After the game, Celek denied having any knowledge of the sweet, delicious rum that makes everyone a Captain™ of their own evening. But then a silly advertising exec blew the whole deal and admitted that Celek was indeed part of the stealth marketing plan organized to spread "brand awareness" of Captain Morgan. Even worse, they tried to wrap it up in a charity drive to guilt everyone into pretending that it wasn't just a terrible fake viral campaign for booze.

The campaign was set to be unveiled next week and was fairly simple: For every time a player was caught on camera striking the "Captain Morgan" during a regular season game, $10,000 would be donated to Gridiron Greats. For each instance in the playoffs, the donation would elevate to $25,000. And for instances in the Super Bowl, the bounty was slated to hit $100,000 per pose.

Oh, what an amazing corporate citizen! But the grouchy grouches at NFL put the kibosh on that right away. Players can't do advertisements, charity or otherwise, during games. Please leave the shilling to every single other person associated with the broadcasting of an NFL game.

"I don't want people to think our intention was to [upset] the NFL," [ad dude] Lehrman said. "We want to find a way to do it, but it's not going to work out as currently formulated. … It's at the point where we need to re-think how we can go about doing this and find a way that we can raise money for [Gridiron Greats] without getting people upset."

They could just write a check, but then how would anyone find out about the awesome sexy female-slaying powers that simply holding a glass of Captain Morgan bestows upon even the schlubbiest alcoholic? I'm not sure the four mind-numbing commercials an hour during every televised sporting event will keep them covered.

P.S. Please be a Captain responsibly.

League shipwrecks Captain Morgan campaign [Yahoo]
Brent Celek's "Captain" Pose Was Part of "Guerrilla-Style Advertising Campaign" [700 Level]

This is a very brief message to a very specific set of individuals, namely junior high school, high school and college offensive linemen. Do you play offensive line? Stop. STOP. Quit. Give up. Unless you're good enough to get a free ride and/or a pro contract, you shouldn't play offensive line. Ever. You should demand a position switch to defensive line, or you should quit football and play something else that's fun and awesome.

I don't need to tell you that offensive line is the right field of football positions. You get thrown there if you're too fat and slow to play any other position. And yet, countless newbie offensive linemen in America are being brainwashed by coaches as we speak. Hoodwinked. Bamboozled. These coaches are telling them that playing offensive line is awesome. When you play o-line, all coaches feed you the same line of bullshit about why what you do is so cool:

1. "You get to hit someone on every play!"

This is somewhat true, but you don't get to TACKLE anyone. If you're lucky, you get to catch someone napping and pancake the shit out of them. Otherwise, you don't get to hit people. You get to PUSH them. Or attempt to push them, only to slide off their bodies and fall awkwardly to the ground, at which point your hands get cleated. You don't get to hit someone, wrap your arms around them, and throw them to the turf like the bastards that they are. THAT is satisfying. Blocking people is not.

2. "You are the heart and soul of this team!"

Again, LIES. The one crazy freak athlete you had on your high school team (and most every high school team has one) who would return five punts a game for TD's? THAT guy was the heart and soul of the team. You are interchangeable assholes.

3. "The offensive line is a brotherhood."

Big deal. So is the Lion's Club. At least I won't lose a fingernail when I join their outfit.

Young athletes of today, I'm here today to tell you that offensive is the least enjoyable, least gratifying position in any sport ever. Even the right fielder gets to bat. At least hockey goalies get cool masks. Offensive linemen do nothing cool. You would never play offensive line recreationally. Ever. It blows. There's a reason wide receivers always have to be reminded to block, and that's because blocking is boring and shitty. You can't fully use your hands if you're an o-lineman, which makes you the lone football player who has to act like a soccer player. You never get to touch the ball, or score. You never get to sack the QB. All you get to do is push people, or blow your assignment and get yelled at. You are the fucking extra in the movie.

Many offensive linemen are conditioned to sneer at skill position players, calling them prima donnas and glory hogs. This is because skill position players get to have fun. SHITLOADS OF FUN. If you were a gifted athlete, and you could play guard and quarterback with equal skill, which position would you prefer to play? It's not even a debate. I have no evidence to back this up, but IT'S A FACT: 95% of all offensive linemen, professional or not, don't like playing offensive line.

I am biased here, of course, because I played offensive line for ten years, and I sucked at it. Sucked HARD. I do not know why I played for so long. I really don't. I never played. I rode the bench the whole time. I liked the idea of being a football player than I did actually playing the game, and that's never good. I quit my college football team before my senior year, and my senior year was a GLORIOUS affair, filled with beer and Mario64 and actual hooking up with girls. No more three-hour practices for me! I've got boobs to fondle! I spent my entire senior year pissed at myself that I didn't quit playing football sooner. Now I've got two back surgeries to my name, and I look like an asshole when I walk.

Now, maybe some of you young offensive lineman out there really love it, and are truly passionate about playing the position. My congratulations to all three of you. For the rest of you stuck playing offensive line, QUIT. You aren't a pussy if you quit. You aren't letting your team down. You are walking away from playing a position whose crushed-fingers-to-fun ratio is off the fucking charts. Give it up. Go play soccer, or rugby, or some other sport where you get to run around, have fun, and do cool stuff. Or play NO sports at all. Smoke weed. Did you know I didn't start smoking weed regularly until senior year? IDIOT! HOW COULD I BE THAT SHORT-SIGHTED? Weed is awesome!

Don't make the same mistake I did. Don't spend every fall of your youth trapped on a soaking wet field doing duck walk drills and foot chopping exercises. Offensive line is the chain gang of sports. You are in a PRISON. Quit. Leave. ESCAPE. Go enjoy yourself. LIVE, DAMMIT! Don't waste away on an offensive line. It's totally for suckers.

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

Five Throwgasms

Pats at Colts: The day he retires, shouldn't the Colts fire whoever is their head coach and just make Peyton the head coach? He's more prepared than 98% of the league's coaches. The guy is a fucking savant. He could engineer Russian nuclear missile subs at this point. Hell, he's already the de facto head coach of this Indy team. At the very least, I'd hire him to be an offensive coordinator immediately. I'm telling you, you may as well quit fighting against having Peyton Manning as a constant fixture in your NFL viewing life. He'll be around forever.

Bengals at Steelers: I was watching the 5,000 ads for that Droid phone they keep pimping during games, and I noticed that, in the legal copy, there was this disclaimer:

"DROID is a registered trademark of LucasFilm Ltd."

So, Verizon paid George Lucas untold shitloads of cash for the right to name their phone the Droid. I'm always in favor of someone taking money from Verizon, but that's amazing. George Lucas is such a cash whore, he trademarked a single fucking word and made a mint off of it. He didn't even have to lift a finger, or create some sort of CG jive-talking eel to do it. I don't whether to be in awe, or to go spit on the fucker's house.

Four Throwgasms

Eagles at Chargers: I bought my wife "Twilight" for her birthday. Big mistake. HUGE mistake.

Three Throwgasms

Bears at 49ers: It's your Thursday Night game with Matt Millen. GAHHHHH MATT MILLEN NOOOOOOO! I've heard Millen call a couple college games this year. He's been okay, I guess. But still, you sit there listening to him, and the whole time, your brain is saying, "HOLY FUCK. IT'S MATT MILLEN, THE LOSINGEST LOSER IN THE HISTORY OF LOSING. AND THEY'RE PAYING HIM TO TALK! WHAT THE FUCK?" It's weird. It's distracting. It's like he broadcasts the entire game with his dick sticking out of his fly.

