota 6 Giants 31

Sinorice Moss scores two TDs on kick returns. Big Blue cruises to a 11-0 record getting ready for its game against the Bears, the team that beat them last November in the Meadowlands and sent the Giants into a slide from which they never recovered.

Dec. 2. Giants 24 Chicago 0

Too terrified to scramble in the pocket, Chicago QB Rex Grossman begins 'taking a knee' with 8eightminutes left in the first quarter. The Bears' LB Brian Urlacher meets Brandon Jacobs head-on at the goal line late in the first half, and post-game forensic testing of the spatter patterns in the end zone result in Urlacher's cause of death reading: "Tried to tackle one big motherfucker."

Dec. 9. Giants 38 Philadelphia 9

All week long the Eagles talk smack about ending the Giants' unbeaten streak. But the night before the game Donovan McNabb begins serial, uncontrollable projectile vomiting and is too weak to play. Shockey! snares his 14th TD pass of the year and would have a 15th, but he stops one yard short of the goal line to slug Brian Dawkins in the ball sack. Eli Manning is asked to host Saturday Night Live. He tells them to fuck off, he's got some football to play.

Dec. 16. Washington 17 Giants 58

The Redskins are late coming onto the field because after the pre-game so many were crowded around team chaplain Msgr. Liam O'Herlihy begging him to offer them Last Rites. Many of the Redskins appear wild-eyed and dazed, foaming at the mouth, a few on their backs flailing their legs crazily as the Giants kick off. Tom Coughlin does the Top 10 List on Letterman: Top Ten Reasons Why I Still Won't Laugh. The Giants are 14-0.

Dec. 23. Giants 41 Buffalo 0

On Thursday before the game, the Bills call in renowned psychologist Dr. Phil. At a nationally broadcast team meeting, Dr. Phil tells them that it's okay for a grown man to weep and sob. With Dr. Phil looking on, the Bills vote not to play the Giants. A national uproar ensues. Condoleeza Rice, a huge football fan, intervenes with Coach Coughlin - saying she thinks the game should be played. Behind the scenes, the Secretary of State pleads with Tom Coughlin and Eli Manning and Jeremy Shockey! and Plaxico Burress to take it easy on the Bills. They respond: "Fuck you, Condi."

Dec. 29. New England 10 Giants 50

The Giants complete a historic undefeated season. During the game, Pats QB Tom Brady is heard offering up various super models and actresses he knows for sexual favors if Giants defenders won't grind his ass into the dust on every play. The Giants' final TD is scored by Gibril Wilson, who blocks a field goal and carries the ball, with the placekicker's leg still attached to it and dragging behind him, 87 yards for a touchdown. Afterwards, a triumphant Tom Coughlin still won't smile, but tells me, "Hey, asshole, you picked the wrong Giants' season to write about in your stupid book."

Last year, we asked some of our favorite writers to opine why Their Favorite Team Was Better Than Yours. Ultimately, we found this constrictive, and it also might have killed James Frey. So this time, we've just asked them to just run free, talk about their team, their experience as a fan, their hopes, their dreams, their desires for oral sex. All our teams are now assigned; if you sent us an email and we didn't get back to you, we're sorry, and we accept your scorn. But today: The Atlanta Falcons.

Your author is Jay Busbee, who runs the Atlanta sports blog Right Down Peachtree, and contributes to ESPN.com, Esquire.com, Bluff, and a bunch of other places. His words are after the jump.

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So, how was your team's offseason?

Atlanta's kind of sucked. Former head coach Jim Mora Jr. talked himself right out of a job. New hire Bobby Petrino had to face accusations of jumping ship at Louisville. Jonathan Babineaux beat his girlfriend's dog to death. A woman was allegedly raped at the Atlanta home of Patrick Kerney, who just left Atlanta to sign with the Seahawks. And then there was...yeah, that.

So you can understand why Falcons owner Arthur Blank might long for the days of his former gig running Home Depot. When the feds bust dogfighting rings, they don't go after the guys who supplied the lumber for the rape stands. At recent press conferences, the once-spry Blank has looked as beaten-down as a lame-duck president at the end of his second term. (Matter of fact, you could say he's aging in...dog years! Wackity schmackity doo!)

He's not alone. The city of Atlanta's suffering through the late stages of Vick Fatigue; you can hear the weariness in the words of the columnists and talk-show hosts who've dissected every element of this case more obsessively than geeks working over a "Lost" season finale. But things aren't as divided as you've been led to believe; even the town's most reliably pro-athlete voices are suggesting that maybe, just maybe, The System has a point on this one.

You can forgive Atlanta for thinking it's snakebit, though. Think back to when Atlanta actually made it to the Super Bowl, back in 1999. The night before the game, Falcons safety Eugene Robinson, hours removed from accepting an award for "high moral character," tried spreading the love with an undercover vice cop. Then, two games into the next season, with the Falcons projected as a strong NFC title contender, running back Jamal Anderson blew out an ACL, torpedoing the Falcons for seasons to come.

We all thought it would be different with Vick, but it wasn't. And now, it's going to take years for Atlanta to get rid of the Vick stain. A check of Google News—the first step for hack snapshot journalism—reveals that while "Atlanta Falcons" brings nearly 15,000 hits, running the same search without Vick's name brings one-tenth that amount.

But that's for the future. Let's talk now. Forgotten in the whole Vick Affair was the fact that Petrino wasn't exactly enamored of Vick's skills from the get-go. Persistent rumors—remember, repeat a rumor three times, and it becomes a fact—held that if Vick put together another of his dazzle-and-fizzle seasons, combining hairsbreadth backfield escapes with bounce-pass third-and-longs, the Falcons would have been looking in other directions anyway.

Ah, but would they have looked in Joey Harrington's direction? Would anybody other than Harrington's mom? Like it or not, here we are. Harrington's a competent enough pocket passer, and right in line to helm the very embodiment of Simmons' Ewing Theory.

What about the rest of the team? Further proof that God must have lost money on the Falcons last season came right after training camp began, when Warrick Dunn, one of the NFL's unimpeachable good guys—he gives homes to poor people, for chrissake—went down with a back injury, costing him most of the preseason. Fellow backfielders Jerious (rhymes with "Carry us!") Norwood and Ovie Mughelli (tastes divine with a light cream sauce and cracked pepper), along with rookie Jason Snelling, may be a fantasy owner's worst nightmare, but they should prove a decent enough ground attack, even if they can't continue the three-year-old streak of leading the league in rushing.

The receiving corps is another concern. The Falcons signed ageless almost-wonder Joe Horn to combine with a couple make-or-break guys in Roddy White and Michael Jenkins. Alge Crumpler's one of the best tight ends in the game and should make for a nice little security blanket for Harrington. Petrino favors an attack that spreads the field, which means both receivers and runners will have room to move—hopefully downfield.

Even with the loss of Kerney, the defense should be solid enough, particularly with DeAngelo Hall and Lawyer Milloy deep and Keith Brooking centering the linebacker corps. Rookie defensive end Jamaal Anderson—no, not that one—should make an immediate impact, and hopefully not rupture an ACL doing so.

Fortunately for Atlanta, the schedule's got its share of sixteenth-seed creampuffs, including the Vikings, Texans, Titans and Cardinals. Which is good, because it's not like we'll get any kind of breaks in our own division. Federal prosecutors must have studied Tampa Bay's defense for tips on how to run Vick to ground. The Carolina Panthers don't much sweat the two annual I-85 showdowns. And we can't even kick around New Orleans anymore. Time was, the Saints were the Gary Cherone to our Sammy Hagar; the A.J. to our Paulie. As crappy as we were, we always knew we had New Orleans to cushion our fall. No more.

So, hey, in the end, who knows. Atlanta won't go 4-12, like plenty of people are predicting, but unfortunately, they won't be throwing a scare into the '72 Dolphins either. And maybe somewhere, ages hence, we'll all look back on this supreme misfire in the grand Falcons saga and manage a rueful smile. Some of us from lockdown, perhaps, but still.

Last year, we asked some of our favorite writers to opine why Their Favorite Team Was Better Than Yours. Ultimately, we found this constrictive, and it also might have killed James Frey. So this time, we've just asked them to just run free, talk about their team, their experience as a fan, their hopes, their dreams, their desires for oral sex. All our teams are now assigned; if you sent us an email and we didn't get back to you, we're sorry, and we accept your scorn. But today: The Detroit Lions.

Your author is Michael David Smith, who covers the NFL for Football Outsiders, the New York Sun, AOL FanHouse and Pro Football Talk. His words are after the jump.

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This will be the Detroit Lions' shortest season ever.

When you're a Lions fan, in the Matt Millen era, the season doesn't last 16 games. It lasts until you've decided it's just too painful to keep watching and you can't take it anymore. Now, you might think that after all the pain we've suffered during the Millen era, we Lions fans would have decided, permanently, to stop watching about five years ago. But Lions fans aren't that different from the fans of the other 31 NFL teams. We allow ourselves to get swept up in the belief that this year could be our year, and when Week 1 of the NFL season begins, we're as excited as everyone else.

But every year we eventually realize that we don't have a team worthy of our excitement, and during the Millen era, that realization has come sooner and sooner each season. In 2001, we Lions fans didn't give up until December. Sure, the Lions started the season 0-12, but we just couldn't believe that Millen had made our team - which went 9-7 in 2000, the year before Millen became general manager - the laughingstocks of football. We kept watching in disbelief, week after week, as the Lions became the subjects of the only funny jokes Jay Leno has told this millennium.

In 2002 the Lions were almost as bad as they were in 2001, but the first-round draft choice that year was Joey Harrington. We just knew Harrington was our Quarterback of the Future, and he managed to keep us interested until Thanksgiving.

In 2003 we had new head coach Steve Mariucci to keep us going until mid-November. Mooch was such a nice guy that he just had to succeed. All successful football coaches are nice guys, right?

In 2004, the Lions teased us by starting 4-2, and that guaranteed that they'd keep us optimistic until at least Halloween. Yeah, they went 2-8 the rest of the way, but at least they waited until December to reach double-digit losses.