By the way, NFL scholar and very serious person Gregg Easterbrook wrote this week that the 49ers are now losing because they signed Michael Crabtree.

Beware the Crabtree Curse! San Francisco opened the season 3-1, with its sole loss to powerhouse Minnesota on the game's final snap. Since signing Michael Crabtree, San Francisco has lost four straight — the Niners just rolled over at home against the Titans, who came into the contest 1-6. Coach Mike Singletary had San Francisco's players buying into the notion that no one's bigger than the team. Then, suddenly, you can jerk San Francisco around all you want and get $17 million guaranteed as your reward. San Francisco management's cave-in to the me-first Crabtree triggered an instant losing streak, by communicating to other 49ers the message that the team-first stuff was always just empty talk. Caving in to Crabtree may cost the Niners their season.

Really, Gregg? Does Michael Crabtree play quarterback? Or defense? Because the 49ers are horrible at defense, particularly pass defense. What should the Niners have done, Gregg? NOT signed Crabtree at a reasonable level and lose their draft pick? When Crabtree decided to end his holdout because he desperately WANTED to play? And how were the 49ers abandoning team-first principles when they refused to capitulate to the high salary demands of an individual player? Isn't making sure you sign a talented player without busting your cap EXACTLY a team-first thing to do? And isn't it a smart, team-first move to welcome the guy with open arms, rather than treating him like a fucking leper and holding an endless grudge when he arrives? Oh my God, paying a player $17 million RUINS chemistry! Payroll discrepancies never happen on other NFL teams!

Easterbrook says Crabtree ruined the 49ers with "waves of negativity". OH NO! THE NEGATIVE WAVES! I CAN'T SEE THEM, BUT THEY'RE DISRUPTING OUR PRECIOUS AURAS!

Keep in mind: Gregg Easterbrook has used his column to urge everyone to go to church, and to urge people to never leave the house after midnight because bad things happen. Also, he plays poker with Nazi Shark twice a week. He's a fucking idiot. And verily the Dick Joke God chortled at that pretentious dicksmack.

Falcons at Panthers: Thanks God Mike Smith punched someone. Now he finally has a distinguishing characteristic. Mike Smith? Who? Oh, you mean the Mike Smith who tried to punch out DeAngelo Hall? Oh, he's cool.

Cowboys at Packers

Two Throwgasms

Seahawks at Cardinals: YOU WEREN'T MAN ENOUGH, KEN WHISENHUNT. For real, Anquan Boldin played for the Cardinals with STEEL PLATES IN HIS FUCKING FACE, and no one can bother to tell him he's been deactivated? That's semi-Haleyesque.

Jaguars at Jets: Before we get to this week's poop story below, a quick one of my own. I had to wake up to feed my kid at 6AM earlier this week. I got up and got out of bed. It was still dark outside. I went downstairs to make the bottle, and I fed my kid. All in the dark. Before I got back into bed, I realized I had to take a shit badly. So I head to the john, fart, and sit down to take a shit. I got up and put my boxers back on. They were wet all in the bottom, which was weird. I figured I pissed on them somehow, so I chucked them in the hamper, threw on a new pair, and went back to bed.

One hour later, I wake up and it's light outside. I go to the bathroom. There's liquid SHIT all over the bathroom floor. I freak. I run to the hamper and check the boxers I removed. They're drenched in liquid poop. I check the sheets. Poop. Poopy water everywhere, and I have no idea how it happened. I sat down to shit. My asshole was centered over the toilet. How did all this poopy water get all over the place?

So I'm sitting there later that night, eating dinner with the Mrs. When suddenly, in the middle of the meal, I cry out:

THE FART! I MUST HAVE SHIT STANDING UP WHILE FARTING! IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW! I AM MONK!

She never finished dinner. Oh, and that story reminds me of the Jaguars.

Bills at Titans

One Throwgasm

Saints at Rams: Okay, so our Asshole Coach Digest got off to a rocky start with this whole Pat Murphy fiasco. But I'll be damned if I give up on a good idea. This week, we got flooded with story after story from poor souls who were terrorized in their youth by asshole, scumbag coaches WHO WILL REMAIN NAMELESS FROM NOW ON AND WERE DEFINITELY NOT PAT MURPHY, WHO IS A LOVELY MAN. Here's one example, from Nick:

Middle School, so like 8th grade. All wanna-be football players are gathered to sign up. Coach calls us down one by one to fill out our names, address, etc. I get down there and he asks my position. I say o-line. He head-butts me. No helmet or anything. Just grabs my head (hand on each temple) and slams his forehead into mine. Still not sure why.

Or THIS one, from apostles03:

I'm older than most Deadspinners, and physical abuse from coaches and teachers was tolerated a lot more when I was a kid than it is nowadays. We had a head coach in my high school program back in the early ‘80's who wore a whistle around his neck, secured by a leather cord. When he got especially pissed off about something, he would take the whistles off of his neck and literally whip a kid with the cord-often he would hit the shoulder pads, but on many occasions he struck the neck or the exposed back/stomach under a practice jersey. This happened maybe every other practice, at least once, to some poor kid.

I personally had to hide welts from my parents or lie about how I got a mark on my back because I didn't want to have to quit football. My parents never found out, but I'm sure some other parents knew. However, nothing was ever done about it.

One guy (an offensive guard) got hit so many times we called him "Toby". Think of the scene from Alex Haley's "Roots." 80's humor! Slap me five!

I'd sure like to whip his old carcass with a leather cord one time before he dies.

You see? Headbutts? Whippings? We can't let these stories go untold! More responsibly reported and safely anonymous emails on Monday.

Ravens at Browns: Good God. This is the Monday Night game? Holy shit, this is awful. It's rare you see a sporting event that could be ENHANCED by Chris Berman talking at the half.

Chiefs at Raiders: My mailman looks like Tom Cable. EXACTLY like him, right down to the constant sweating. And he delivers the mail the exact same way I would imagine Tom Cable delivering the mail. He just jams that shit into the slot as brusquely as humanly possible. He could give two shits if anything tears or folds. He just rapes the hell out of our mail slot. I really need to buy a mailbox.

Bucs at Dolphins: Our own Will Leitch wrote a rather pleasant and complimentary piece on Bill Simmons this week. I don't disagree with most of what Will wrote. Simmons absolutely created a new style and made old-school sports columnists instantly obsolete. I used to read him compulsively and still read most anything he writes about football or basketball. But I will tell you this: Underneath it all, Simmons still has the same DNA as the Mariottis of the world: thin skin, a steadfast belief that he's a genius when it comes to all things sports-related, bad nicknames for people (Dumbleavy? Really?), and a very small well of repeated joke memes. His voice was completely new and refreshing, but the message is often the same as the old guard. "These coaches don't know what they're doing!" "I told you something I predicted would come to pass!" There's still that self-lionization. And that's the frustrating thing about Simmons. I wish he'd leave those vestiges of the old sports writing world behind. He doesn't need them to be great. I wish he didn't always feel compelled to be the smartest asshole at the bar. Then he'd become an even greater force than he already is.

Lions at Vikings: NFL Shop always has a signature clothing pattern every year. This year, it's the "drift" pattern. Now, this is the ugliest fucking shirt I've ever seen. What is this, 1993? Jesus.

Broncos at Redskins: This game's bad. Know what's worse? A remake of "Paradise City" featuring Slash, Fergie, and B-Real of Cypress Hill.