The last two years things have changed a little bit, and we've had no choice, in both 2005 and 2006, but to give up on the season in Week 2. In both years, we watched our Lions get their butts kicked up and down the field by the Bears in the second game of the season. Do you realize that the Lions have played the Bears in Week 2 for two straight years, and the combined score is Chicago 72, Detroit 13? As a Lions fan living in Chicago, I had to give up on the season after both of those games.

But this year it's going to be even worse: This year, Week 1 of the NFL season matches the Lions against the Oakland Raiders, the only team worse than the Lions last year. And that means a loss in Week 1 would cause us to abandon all hope.

And really, is there any doubt that the Lions will lose Week 1? These are the Lions we're talking about.

Sure, they've added rookie wide receiver Calvin Johnson. He looks great. And yeah, Mike Martz is our offensive coordinator. He makes things exciting. And Jon Kitna insists the Lions will go 16-0, and he'll throw 250 touchdown passes, while Roy Williams believes the offense will average 75 points a game. These guys are optimistic.

But these are the Matt Millen Lions we're talking about, and having a few guys around who make things exciting doesn't change the fact that the rest of the roster is as devoid of talent as NFL rosters get. Although drafting Johnson is one of the few Millen decisions I support, consider this: After selecting Johnson in the first round of this year's draft, Millen chose Michigan State quarterback Drew Stanton in the second round. At a press conference that day, Millen told the assembled reporters, "You guys are probably more familiar with him than I am."

It's not surprising that Millen would draft a quarterback and know less about him than the Lions' beat writers do. This is, after all, the general manager who made Cory Redding the highest-paid defensive tackle in the NFL this off-season. I like Redding, but seriously: This is the NFL of the salary cap era, when every dollar you spend on one player is a dollar you can't spend on another player. Do you think anyone on earth, other than Millen, believes Redding deserves to be the highest-paid defensive tackle in the NFL?

Other problems in Detroit include the once-promising young running back, Kevin Jones, who suffered a foot injury in December that might not allow him to run at full speed at all in 2007. And an offensive line that was the worst in the league in 2006. And the fact that their best defensive player last season, cornerback Dre Bly, was shipped to Denver because, it was reported at the time, "he doesn't appear to fit in Rod Marinelli's defensive scheme." Yeah, talented players just don't fit with what they're trying to do in Detroit.

So, as a Lions fan, instead of previewing the whole 16-game season, let me just tell you what will happen in Week 1: The Raiders are going to beat the Lions, with quarterback Josh McCown (a former Lion) leading Oakland to the victory. Starting 2007 with a loss to the only team that was worse than the Lions in 2006 will tell us Lions fans that the season is hopeless. And all we'll be able to say for the rest of the year is the same thing we've been saying for five years: Fire Millen.

Last year, we asked some of our favorite writers to opine why Their Favorite Team Was Better Than Yours. Ultimately, we found this constrictive, and it also might have killed James Frey. So this time, we've just asked them to just run free, talk about their team, their experience as a fan, their hopes, their dreams, their desires for oral sex. All our teams are now assigned; if you sent us an email and we didn't get back to you, we're sorry, and we accept your scorn. But today: The Oakland Raiders.

Your author is ScottVanPeltIsMyHero, a commenter, a DeadOn contributor and writer for A Kind of Blog Where Books are Discussed. His words are after the jump.

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Hello, I'm ScottVanPeltIsMyHero, and I'm an Oakland Raiders fan.

I always feel I need to confess when I talk about football with someone, and I know why. I know what the majority of people think of the team and its followers and the image that the media (I'm looking at you, WWL) continues to perpetrate, and I hope to change that image, one person at a time. Now if you met me, you probably wouldn't think of me as Raiders fan: I'm quiet, bookish, generally soft spoken with no outstanding arrest warrants or large tattoos. But make no mistake, silver and black is in my veins.

I was 10 years old when the Raiders came back — nay, came home, to Oakland, and I knew their return was going to affect me (living in the nearby small town of Alameda) in a big way that first time I went to the Oakland Coliseum to watch football. The first few years were like the very beginning of a very long-term relationship, a hesitant period of getting to know one another. I wasn't a fan when they were in L.A. because they had never been my team, though my dad would always talk about them since he grew up a fan during the 70's, Stabler-led glory days of the Raiders.

But as I got older, the bond strengthened as I became aware how the Raiders represented where I was from. I mean, the team headquarters was five minutes from my house; it was pretty easy for the team and my sense of home to get mixed up. Seeing players at the supermarket, being able to walk to the bay and see the Coliseum, it was then I realized how close to home this stuff hit, how it was a part of me, and I've never looked back.

And now here I am. It's been great at times (from about 1999-2002) and rough at other parts (from 2003 on), but it's always been rewarding in its own way.

Most people will tell you that the Raiders aren't going to do much this season, that they'll be lucky to win four games and are guaranteed to finish dead last in the AFC West. While I'm not saying the Super Bowl is a certainty, I do think they're a little better than everyone thinks.

We all know the problems of last year, that Art Shell wasn't equipped to coach an NFL team, that Tom Walsh was better equipped to cook Denver omelettes and that the offensive line looked more like a sieve than a cohesive protection unit.

But so many of those problems stemmed from the coaching staff, specifically the three-headed monster of Shell, Jackie Slater and Irv Eatman, that you didn't get to see what kind of talent the players actually had. And that's why most of the turnover occurred on the offensive coaching staff.

Enter 31-year-old new head coach Lane Kiffin, former co-offensive coordinator for USC and a man whose only NFL experience was as a defensive quality control coach for the Jacksonville Jaguars. Thirty-one is mighty young for a NFL coach, especially one with so little pro experience, but Al Davis has been right before when selecting young, inexperienced head coaches. With Greg Knapp, Tom Cable and Rob Ryan all on the staff, there will be plenty of NFL coaching experience around him. Cable is an important addition, and hopefully his introduction of zone and cut-blocking techniques to the offensive line can get it working and prevent Robert Gallery from fully assuming the title of 21st Century Tony Mandarich. The key to whether the Raiders do anything this year is how the offensive line plays. It's that simple.

They have a young defense that made huge strides last year and retained most of the players from that squad, though their run defense still needs improvement. Nnamdi Asomugha has become a top-tier cornerback, Kirk Morrison looks poised to make a similar leap at linebacker and Michael Huff had a quiet but solid rookie year at safety. These young players will serve as the core for a defense that the Raiders will build around for years to come.

Talent does exist at the skill positions on offense, even after shipping Randy Moss to New England. The problem was that the talent was mired underneath the poor coaching and the underachieving offensive line. Jerry Porter, Ronald Curry and Lamont Jordan can play, but not if the line isn't blocking and the game plans are antiquated. That's why the majority of the moves occurred on the coaching staff. This year will be used to evaluate what's actually there since last year's performance doesn't give an accurate portrayal.

The draft was where the Raiders made their big moves. They traded for Josh McCown (to keep the seat warm for JaMarcus Russell) and Mike Williams (who, if Kiffin can motivate him, could be a good offensive weapon) and unloaded Moss for a 4th round pick. Besides drafting Russell, the Raiders also got a couple of strong yet slightly unheralded offensive weapons in TE Zach Miller and RB Michael Bush. Miller should (finally) give the Raiders a consistent pass-catching threat at TE, and Bush, a Heisman candidate before breaking his leg, has real talent and should help solidify the backfield along with Jordan and newly acquired Dominic Rhodes.

So what do I think the Raiders can do next year? An immediate resurgence to win the AFC West? Despite the hope last year's Saints squad fills me with, it's not realistic. What very well could happen is that the team grows and learns how to play together even more, eventually challenging contending teams down the stretch and maybe stealing a game or two against a tough team. December games against the Colts and Chargers will provide them with that opportunity.

The road back is going to be long, and that first step is a manageable one that can eventually lead the Raiders back to prominence, or at least relevance.

Last year, we asked some of our favorite writers to opine why Their Favorite Team Was Better Than Yours. Ultimately, we found this constrictive, and it also might have killed James Frey. So this time, we've just asked them to just run free, talk about their team, their experience as a fan, their hopes, their dreams, their desires for oral sex. All our teams are now assigned; if you sent us an email and we didn't get back to you, we're sorry, and we accept your scorn. But today: The Philadelphia Eagles.

Your author is AJ Daulerio, who writes the Cultural Oddsmaker column for this fine establishment and is a staff writer at Philadelphia Magazine. His words are after the jump.

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The two most pressing questions facing the Eagles this season are simple:
1) Will Donovan McNabb's balky legs hold up ?
2) Most important, how involved will Andy Reid be this year, considering his family troubles?

Injuries happen, obviously, and the Eagles have been prepared to handle most situations, including the loss of a franchise quarterback for significant stretches of time, three out of the last four seasons. Last year, McNabb's injury seemed to be the death knell for a promising year, especially since he was, at the time of his injury, on track to be the best quarterback in the league. But even before he was injured, the Eagles hit a standstill. Their defense suddenly looked old. Their offense looked inept. After 12 weeks of slumbering capped off by a performance against the Colts which saw them give up, oh, 9 jillion yards on the ground , it was obvious that problem needed to be solved. So Dawkins woke up, Trotter took a breather, Michael Lewis took a seat, and suddenly, holes were clogged, sacks were made and a defense that played on its heels for the first half of the season was suddenly rejuvenated.

They ran the ball more, and Brian Westbrook started showing just how invaluable he is. And, yes, Jeff Garcia did his part as well. That homo always has a seat at the Daulerio table.

But the majority of that salvation came through coaching. And Andy Reid had to devote an enormous amount of time into that type of tinkering to save a season that was quickly headed to Shitsville. That overtime came at a price: At home, his family was imploding and, most likely, he didn't know the severity of it until it was too late. With two sons facing some serious personal and legal issues this year, it's obvious Coach Reid has to make a priority shift and delegate some responsibility. Unfortunately, that added responsibility will most likely fall into the chunky lap of Eagles assistant head coach Marty Mornhinweg . If Mornhinweg doesn't try to think too much, I'm surprisingly comfortable with him stepping up and taking a little more control. Hopefully, Jeffrey Lurie will keep on top of him every single day by simply handing him a sheet of paper that states "No, Marty, we don't want the wind." In fact, as soon as there's an overtime situation, Mornhinweg should be dragged off the field by security, duct-taped and not released until the game is completed. Or, at least, until after the coin toss.