And friend sent me this specifically to make me angry. Mission accomplished, sir. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

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

"New Fang," by Them Crooked Vultures. Josh Homme. Dave Grohl. John Paul Jones. Yep, that's my band. And you know who's not in this group? GODDAMN FUCKING FERGIE.

Embarassing Mixtape Track I Once Owned That Will Not Fire You Up

"Iesha," by Another Bad Creation. Ah, the East Coast Family. This entire group of bands fell off the face of the fucking Earth right before the turn of the century. I don't even see Boyz II Men on the nostalgia circuit. And what about that white band Michael Bivins had in one of these videos? I can't even remember their name (I thought they were in the "MotownPhilly" video, but I didn't see them). They looked like jackasses. I'm glad they never made it. Anyway, as of 2006, ABC still apparently existed. At the playyyyygrooooound…

UPDATE: Sudden Impact! Reader nvasconcelos identified them. Read more about the horribleness of Sudden Impact here.

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? Dark meat, perhaps? Email me any question or observation you like.

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Brian Westbrook. Oh, it was only a matter of time before he showed up here, with his brutal late scratch. YOU BASTARD. Aww, what's the matter, Brian? Your poor widdle head hurt? Afraid you'll get post-concussion syndrome? YOU PUSSY. You get out there, and you get your head bashed in. OUR FINANCIAL WELFARE DEPENDS ON IT. It's too late to undo the damage now! You'll be a wreck of a human being in a decade anyway! You'll be wandering the streets naked, squeezing block of cream cheese between your hands. GET ON THAT FIELD AND DANCE, RUNNERBOY!

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of Atlanta was correct, making me 8-1 on the year. That puts the Falcons, Bears, Colts, Eagles, Vikings, Texans, Ravens, Saints and Skins off the board now. We once again pick a team for your suicide pool and something that makes you WANT to commit suicide. This week's pick? The Jets, and Silverstar headlights. I saw an ad for these things during the game the other day. They say they're brighter, and safer for your kids and all that shit. What they don't say is that fancy headlights like these will fucking BLIND every driver on the opposite side of the road. This shit is getting ridiculous. You have to drive with sunglasses on at night now because other assholes' headlights are brighter than the surface of a fucking white dwarf.

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

"This week, I like the Bears getting 3 points on the road against the 49ers. Hey, you lay off my poker buddy Easterbrook. Know what he calls it when you spike a one-eyed jack on the river? An EISNER. The guy's one of us."

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 6-3. He's back on track!

This Week's Pants Party Winner
Last week's Pants Party winner was J. Burns. He did not come to claim his prize. This week's winner was J. Mullins. Mr. Mullins, come and claim your rant prize. If you're related to Shawn Mullins, I will punch you in the tit. Everytheeeeeng's gonna be allll right, ROCK A BYE! God, I hate that song. I bet Fergie co-wrote it.

Great Moments In Poop History
Regrettably, I said in Tuesday's mailbag that it's probably impossible for someone to clog a toilet with poop alone. Well, I was fucking WRONG. Over a dozen people emailed in to tell me about the triumphant times in which they, or a loved one, stopped up an open toilet drain with a poopy softball with the density of a neutron star. Reader Mike sends in the most harrowing tale of the bunch.

What follows is a bad story. About my mother. If you use this, please exclude my last name.

My mom gets horribly constipated. Cannot go to the bathroom more than once a week, and frequently only has "movement" once every two weeks. It's just the way she's designed, for whatever weird horrible "God is going to punish you for your parents sins" type of reason.

One day she comes out of the bathroom, beat red and crying. The toilet clogged. Well, ok mom, go get a plunger. No, like it REALLY clogged and water was overflowing, my dad, soldier that he is, goes and gets the plunger. I follow from a safe distance. Yes, the toilet is actually overflowing, and I leave the room to get towels to mop off the shit water.

About 30 seconds later as I'm looking for garbage towels to use, my Dad comes back. Direct quote: Plunger won't work, the shit is stuck, I'm gonna have to chop it up, do we have an old butcher knife? Lo and behold, my dad, in about 3 inches of my mom's shit water, had to chop of a large ball of compressed excrement of my mom's lodged directly in the exit hole of the toilet.

God only knows how she got that thing out on her own without going to emergency.

Oh, man. Butchered poop. Are you as horrified as I am? Let us huddle for warmth.

Now, for a proper poop story from reader Darrin. He calls it, "The Poopsicle."

When I was in college attending the fine Fairfield University in Connecticut (which is a terrible state filled with terrible people), we lived in large cookie-cutter townhouses during our junior and senior years. Our group being accepting and jovial drinkers, we didn't really have a problem with anyone. Except, we lived next to a set of thoroughbred guido neighbors. Orange faces, gold crosses, super spiked hair gel. These guys were born, bred, and raised on the Jersey shore. Needless to say, we hated these guys.

Fast forward to Christmas Vacation. My Canadian roommate and I were enjoying an empty campus and a full bottle of Jager. He couldn't pay for a flight home and I'm an alcoholic. We drank for 10 days straight. The digestive system of a human male simply was never meant to process ramen noodles, pizza, and liters of alcohol over a long period of time. Finally, this crested when we were playing some Xbox, and I announced a shit of epic proportions was coming. I bolted to the bathroom, and I heard my roommate leaving the house. While in the bathroom, I was working up to it, as I could feel a mammoth stampeding toward the exit when there was a knock on the bathroom door. The door then opens and a red cooler slides in, and the door closes. "The guidos left their cooler on the porch. Shit in it".

Three simply words. "Shit. In. It." I have never had more respect for someone.

So I scooted my ass forward and braced myself on the sides of the cooler. I huffed and I puffed, and I heard a loud plop. The smell was horrendous, I couldn't even breathe. I hopped back onto the toilet to clean myself, and I had to put the lid on the cooler or I wasn't going to make it. I opened the door and my roomate was half way across the room telling me how much it reaked.

I dragged the cooler back to the porch, but I just had to take a look, see what papa made. I looked down and there it was. It looked like it came from an elephant. A constipated elephant. Who hadn't shit in weeks. My roomate is now convinced that I have some sort of bowel disorder, because the evidence in the cooler was inhuman.

We waited, and we waited, and it stayed there for a month, then two. Meanwhile I had told everyone I knew, who would stealthily sneak a glimpse of the turdious maximus. But the cooler never moved. Finally, mid-February, the cooler is the middle of the common area, where it was clearly hurled a long distance, broken open, and, now resembling swamp thing, my magnificence had rolled out into the grass, still frozen in ice that had gathered in the cooler. It was now like a poop-ice sculpture, a poopsicle if you will.

Brilliant.

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

Tom Cable*
Jim Zorn
Eric Mangini
Jim Mora
Jeff Fisher
Dick Jauron
Jack Del Rio*
Todd Haley
Lovie Smith
Andy Reid

We welcome Andy Reid to the chopping block with open arms. And we take a moment to acknowledge Dallas Morning News writer Jean-Jacques Taylor, who apparently lives in some parallel universe where Philadelphians adore Andy Reid and wish him nothing but peace and rainbows. "Philadelphia trusts Reid implicitly." It does? Do you even know where Philadelphia is? Are you aware that it's located in Pennsylvania and is filled with impatient dickheads? It reminds me of this sketch.

"And do these lions eat ants?"

Gametime Snack Of The Week

Ants on a log! Do I lick the groove of the celery and then discard it, without ever actually eating the vegetable part? Fuck and yes, I do. Adults always try and get kids to get healthy shit by tossing unhealthy shit on top of it. But kids aren't stupid. Eating big chunks of celery is awful. Like biting into a roll of dental floss.