My mother and father went to training camp in Lehigh again this year. My father, emboldened with a sense of responsibility thanks to the favorable response he received from last year's preview, did his best to come up with even more of his thoughful on-the-scene reporting and cogent analysis.

"I tried to get hit in the head with a football," he said. " This girl got hit in the head when Akers was kicking field goals, and they gave her the ball. So I stood behind the goal posts for a while trying to get hit."

Thank you?

"No problem. I didn't get hit, though. So, I didn't get a ball. I was talking the cheerleaders though. Two of them were African-American. One of them was a real dazzler."

Good for you. So, any stand outs from camp so far?

"We saw that Jean-Claude guy again. He's feisty."

Max Jean-Gilles. Right.

"Yeah, and Sheldon Brown almost put a hit on Hank Baskett like he did to Reggie Bush last year. He let up though. He probably would've killed him."

That's good...

"I really was hoping for something out of Bunkley. But he seemed like he was getting man-handled every time he was out there."

Right. But Eagles PR hand-job Dave Spadaro thinks otherwise.

"Really? I should read that. Oh, and your mother took pictures."

Great!

Anyway, mom's not Annie Liebowitz. Most of the photos she took from their day at camp looked like this:

That's my father in the sweet hat. I'm hopeful this junk removal company sees his raw potential as a spokesperson.

Regardless of the photos, he made an effort. And efforts like this should be rewarded. I could only think of one reward suitable enough for him:

MAMULA...

Yes, that is a photo of yours truly and one Mike Mamula, who is inexplicably dressed in a tuxedo. I found Mamula at a Lonestar Steakhouse inf Voorhees, N.J. We had an early dinner together last night. Needless to say, I had trouble keeping my head from exploding the whole time, thanks to the dumbfounding surreal nature of this situation.

"Iced tea or coke?" that was the first thing Mike Mamula said to me. We sat down and with the country music playing, the Jersey August mugginess, the restaurant seemed even emptier than usual at 4:30 in the afternoon. Empty in spirit, that is. And then, there was Mamula: Smiling, affable, seemingly ready to hang out for an hour and answer questions that I, idiot Eagles fan, assumed he gets asked all the time. Like "Do people treat you badly in the city? It seems like everybody dogs you?" and watched him respond to dopey remarks like "You know, if you did take steroids, it probably would've given you that extra second to sack the quarterback...". Yep.

And, Mamula, sitting there, in a tux, about to go judge a local Dancing With the Stars contest didn't even flinch. If he does get these questions all the time, he doesn't care. He's got a gorgeous wife, twins, a house in the Main Line, and, apparently, all the self-respect in the world. Nothing I said was going to impact him at all. Half of our conversation didn't even involve any pertinent journalism-y questions. We just...talked.

I even told him about how my father used to call and bash him on 610.

He smiled. "He's passionate!" Mamula said. Then he offered to go out to his car, get a photograph and sign it for him.

Mike Mamula, MAMULA, is probably one of the most genuinely kind people in the world — and I'm not saying that just because he could break me in half with his thumb. Okay, maybe a little bit. But, honestly, he was very generous with his time and patiently sat there as I stammered through some annoying questions. He even talked about the infamous junk-showing incident that allegedly happened in Lehigh during the summer of 1997. Kind of. The more formal q-and-a style interview can be seen over at PhillyMag.com tomorrow.

Yes, I've started blogging on a somewhat regular basis at The Daily Examiner. Philadelphians, please stop by whenever you can. We'll walk through this crazy season together...

Last year, we asked some of our favorite writers to opine why Their Favorite Team Was Better Than Yours. Ultimately, we found this constrictive, and it also might have killed James Frey. So this time, we've just asked them to just run free, talk about their team, their experience as a fan, their hopes, their dreams, their desires for oral sex. All our teams are now assigned; if you sent us an email and we didn't get back to you, we're sorry, and we accept your scorn. But today: The Jacksonville Jaguars.

Your author is Dan Shanoff, who blogs daily and with remarkable shallowness at DanShanoff.com. His words are after the jump.

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One year ago, in this space, I announced my newfound allegiance to the Jaguars. I was inspired by my interest to write a Deadspin NFL team preview; I really didn't care which team, and the Jags were available. Of course, I couldn't write the preview without rooting for the team, and I didn't have an active NFL allegiance. Result: Instant Jags fandom.

It became an experiment to determine whether there is really all that much difference between "Super Fans" and "Sorta Fans." (Short answer: There isn't. The real hurdle is "Fan/Not a Fan," rather than degrees of fandom. Just ask Pats fans, 90 percent of whom didn't register their "die-hard" fandom until the 2001 season.)

But in the process, I grew to love "my" Jags, sort of like the way you grow to love a girlfriend after sleeping with her on the first date. Since we last talked about it, let me catch you up on what has happened with the Jags - and why there is even more reason for excitement as I head into Jags Fandom, Year 2:

WHUPPED THE CHAMP'S ASS

The good news: Absolutely annihilated the future Super Bowl champion Colts, 44-17, in the type of Week 14 win that makes you sincerely believe that your team has a chance at postseason success.