My wife bought that fucking Jessica Seinfeld cookbook, the one where you make spinach purees and shit and bake them into muffins. The kid took one sniff of the muffin and cast it overboard. Jessica Seinfeld, you can eat hog.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week

TESCO! Reader Mark C. writes in:

Last week's Chinese beer selection sparked my memory of the greatest cheap beer in the world. TESCO brand beer (or "lager" if you're some fancy Englishman) is the cheap beer of the world. TESCO is the Wal-Mart of the UK. While studying in Belfast in college, another broke American college student and I were perusing the beer and wine aisle in TESCO looking for the ultimate combination of cheap and drunk. An Irish bum with an incredible dirty beard and even better accent got our attention. He grumbled "Try this shit, it will get you fucked up." It seems TESCO produces what's called "value lager." It's 91 pence (or about $1.50) for 4 pints. That's about 6 twelve-ounce beers for $1.50. Ever drank 12 beers for 3 bucks?

Discounting keg party fees? Can't say that I have. Man oh man, that is some cheap as shit stale piss. Look at those cans. It looks like jock itch spray. Mmmm, frothy jock itch spray. I MUST HAVE IT.

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

"Baby, my favorite for the NFL's MVP this year is still a TIE between Drew Brees of the Saints and Peyton Manning of the Colts! I was saddened recently to hear that my good friend Denny Hopper is suffering from prostate cancer. AND WHAT A PROSTATE! Big? You bet! That puppy has churned out more Easy Riders than a Mumbai sperm bank! I spent some time with Hop in Aruba when he was directing a short film that no one has ever seen. It was called GIRL ON A ROPE. And it was about a man, played by Hop, who sucked morphine straight from the bag and kept his wife on a rope! And Hop studied for that role by sucking morphine straight from the bag and keeping his wife on a rope! For eight weeks! Dedicated? YOU BET! Crazy as Hell? Goddamn right."

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Browns Fans

A Perfect World. This was an awesome movie. Except for the scenes with Clint Eastwood, which comprise half the movie. Cut those scenes out, and it's fucking awesome. But I didn't like the scene where Kevin Costner has the kid make mayonnaise sandwiches. And then they eat mayonnaise sandwiches. That is fucking horrible and worse than anything in the Saw films.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"Come to Duff Gardens, where roaming gangs aren't a problem anymore!"

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Holy Taco's gallery of men staring at boobs. That's good work there, men.
-For the gals: A very shirtless Josh Duhamel. ANOTHER THING RUINED BY FERGIE.

Enjoy the games, everyone.

Last year, Romo's life—and that of his team—was an embarrassing and not very entertaining soap opera. He was dating an incredibly untalented tabloid star, fighting with his wide receivers (while secretly holding late-night trysts with his tight end) and the Cowboys missed the playoffs after he folded like a cheap suit during the stretch run. (Plus, there was Hard Knocks, Pacman Jones, Roy Williams, etc...) After a promising start to his career, it was looking like he might become the answer to a bar trivia question 10 years from now that would make people say, "Tony Romo? Whatever happened to that guy?"

Since then he dumped Jessica, Terrell Owens got run out of town and the Cowboys have returned to first place. Romo has found a new, less complain-y target and the giant video board is too distracting for anyone to notice his shaky footwork. Without all that drama in his life, Romo is a pretty solid quarterback. Solid enough to outsmart Andy Reid and the Eagles anyway. (Seriously, between the failed challenges and sissy field goal in the final minutes, I don't think there's any big game the Eagles can't find a way to screw up.)

Oh, there's still plenty of time for that late season collapse (despite two games against Washington and Oakland at home) and he still has a grumpy and terrible Roy Williams to deal with. Plus, you know ... Wade Phillips. But right now no one really cares about what Tony Romo is up to anymore and that should be just the way he likes it if he wants to keep winning.

Tony Romo, minus the flash, has pushed Cowboys atop of NFC East [USA Today]
Tony Romo delivers another complete performance in win over Eagles [Fort Worth Star-Telegram]

* * * * *

Here are some other big winners, who did not win quite as big:

Marmalard: That'll show those Giants for trading you for that pretty boy. Now let's get fucking druuuuunk. [Newsday]

The Indianapolis Colts: All they do is win! (*Regular Season Only) They'll be undefeated when the Patriots come to town next week. Then we'll see what's what. [Yahoo, Toronto Star]

SEC Championship Game Ticket Brokers: Another SEC game, another poor officiating job in favor of the undefeated team. They will get their Alabama vs. Florida, but not without another bit of generosity from the referees. [Mobile Press-Register, Wetzel]

Big Ten Haters: The conference's last best hope for respectability lost their quarterback and their undefeated season and now Ohio State will get yet another chance to lose the Rose Bowl. At least all our games are out of the way before Thanksgiving! (Sigh.) [Chicago Tribune, The Lantern]

Vince Young: 2-0 since taking over the reigns of the Titans. So everything's cool now, right? [Tennessean]

Finally, the Weekend Loser?: Matt Leinart: Seriously, the guy came into a no pressure, can't lose blowout and still got pulled from the game for being worse than ineffective. (One attempt, one interception.) Have you considered a career in the exciting field of electronics repair? The brochure is free!

•Bengals 17, Ravens 7.The old guard of defense-minded football ran into the new kids on the black, and they're wearing garish orange stripes. They stifled the hydra-headed Ravens run, holding them to just 55 yards on the ground. They kept Joe Flacco in check, picking him off twice. And though Chris Henry went down with a broken arm, I'm ready to declare this Cincinnati team officially "for real." (Thanks to Kyle for the screengrab.)

•Colts 20, Texans 17. Holy crap, this one was close. After a late Joey Addai score (his second), two Texans drives into Indy territory ended with an interception and a missed 42-yard field goal as time expired. The Colts barely remain undefeated, and oh, by the way, Houston is now Ryan Moats's team.

•Patriots 27, Dolphins 17. Miami gave them a scare, taking a lead in the third with a Ronnie Brown TD pass to the tight end. But a 71-yard bomb to Randy Moss puts the Patriots firmly in command of the AFC East.

•Buccaneers 38, Packers 28. Tampa Bay and "exciting football" in the same sentence? Believe it. There was no freak injury or fluky play to account for this one, just Josh Freeman's testicles dropping before our very eyes. In his first NFL start, he tossed three TDs, while the Bucs D picked off Aaron Rodgers thrice. And just like that, every team in the National Football League has won a game.

•Cardinals 41, Bears 21. This one was so ugly, my FOX station didn't bother going back to it after halftime. Kurt Warner had five TDs, while Matt Leinart was picked on his only attempt.

•Jaguars 24, Chiefs 21. Tell me again how much money did KC give Matt Cassel? But when Chris Chambers and Lance Long are your top targets, there's not a heck of a lot you can do. Mike Sims-Walker had 147 yards receiving, and the Jaguars are somehow a .500 team.

•Falcons 31, Redskins 17. Nothing like playing Washington to get a faltering team back on track. This one was the Michael Turner show, as he ran for 166 yards and two scores.

With apologies to the fans currently suffering in Cleveland and Oakland, this has been a banner year for quarterbacking in the NFL. Brett Favre was the Offensive Player of the Week last week after he torched the Packers for 4 TD's. But, endless Favre hype aside, you could have picked any quarterback's name out of a hat last week and probably found someone worthy of the same honor. McNabb. Flacco (he went 20 for 25). Romo. Rodgers. Even Vince Young… VINCE FUCKING YOUNG… shined last week. Every Sunday seems to bring in a new batch of banner QB performances, and if you think it's more noticeable than in years past, you might be correct.

Currently, as we cross midseason, there are SEVEN quarterbacks in the league with a QB rating of 100 or higher (Favre, Rodgers, Manning, Schaub, Brees, McNabb, Big Ben). If the season finished that way, it would be the most QB's in league history to finish with a rating that high, and by nearly double the previous record. This doesn't even count QB's like Tom Brady, Tony Romo, and Philip Rivers, all of whom are knocking on the door of a 100 passer rating and could easily end the season well above it. There are also TWELVE QBs with a passer rating of 90 or better. Again, if that number holds, it would be another league record. Here now, going back to 1999, are the number of 100-rating and 90-rating passers in the league:

2009: Seven 100-rating passers, twelve 90-rating passers
2008: 1, 9
2007: 3, 8
2006: 1, 8
2005: 2, 8
2004: 4, 11
2003: 1, 6
2002: 1, 4
2001: 1, 5
2000: 2, 7
1999: 1, 5

Going back even further, 1989 had one 100-rating passer and two 90-rating passers. 1979 had just one 90-rating passer and no one over 100. And 1969 had no quarterbacks over the 90 rating at all. Of course, quarterbacks weren't allowed to actually throw the ball back then, so that's understandable. Passing has obviously evolved over the decades. But we've been in a big passing era for a while now. Why the sudden jump?

It could simply be the rather arbitrary nature of how the passer rating stat is compiled. But a rating over 100 usually indicates that you're playing some pretty good football. Carp about McNabb being in there all you like, the guy has still has a TD-to-pick ratio of 9-to-1. He's even completing 60% of his passes! GOLD STAR FOR DONNIE!

I remember growing up that surpassing the 100 rating was a really big fucking deal. Only Joe Montana ever did it with any consistency. Then Steve Young duplicated the feat, with Troy Aikman joining him on occasion. Otherwise, a rating that high was well out of reach for most of the league's passers, and has remained that way. So why are so many QB's crashing through the ceiling right now? Why are they, in theory, killing so many defenses?

Well, the answer the league will probably give you is that the QB's are just that good. Four layers of quarterback classes are playing excellent football right now. One very old guy, Favre, is doing well. Brilliant, relatively younger veterans like Manning and Brady are also lighting it up. Then you have the Rivers/Big Ben/Manning class, one of the best in league history, followed by Matt Ryan and Joe Flacco coming of age. That's four different "generations" of QB's all together in the league at the same time, which makes for great football.

But I think something is amiss is a world where Kyle Orton has a passer rating of 95.5, and that something would be rules. Yeah, these QB's are all playing lights out, but it helps when the league has established rule after rule to help keep their jerseys clean. This year, in particular, the number of bullshit roughing the passer calls has gotten way out of hand. How many fucking horrible calls have you seen this year, where the defender was penalized simply for running into the passer just as the ball has left his hand? What's a pass rusher to do? Your job is to go kill the quarterback, and now you have no clue what's gonna get you flagged and what isn't.

I thought this was a good theory. But I posed the question of why passer ratings are improving so dramatically to two men who know football far better than I do: Aaron Schatz of Football Outsiders and Michael David Smith of FanHouse. Here is what Schatz thinks:

I don't think it has to do with rule changes, I think it has to do with changes in offensive philosophy. It's related to the rise of the spread shotgun, because…

a) Shotgun formations are more efficient than standard formations in pretty much every situation, except short-yardage (Ed. Note: Todd Haley is likely unaware of this)

b) Percentage of plays from shotgun have risen at a ridiculous rate in recent years, to the point where the team that uses shotgun the least is using it more than the league average from a few years ago

c) A lot of these passes are short — the slants, smokes, and bubble screens — which has created all-time highs for completion percentages and all-time lows for interception rates.

He's right, of course. Bubble screens account for 90% of the Redskins' playbook alone. MDS says it could also be a result of more goal line passing:

Passer rating's reliance on completion percentage yards per attempt and touchdown percentage favors those short slants from the shotgun. Also, Aaron probably has the data on this, but it seems to me that teams are throwing more in goal line situations which would increase quarterbacks' touchdown percentage — the fourth element of passer rating — as well.

So both Schatz and Smith argue that trends in the passing game have proven to conform with the elements of passer rating formula that get you the most favorable outcome, particularly of late. But that still doesn't account for why there's been such a pronounced jump only this year. And why have so many of these QB's have managed to stay so healthy? Think about it. Of the top dozen passers in the league, only McNabb has missed any significant time. Perhaps it's a result of the Brady Rule working, and quarterbacks staying healthier so they can play better? Schatz:

The change isn't dramatic in one year. Based on DVOA, anyway, passing this year is actually slightly down from a year ago. There's a bit more variation between good and bad quarterbacks, but that's in part because there's more variation between the good and bad teams. Roughing the passer calls aren't really up this year either, and I've looked — good quarterbacks don't really draw more roughing calls than bad quarterbacks. And sacks per pass attempt are actually UP in 2009, so jerseys aren't being kept clean.

Overall, I hate to say this, but this is one where the stats simply don't agree with your conjecture. I know we want to believe that this roughing the passer thing has affected QB play, because those flags are so stupid and frustrating, but it hasn't. It has just created some
stupid and frustrating flags.

Translation: "Give it up, Drew. Your theory is pointless and retarded." Fair enough. The passer rating has been manipulated by short-pass, shotgun offenses, and it isn't giving us a good tool to compare quarterbacks historically. BUT I STILL HATE THOSE STUPID AND FRUSTRATING FLAGS! I SAY THE REFS ARE JUICING THE GAME AND TURNING THIS WHOLE THING INTO A PUSSY CARNIVAL, DAMMIT. I know it in my gut!

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

Five Throwgasms

Texans at Colts: I hate you, Steve Slaton. I hate you so fucking much. Where are you from? Levittown, PA? Well, fuck that town, too. And fuck Immaculate Conception Elementary School, which you attended. Sounds like a dickhead school to me. Wikipedia says that, "Until first grade, congestion in his ears rendered Slaton completely deaf at times." Well, I wish you had STAYED deaf, you bastard. So you'd never hear your name called to come into the game and RUIN MY FUCKING LIFE WITH YOUR FUMBLING RETARDERY. Goddamn no good piece of shit. And I hate you too, Ryan Moats. I know damn well that, even though I got you off waivers, you're never going to duplicate that performance again. Fucking Texans running game. Life is shit.

Cowboys at Eagles: There was no Sunday Night game last night in deference to the World Series, and I really could have used one. I enjoy watching the World Series. But on Saturday, I swear Andy Petitte threw to first to attempt to pick off the runner at least 4,000 times. They showed a stat saying Petitte led the league in throwing to first. ANDY PETITTE DOES NOT CARE ABOUT YOUR EXCITEMENT. There's no limit on such things in baseball, which angers me. In theory, you could throw to first a billion times in a row, literally, and it would still be perfectly legal. The only thing keeping some asshole like Petitte doing it is the threat of angry fans running onto the field to knife him. And I think that should be allowed. Stop your game delay tactics, or get shivved in the goddamn ribs.