The bad news: Three weeks (and three straight losses) later, the Jaguars meekly finished the season 8-8 - and on the outside looking in at the playoffs.

Looking ahead: Football Outsiders is so baffled that the '06 Jags could perform so well yet so inconsistently that they have them picked as one of their breakout teams for '07. You might quibble with F.O. on some things (I don't), but their track record on projecting overall team performance for the upcoming season is unmatched.

THE "SPACE-DOCK" BACKFIELD

The good news: Maurice Jones-Drew is a revelation at running back, a 5-foot-6 ass-kicking, stat-racking, draftnik-debunking, fantasy-rocking pinball who put up 15 TDs and nearly 1,400 yards combined rushing and receiving yards... as a rookie. Who's Reggie Bush?

The bad news: If you fantasy-drafted Fred Taylor last season, anticipating him finally having a healthy season, only to see all of his TDs go to MJD. Not that I'm bitter.

Looking ahead: What sucks as a dilemma for fantasy owners rules in real life. Taylor and MJD are the poster pair for the hot new NFL trend to split the "feature" RB role (particularly near the goal line). It hedges a team's risk and doubles their strategic options. And, consequently, it makes fantasy roster decisions an increasingly maddening process. In honor of Deadspin commenters and the Jags' backfield, I'm dubbing the strategy the "Space Dock Platoon." Because, like its real-life counterpart, you are effed either way.

LEFTWICH? IT COULD BE MUCH WORSE

The good news: QB Byron Leftwich is as healthy as he has been in years, in a contract year and paired with a trigger-happy new offensive coordinator (Dick Koetter of Arizona State) who seems to get along with Leftwich fabulously.

The bad news: Coach Jack Del Rio seems to hate Leftwich, to the point that it was an open secret that Del Rio would have liked the team to draft Brady Quinn. Brady Quinn! (I'm ready for Del Rio to go. The only thing less inspiring than the Del Rio Era would be replacing it with the Tice Era.)

Looking ahead: For those of us who consider ourselves Leftwich fans, the fact that the best QB competition that the team could find to pressure Leftwich is Tim Couch shows that the job is Leftwich's for as long as he is healthy enough to waddle onto the field. (Yes, Leftwich remains so plodding that he makes Drew Bledsoe look like Vince Young.)

THE BEST NICKNAME IN FOOTBALL

The good news: The defense should be even better than last year, with the addition of first-round pick Reggie Nelson, affectionately known on Florida Gators message boards as "RFN"... as in "Reggie Fucking Nelson"... as in "Fuuuuck! Did you just see that play by Reggie Nelson?" When your new safety is so jaw-dropping spectacular that nothing less than the "F-word" can articulate it, you have something special there. (As opposed, say, to Brady Quinn, drafted one pick later than Nelson and more likely to earn the nickname "Fucking douchebag.")

The bad news: The Jags still play in the brutal AFC, where they will have to beat out the Pats, Colts, Chargers or Ravens to escape the Wild Card round (and out-place the North runner-up, West runner-up, VY and the Mangenius just to MAKE the playoffs).

Looking ahead: One year later, I'm still a believer. Here was my litmus test: During the Yahoo Bloggers' League fantasy draft, I was set to draft the Jags D as my token "Draft at least one player from a team you root for" pick. Just before my selection, Big Daddy Drew took them. I was crushed, so much so that I immediately drafted the Vikings (Drew's team) in the hopes he would trade. After mockingly toying with me, he made the deal. I look forward to introducing him and the rest of the league - fantasy and NFL at-large - to Reggie Fucking Nelson.

Last year, we asked some of our favorite writers to opine why Their Favorite Team Was Better Than Yours. Ultimately, we found this constrictive, and it also might have killed James Frey. So this time, we've just asked them to just run free, talk about their team, their experience as a fan, their hopes, their dreams, their desires for oral sex. All our teams are now assigned; if you sent us an email and we didn't get back to you, we're sorry, and we accept your scorn. But today: The Denver Broncos.

Your author is Brian Doolittle, who covers the NBA for The Roto Times, blogs with his brother and Kansas City Star sportswriter, Brad, at DoolittleBrothers.com and satisfies his addiction to classic rock my being the webmaster for K-Hits96. His words are after the jump.

(UPDATE: Your editor apologizes for screwing up the italics on this. Fixed now. Still Ankiel hungover.)

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Most Broncos fans do not have an inflated negative perception about Jake Plummer's 54 starts for Denver over the past four seasons. After all, he had three above-average seasons before last season's painful struggle. But his downfall did become inevitable in 2006 and, unfortunately, I was there at Arrowhead Stadium (one of almost 81,000) on Thanksgiving Night, last November 23, to witness Plummer's final on-field breaths as an NFL starting QB.

It was an odd game; not so much for the crazy, colorful parking lot scene featuring deep fried turkeys and ample holiday intoxication, but for what Plummer did. He looked completely inept, defeated and frustrated. He made no significant plays. Yet somehow he went 25-for-39 for 216 yards. (I went 6-for-6 in drinking beers for 144 total ounces, four restroom trips and one inappropriate usage of a female port-a-potty). I was amazed when I saw the box score, but a slew of seven-yard completions on second- and third-and-long will do wonders to put some shine on a game recap. His QB rating of 76.4 in that game closely mirrors that of his career rating of 74.6. An appropriate ending to his 136th and last career start. He went 0-for-6 in KC.