Steelers at Broncos: I can't take Jaws and Gruden anymore. I really can't. THESE GUYS… I TELL YOU WHAT… THESE GUYS WOULD BE OUTSTANDING IF I DIDN'T WANT TO RAPE THEM WITH A BACKHOE. They love every player. They never shut the fuck up. And they steadfastly refuse to say anything but the full name of every team. I tell you what, Jaws, THE NEW ORLEANS SAINTS HAVE AN OUTSTANDING OFFENSE. When the NEW ORLEANS SAINTS have the ball, you know THE NEW ORLEANS SAINTS ARE GONNA SCORE! It's one thing to never shorten "National Football League" to NFL, but Christ, now they're doing it with every team they cover? It's horrible. They are a fungus on my broadcast. They get louder and chattier every week. WE LIKE TO CALL ANNOUNCERS LIKE THAT JOKERS, BECAUSE THEY ARE EVIL. JOKER JOKER JOKER!

And Jaws, TALK LIKE A NORMAL FUCKING PERSON. Stop fucking orating. You aren't giving a speech to the goddamn UN.

Chargers at Giants: The TV listings last week showed that BET was showing a movie called Charlie Murphy's Frankenhood. According to IMDB, Frankenhood was directed by Blaxwell Smart, and the plot centers around, "Two guys who work at a morgue enlist the services of a reanimated corpse to better their chances at a streetball tournament." There needs to be a comprehensive listing of comedic coattail riders. Charlie Murphy riding Dave Chappelle's. The Seinfeld cast riding Larry David's. You need a list like that, to warn people to stay the fuck away from any solo comedic projects done by these people. These people are like Belichick's underlings. One of my friends saw JB Smoove do stand-up in New York (jokes not written by Larry David) and left midway through.

Ravens at Bengals: Bill Barnwell of Football Outsiders DID confirm that injuries among all QB's are down this year.

Here's the number of games missed by starting QBs through Week 8 in each of the last three years:

07: 29 (Bulger 2, Delhomme 4, Garrard 1, Green 3, Jackson 3, Leinart 2, Losman 3, McCown 4, McNair 3, Pennington 1, Smith 2, Young 1)

08: 28 (Brady 6, Croyle 5, Garcia 1, Hasselbeck 3, Kitna 3, Palmer 4, Romo 2, Young 4)

09: 14 (Bulger 1, Cassel 1, Edwards 2, Hasselbeck 2, McNabb 2, Pennington 4, Stafford 2)

So then, that's a 50% drop in quarterback injuries from the first half of either of the last two seasons. Might be something to that, although there are some mitigating issues for last year (Lions were looking for an excuse to put Kitna on IR). And injury numbers from ‘06 and ‘09 are the same.

So you could take that sampling and say the Brady Rule has perhaps succeeded in reducing injuries (probably not anywhere near a big enough sample to confirm it, but whatever). But where is the fun in placing bounties on QB's if you know they can't be hurt, I ask you?

By the way, Chris Henry looks like a black version of the blue aliens from Avatar. YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE (does wacky alien sign language). That movie looks retarded.

Four Throwgasms

Dolphins at Patriots: Every time someone goes down with a head injury in the NFL, the TV cameraman will always, without fail, find a shot of a woman in the stands with her hands cupped over her mouth, in apparent shock over seeing someone injured at a football game. It's football, lady. Guys get hit. That's the point. Stop acting like you just saw Kennedy get shot.

Three Throwgasms

Panthers at Saints: I can't find a picture online, but the Saints had a mascot the other night named Mr. Saint who was just a guy wearing a fucking giant head with a massive chin. Everyone in the KSK live blog stopped and said WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? The Saints official mascot would appear to be Gumbo the Dog, who is both stupid and gay. So where did this mysterious, Lenoesque second mascot come from? I DEMAND ANSWERS.

UPDATE: TurlieGirlie comes through with a pic of Sir Saint. Baffling.

Cardinals at Bears

Two Throwgasms

Titans at 49ers

One Throwgasm

Redskins at Falcons: Brent Grimes' pick of Drew Brees on Monday Night pictured here) was the awesomest pick I've seen since Charles Woodson had that skyscraper pick against Michigan State back in '97. So cool.

Packers at Bucs: Bay of Pigs! THAT JOKE NEVER GETS OLD, BOOM!

Chiefs at Jaguars: And here, courtesy of KSK reader Tim Tebow's Girlfriend's Tits, comes a sign allegedly posted outside the Chiefs locker room. LOSERS ASSEMBLE IN SMALL GROUPS TO COMPLAIN ABOUT THE COACHES AND OTHER PLAYERS. WINNERS ASSEMBLE AS A TEAM AND FIND A WAY TO WIN. Just rolls off the tongue. Todd Haley is awful. Hey Todd, here's an idea: How about just cutting Larry Johnson, instead of putting up a retarded sign?

Lions at Seahawks: I keep seeing ads for the Family Guy special. Seth MacFarlane looks like a fucking douche. Semi-Donny Osmondesque.

This Week In The Browns' Collapse
Good news, Browns fans! Your team fired GM George Kokinis! Who? He was your horrible GM! But don't worry! Head coach Eric Mangini says things are totally gonna be cool now:

We felt that organizationally this was the best decision in order to move forward.

The Browns hired Mangini and then let him choose his own GM, which is like taking a piss before you lift the lid. Owner Randy Lerner is already looking for a replacement, with former Giants GM Ernie Accorsi mentioned as a candidate. According to the ever-lofty Peter King, the Browns are now eating the contracts of two GM's they fired in the span of less than a year, to the tune of tens of millions of dollars. Whoever they bring in is virtually certain to can Mangini and start fresh. This is good, until you consider just how many times Cleveland has started fresh since 1999. There were the Policy/Palmer Browns. Then the Butch Davis Browns. Then the Crennel/Savage Browns. Now they're going to start over again in record time, and they have the absolute WORST roster in the NFL, which is saying something when you consider how awful teams like Oakland and St. Louis are.

Owner Randy Lerner has already profusely apologized for the horrible losing, AND he sat down with two Browns fans this week to try and make amends.

Randall said Lerner was receptive to their ideas for improving the Browns' game-day experience at Cleveland Browns Stadium (Ed Note: I bet they wanted wider seats) and even tossed out a few of his own. Randall, who has met Lerner several times, came away impressed with the owner's passion and determination to get the Browns turned around.

The Browns' misfortunes have come at the expense of both rotten luck and bad judgment with their hirings. But at least the owner there seems to give a shit. At least he knows better than to meddle. And at least Mangini is going to be fired. It's a lot more than the lame and empty apology Dan Snyder gave to fans earlier this week. Dan will only invite you to a private meeting so he can burn your homemade sign saying HI to your cancer-riddled child.

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

"Private Hell," by Alice in Chains. God dammit, I can't stop listening to this album. Anytime I find an album I really like, I just MURDER the poor thing by listening to it 5,000 times in a row, and then never listening to it again. Anyway, great song. I can't recommend their new album enough. To think you can lose your lead singer, go on hiatus for 14 years, and come back sounding this strong is pretty badass.

Fun Fact about AIC: One the first names they had for the band was Fuck, The Band. They passed out rubbers with the band name on it at early shows.

WHO GOT THE HOOCH?!

WHO GOT THE ONLY SWEETEST THING IN THE WORLD? WHO GOT LOOOOVE, WHO GOT THE FRESHY FRESHY?!!

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? Eco-friendly, waterless toilets giving you unwanted splashback, perhaps? Email me any question or observation you like.

Fantasy Players That Deserve To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Matt Forte and LaDainian Tomlinson. Oh, so NOW you two fuckers decide to produce? Nice timing, assholes. I WILL CUT OFF YOUR BALLS AND POUR IODINE ON IT. By the way, every league has at least one team that has a good roster, yet for some reason gets every other team's best performance every week. So they end up 1-7 because the schedule shit all over them, despite being in the top 5 in total scoring for the year or something like that. It's happened to you, and it's happened to me, and it makes you want to poison the world's water supply. The only solution to this is to go to roto league format, but roto league formatting blows.

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of Chicago was correct, making me 7-1 on the year. That puts the Bears, Colts, Eagles, Vikings, Texans, Ravens, Saints and Skins off the board now. We once again pick a team for your suicide pool and something that makes you WANT to commit suicide. This week's pick? Atlanta, and the advent of the Favre Cam. Obviously, the entire idea of the fucking Favre Cam was offensive last Sunday. But the more disturbing question is, who used it? Because someone surely did. Someone out there turned away from the game broadcast for a moment so they could stare at Favre on the sidelines doing nothing. What kind of person would do this? I dunno. Maybe Biloxi Jim. Or perhaps T Dizzle, who loves feet. Regardless, someone out there, bafflingly, was happy for the Favre Cam. We must find such people and gas them out of existence. You know it's the right thing to do.

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

"This week, I like the Texans getting 9 points on the road against the Colts. I see the Republicans won big governorships on Tuesday night. You know, these constant shifts in political momentum strike me as awfully hollow. It seems to me that most Americans hate ALL politicians equally, regardless of political affiliation. They simply use the election process to kick out one party in favor of another party that they'll end up firing the next go round. The problem, then, is not that Americans choose their leaders poorly, but rather that they have set up a political system that attracts nothing but the most incompetent and arrogant people. Such a shame. Only one group of people could be the architects of a system this evil and corrupt. THE JEWS. Did you know Jews are descended from wolves? Well, they are."

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 5-3. Hmm. Seems Nazi Shark started a cold streak at the exact same time Mr. Bill Simmons did. Coincidence, OR NAZI BETTING CONSPIRACY?

This Week's Pants Party Winner
Last week's Pants Party winner was That Guy. He did not come to claim his prize. This week's winner was J. Burns, who also leads the overall pool. Mr. Burns, come and claim your rant prize.

Great Moments In Poop History
Another week, another steaming pile of pungent stories. This week's story comes from Matt W. I call it, "The Poopgoat":

I was in the 8th grade at a Catholic school, and I played on the CYO (Catholic Youth Organization) basketball team. You didn't have to go to the school to play on the team, so there were kids on the team from the neighborhood that weren't in my class. There were only two of us on the team that actually went to school there. During practice one night, I was struggling to hold back a poop. There was only about 40 minutes of practice left, and I thought I could wait it out until practice is over. Usually if I fight it for a few minutes, the turtle will recede into its shell, and I'm good for another hour or two. Not this time. I was struggling for the final 40 minutes of practice. Crippling stomach pains. I had to run around the court on my toes, to keep from blowing ass all over the hardwood.

Oh, I've done that. Dunno what it is about a full rectum that makes you go tip toe.

The moment practice was over, I ran to the bathroom. As I hustled from the front door of the bathroom to the first stall, I gracefully started to pull down my shorts in one fluid, graceful motion. I entered the stall, and spun around to sit down, ready for the sweet relief. Didn't go as planned. As I spun my ass toward the bowl, I relaxed my bowels a split second too soon, unleashing a torrent of loose stool across the side wall of the stall, and all over the back of the toilet and the wall behind the toilet. I destroyed that stall. Shit everywhere.

The next day at school, me and the other guy from my class that was on the team got called to the principal's office. She sat us down, and explained that someone had defecated all over the bathroom in the gym, and the 8th grade team was the only team to have practice last night. Then she just looked at us. The words hung in the air. "Someone defecated all over the gym bathroom."

My heart sank. I was found out! The jig was up! I decided I needed to confess. I opened my mouth to speak, but I was interrupted by the principal. She said, "Whoever did this is a very sick individual and needs help. This person smeared their own feces all over the walls." What?? I wasn't a sick individual. I just couldn't hold it in. She continued, "I want to know if either of you saw any creepy men hanging around the gym last night, trying to talk to young boys. Because we're now on the lookout. Did you two see anything suspicious?" I was safe!! I made up a lie about seeing some shady men playing pickup games on the outside courts — suspicious looking dudes who looked like they might enjoy smearing poop in public places. The principal thanked me for keeping my eyes open for bad guys.

Not only did I avoid getting caught for pooping all over the place, but I got a fucking merit badge for vigilance.

Well done. Matt W. brings up a salient observation. If you have befouled a bathroom that is NOT yours, you will never clean up your own mess. Ever. I've never known anyone who destroyed an office or restaurant toilet and then volunteered to clean up the wreckage his or herself. Does that mean we're all horrible people? I don't think so. I think it just means we don't like cleaning up our own shit if we don't have to. It's almost a fable.

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

Tom Cable*
Jim Zorn
Eric Mangini
Jim Mora
Jeff Fisher
Dick Jauron
Jack Del Rio*
Todd Haley
John Fox
Norv Turner
Raheem Morris
Lovie Smith

For those keeping score at home, Tom Cable has now been accused of breaking an employee's jaw AND being a serial domestic abuser. He's also a terrible coach who hasn't improved Oakland one bit. And the Raiders STILL haven't fired him. I say he test the waters even further. Perhaps blind an orphan. I wonder just what it would take for Cable to be fired, given that no one else would ever want his horrible job.

Gametime Snack Of The Week

M&M's! You know, they say the milk chocolate melts in your mouth, and not in your hand. And that's all well and good. But they don't say SHIT about the dye from the shell getting on your hands. As a card-carrying member of the sweaty-palmed, I can assure you the shell DOES melt in your hands. Especially if I hold a handful of M&M's for longer than five seconds. After that, it looks like I just smacked a clown.

Ever get those mint M&M's during the holidays? I could eat a barrel of those. I tried ranking the four main M&M varieties for today (plain, peanut, peanut butter, and dark), but it's impossible. It's like choosing a favorite child. I can't put the peanut butter ones last. Peanut butter M&M's are unreal.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week
I'm awash in obscure cheap beer, and I couldn't be happier. Longtime DS commenter Silky JohnSTON! brings us the Chinese malted beverage sensation known as… REEB!

Here is my favorite beer of all time: REEB. It's sold in China, and when I went there with my brother for a trip, as we walked the grocery store aisles for food that looked like it came from a "mainstream" animal or processing plant, we saw it, in between tanks of live horseshoe crabs for sale. Never mind the fact that most people in China don't speak English and wouldn't get the joke if it was just called "Beer", but they had to go and put it in reverse!

Easily the top booze highlight of the trip, more so that seeing the bottle of Ukranian Wheat vodka (just threw up a little in my mouth) we had one night at the club. Anyway, hope it entertains you as much as it did me.

Indeed it does. I also liked the use of the phrase "mainstream animals". If you're in an alleyway eating dog steak, you are 100% indie, people.

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

"Baby, my favorite for the NFL's MVP this year is a TIE between Drew Brees of the Saints and Peyton Manning of the Colts! I heard Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin are hosting this year's Oscars, and I consider both men dear, dear friends. Smart? YOU BET! Crazy after a bottle of Grappa? LIKE WILD BABOONS! In his autobiography, Stevie laid out some precious advice: Don't ask the waitress for her number the first time you go to the restaurant. Get it when you COME BACK the next go round. Sound advice, baby. And that's why Evans gets a little EXTRA service every time he goes drinking at the Ground Round! Thanks for the good times, Beverly, and Cindy, and Rita, and Angie, and Amber, and Kelly, and Anita, and Doris, and Tammy! And you too, Greg! Hey, sometimes you gotta try something new on the menu!"