But the disappointments of last season have faded thanks to second-year QB Jay Cutler and, really, because of one amazing play. In arguably the greatest pass in the history of organized football — or, at least, one of the NFL's best in recent seasons — Cutler showed he had some special ability. In his third start, Cutler launched a 64-yard TD pass to Javon Walker on the Broncos' third play of the game in a win over Arizona. The throw traveled 65 glorious yards in the air. He finished 21-for-31 with 261 yards. Cutler put up nice overall numbers in his five starts last season and is definitely now the focus of attention for Orange Crush Nation.

Though Denver went 9-7 in 2006, its season ended in cruel fashion. After an agonizing 26-23 overtime loss at home to the 49ers to improbably miss the playoffs, the Broncos' New Year's Eve would grow more painful as Darrent Williams was shot to death later that night. As it should, that tragedy has somewhat overshadowed the on-field disappointment.

But moving forward, there are plenty of reasons why the Broncos will go 19-0. Ooops. I do that every year. But 11-5 is very reasonable. Cutler is already an average NFL starting quarterback and will get better fast. He has Mike Bell and newcomer Travis Henry (1,211 yards for Tennessee in 2006) to run the ball and Javon Walker, newcomer Brandon Stokley and Brandon Marshall to catch the ball. Good enough for me. The offensive line should be solid, though their collective streak of not talking to the media may end at 12 years as the NFL is putting the pressure on.

"No more offensive linemen saying, 'We're not talking,' or 'We're going to appoint a spokesman for the week,"' said Greg Aiello, the NFL's public relations boss. "That will not be tolerated."

Defensively, it is troubling to see Al Wilson leave after eight spectacular seasons. But he's gone, so get used to the new man in the middle, Nate Webster. Outside linebacker Ian Gold is highly skilled and is now Denver's most-tenured defensive starter. To replace Williams — who was a legitimate, rising playmaker — Denver shipped Tatum Bell to Detroit for Dre Bly, who is a very similar player to what Williams was. The Denver secondary is among the league's elite with Bly, superstar Champ Bailey, Nick Ferguson and John Lynch. The Broncos allowed 326 yards per game last season, including 213 passing yards per game. So the secondary needs to be better.

Rod Smith, a 12-year Denver veteran, is questionable to return from hip surgery but is currently in camp. If you don't love Rod Smith, you don't love NFL football.

I have been a devoted fan of the Broncos since the glory days of Haven Moses, Rick Upchurch, Steve Watson, Sammy Winder, Randy Gradishar, Louis Wright and Tom Jackson among countless others. I even remember just a little Craig Morton; I jumped on board in 1978 at the age of five. Living in a remote area in Iowa until I was 12 years old allowed me free reign to choose my teams, since I had little geographical devotion to any teams. Plus, the Chiefs really sucked. But I've stuck with this thing, and after drafting Him in 1983, I have been glued to every single game — and very well rewarded. I regard the Mile High Stadium setting to be among the best in all sports. I also trust Mike Shanahan to maximize his team's abilities. With Cutler at the helm from the Game One, this will be a memorable season as Denver builds momentum for a 2008 Super Bowl run - and hopefully a 2007 playoff run.

Only one thing must not occur: Cutler getting hurt. Then we would have Patrick Ramsey to watch and our Sunday beer frenzies would turn quite sour.

Last year, we asked some of our favorite writers to opine why Their Favorite Team Was Better Than Yours. Ultimately, we found this constrictive, and it also might have killed James Frey. So this time, we've just asked them to just run free, talk about their team, their experience as a fan, their hopes, their dreams, their desires for oral sex. All our teams are now assigned; if you sent us an email and we didn't get back to you, we're sorry, and we accept your scorn. But today: The Tampa Bay Buccaneers.

Your author is Russell Levine, an editor for Football Outsiders. His words are after the jump.

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I never knew a 4-12 season could be so liberating.

After nearly a decade of Sunday afternoon viewing appointments with my favorite team, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, marked by frequent yelling, throwing things and rocking back and forth in a fetal position on the edge of my couch, last season was blissfully drama-free.

It wasn't supposed to be that way. The campaign began with high expectations. The Bucs were defending NFC South champs. Chris Simms had come miles in his development. The defense, though aging, had been the league's top-ranked unit the year before.

Perhaps I should have known the optimism was a mirage when I praised Simms in last year's Deadspin preview only to have any and all commentary torpedoed by the revelation that he and Kyle Shanahan are ink buddies.

Yet their schedule seemed favorable, serving up a softy, Baltimore, in the opener. By halftime, it was 17-0, Ravens. By the gun, it was 27-zip. By Week 3, Simms was without a spleen, and the fans were actually happy about it. There was a brief flicker of hope when Simms's replacement, rookie Bruce Gradkowski, actually appeared competent, and Tampa looked like it might be able to make a playoff run in the putrid NFC.

But I knew. So complete was the domination in that opening loss that I shrugged my shoulders and accepted that the Bucs were going to stink. The worse they played, the more enjoyable my Sundays became, freed as I was from my typical three hours of torture while watching my team on NFL Sunday Ticket.

Oh, I still watched. Every snap, every game. Only now it was sometimes on a three-hour or three-day TiVo delay. My Sundays were blissfully stress-free. In a season in which my alma mater, Michigan, was making a run at a national title, my nerves needed the respite anyway.

One man who wasn't enjoying the Bucs' free fall was the head coach, Jon Gruden. He arrived as a conquering hero, a hard-ass who whipped nice guy Tony Dungy's troops into the fighting trim that carried them to a Super Bowl triumph in Gruden's first season, 2002.

Fast-forward five years, and Gruden is in desperation mode. Once one of the NFL's brightest coaching stars, "Chucky" is scrambling to save his job. As a result, the coach, along with the team's Official Rubber Stamper (aka, Gruden's hand-picked GM Bruce Allen), have been throwing money at any free agent they can find. And given that there are still a few NFL players who haven't had their fill of Mons Venus, they've had some success. Jeff Garcia, ex of the CFL, the 49ers, the Browns, the Lions, and the Eagles, arrived on the same day the team completed a trade for Jake Plummer, who has decided to retire rather than climb aboard the good ship Buccaneers. This coming mere weeks after Simms and his abdominal scar — the one that's reportedly affected his throwing so much, he's now third on the depth chart — were re-signed.

But Gruden wasn't done perusing the QB market. In mid-July, Daunte Culpepper arrived for a workout after being released by the Dolphins. Somehow, Gruden and Allen allowed him to remain on the scrap heap. They still have Gradkowski and a McCown brother to be named later. No word on if Y.A. Tittle and his walker will be in by the end of August.

Camp began with more ominous signs. On opening day, Gruden and Allen told defensive end Simeon Rice to take a pay cut or get cut. He chose the latter, which pissed off defensive leader and all-around good guy Derrick Brooks. He promptly tweaked a hamstring and was sidelined. Brooks is both a Hall-of-Famer in waiting and a civic treasure in Tampa, which might be the only thing that protects his job. Gruden and Allen have already felt the fan base's wrath after dispatching John Lynch and Warren Sapp and drastically reducing the role of fullback Mike Alstott. Messing with Mr. Derrick Brooks might be the final straw, especially as the Super Bowl memories fade.

Then again, free agency also brought the arrival of linebacker Cato June from the Colts, who only plays Brooks's position at weakside linebacker. June is a Pro Bowl performer from a Super Bowl champ, but this signing makes less sense than the trade for Plummer. June was a lousy safety at Michigan, and only made a million tackles in Indy because the rest of the defense stunk. He's too small to play the strong side or in the middle. Gruden probably doesn't have the juice to cut Brooks, but given June's contract, he'll play somewhere.

The guy who stands to lose playing time, Ryan Nece, is one of my favorite Buccaneers. Like Brooks, Nece is a tremendous community guy. Unfortunately, character mattered a hell of a lot more to Dungy than it does to Gruden, who has been busy turning Tampa into a home for wayward souls. The latest example is tight end Jerramy Stevens, whose drinking and dropped passes got him run out of Seattle.

Waiting to fight for playing time at third receiver is one David Boston, who has picked up a pair of major knee injuries, a steroids suspension and an assault charge since he was last a productive NFL player in 2002.

Bucs fans appear to be tiring of this team and its struggles. After winning the Super Bowl, the Bucs boasted a season-ticket waiting list of over 100,000 names. I know: I was one of them. I live in New Jersey, but figured the churn rate on 100,000 season tickets would probably carry into my retirement years. By the time I got the call, I'd be ensconced at Del Boca Vista.

I was only off by about 30 years. My number came up this offseason, less than five years after putting my name on the list. Since I'm not quite ready for the daily grind of shuffleboard, I'll have to pass for now.

At least my fellow Bucs fans who do attend the games will be able to drink themselves into unconsciousness if the team stinks again this season. As Deadspin readers know, a law was recently passed permitting hard liquor sales at Raymond James Stadium. The fans just might need it.

Not me. I'm taking the one of the few good ideas I've ever gotten from Bill Simmons to heart. I've still got one more year of stress-fee fandom thanks to the expiring five-year statute of limitations on fan griping following a championship.

When the season kicks off in a few weeks, I'll be hoping for the best and expecting the worst. My fellow stat geeks at Football Outsiders say the Bucs have a chance to make the playoffs. So what if this is the one team we can never seem to get an accurate read on? We thought they'd be at least a .500 club last year.

Still, a playoff run wouldn't be a complete shock, not with Tampa Bay's schedule (Hello, AFC South and NFC West). Not if Garcia can star in the role of Rich Gannon, the last castoff QB to thrive in Gruden's ridiculously complex short passing game. The competition in the NFC South isn't exactly stellar, either. New Orleans won't sneak up on anyone this year. Joey Harrington and David Carr could be the starting quarterbacks in Atlanta and Carolina, respectively, by midseason. Not exactly a murderer's row.

Sure, they'll probably melt down again and Gruden and Allen will probably get canned. Maybe the Bucs can bring back Tony Dungy. Whatever happened to that guy, anyway?