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Bucs Fans

Pleasantville. I'm not actually recommending this movie. But I never got a chance to complain about this horrible piece of shit when I first saw it, so I'll do that here. Only in Hollywood would they find a way to have white characters be persecuted for being "colored". Fuck you, Gary Ross. Oh my God, the people who are in color are hip and liberated, and the people stuck in black and white are stodgy and repressed! That metaphor isn't telegraphed at all! This movie joins "The Contender" and "Dave" (also written by Gary Ross) in the category of Liberal Message Movies That Make Me Wish I Wasn't Fairly Liberal. I fucking hated this movie, and anyone who likes it is an asshole. (Even you, Roger.)

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"Here at Itchy and Scratchy Land we're just as concerned about violence as you are. That's why we're always careful to show the consequences of deadly mayhem, so that we may educate as well as horrify."

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: From KOGOD comes the NSFW (but kinda worth the risk) Fuck Yeah Brazilian Girls Tumblr site. Honestly, I don't know why every other country on Earth hasn't volunteered to be a colony of Brazil. Brazil should be the dominant global hegemonic power. They've earned it.
-For the gals: Actor Chace Crawford. Is he giving the double hang loose sign? What a loser.

Enjoy the games, everyone.

•Ravens 30, Broncos 7. Baltimore's defense made the Broncos look like the Broncos we expected before the season started. Denver just couldn't get anything going, and a 95 yard kickoff return after halftime sealed the deal.

•Colts 18, 49ers 14. Indy stays undefeated, but this one was close. San Fran led after each of the first three quarters, but Jim Caldwell finally figured out he had Reggie Wayne on his team. Wayne had 147 yards receiving, and caught a TD from Joseph Addai.

•Dolpins 30, Jets 25. A 3-3 game at the half turned into a shootout. Ted Ginn returned kickoffs for 100 and 101 yards, and Miami made one final stand to give the Jets a .500 record going into their bye.

•Cowboys 38, Seahawks 17. And just like that, Dallas is tied for first in the east. For the second straight week, Tony Romo had three TD passes and no INTs, while Miles Austin again led the team in receiving.

•Eagles 40, Giants 17. Okay, time to stop pretending the Giants are an NFC contender. The Eagles' five touchdowns came on plays averaging 40 yards apiece, and those drives took 13 plays. Total.

•Texans 31, Bills 10. Steve Slaton was benched and Owen Daniels injured, both in the first quarter, but that doesn't matter when you've got Ryan Moats. The afterthought rushed for 126 yards and three scores, as the Texans go two games over .500 for the first time ever. The Ryan Fitzpatrick era seems to have petered out.

•Rams 17, Lions 10. The Rams win a game! Despite their kicker throwing for more TDs than Marc Bulger, and despite picking off Matthew Stafford only to be tackled for a safety, the Rams win a game! Of course it's against Detroit, so it's worth about half of a real win.

•Bears 30, Browns 6. We had a Brady Quinn sighting late in this one; that should tell you how it went. Cleveland turned it over five times, but don't worry. They, the Rams, and the Raiders have their byes next week, so the average quality of football should rise dramatically.

The unprecedented quality gap in the NFL has been murder on bookmakers — and it doesn't appear to be closing anytime soon. Last week, 10 of 13 favorites covered, with six games decided by at least 28 points. "We've seen disparity before, but never of this magnitude," says Jay Kornegay, director of the Hilton sports book in Las Vegas.

"The gap is widening between the top and bottom teams in the NFL, and it's not a good scenario for sports books. The general public understands that there are six or seven noncompetitive teams in the NFL this year — and many aren't even covering at halftime. So we don't want a knee-jerk reaction, but we do want to be aggressive because history tells us that some of these teams will be somewhat improved, or at least try to be competitive, where they're covering double-digit numbers."

Yet halfway through the season, the NFL's best teams seem to be gaining momentum, not losing it. Two more double-digit favorites — the Colts and Patriots — easily covered last week, to the dismay of bookmakers. "All the exposure this year with the Bradys, the Drew Breeses, the Peyton Mannings is magnifying the problem for us," Kornegay says. "Your typical bettor knows this and they understand how ridiculously bad some of these bottom-rung teams are."

Bookmakers, according to Kornegay, have been more aggressive about adjusting for "noncompetitive teams" — i.e., point spread inflation — but they're nevertheless still struggling to entice underdog bettors.

"Last week, when you're looking at the Rams getting 14 points at home and the Buccaneers getting 15 points on a neutral field, those historically are huge numbers," he says. "Normally, you'd see maybe getting 10 or 11 at home or 12 on a neutral field, but not 15. So the oddsmakers actually made the adjustments, and the sharper money was actually on the underdogs. The sharper money had one of their worst weeks ever because they were taking the value of these inflated lines. The books couldn't overcome all the parlays that accumulated with all the betting patterns that we saw."

Eventually, Kornegay predicts, the league will strike equilibrium. This time last year, double-digit underdogs were 17-1 against the spread. "Historically, the NFL has always been pretty competitive," he says. "This has got to be one of the worst years as far as the parity — or lack of parity — is concerned."

For a brief moment last Sunday, after Miami struck out to an early 24-3 lead against New Orleans, things seemed to be evening out a little. Then Drew Brees mounted an unlikely comeback to win (and cover), and the house's streak of hard luck continued. "The sports books have gotten a lot of bad breaks this year," Kornegay says. "Philadelphia scored 27 points last week against the Redskins, and they were never even in the red zone. That's crazy. How can you score 27 points without being in the red zone? You play the Redskins, I guess."

Handicap Zone

49ers +13 at Colts:
Kornegay: "The 49ers are an average team. So here we are, an average team going to the Colts and getting 13 points. Historically, that doesn't happen. That's something that's been adjusted because of what we've seen over the last few weeks. The Colts are one of the most popular teams. We've bumped the number up pretty aggressively because we anticipate the action coming in on the Colts."

Broncos +3 at Ravens:
Kornegay: "The Broncos have been one of the sports books' best friend because people have been betting against them all year. I anticipate the sharp money coming in on the Ravens, coming in off three losses and the bye week — and this being a much bigger game for them than for the Broncos."

Bad Beats: Readers Share Their Tales Of Woe

Okay, you want bad beats. I'm a long-time bettor, and here are my two worst.

First, (this one tops them all I think), back in the early 90's before Pete Carroll arrives at USC, they are a bad team, and they are +9 points on the road against Arizona State. Feeling that's too many points for ASU to lay, I bet $300 on USC. Fast forward to the 4th quarter. USC is LEADING by 7 with 1:20 to go. At +9, my bet is a lock right?

Well, sit back and enjoy what happens next. USC coach John Robinson decides to back off on his pass rush, go into a prevent defense, and ASU marches down the field and ties the game with 14 seconds to go. What do I care? I've got USC at +9. So, we go to overtime. ASU gets the ball first and immediately scores a touchdown to take a 7 point lead. Now it's USC's turn. After a 6 yard gain on their first play from scrimmage, their QB decides to throw an out pattern to the right side. The ASU defender reads it, steps in front, and returns it for an 81 yard touchdown. ASU wins BY 13 and covers!!! Still hard to believe to this day!!

Here's the second one. I have the Houston Astros with Roy Oswalt on the mound at the Pirates. This is sometime around 2002. $2250 to win $1500 which is a really, really big bet for me. It's the Fox Saturday game of the week, and the Astros are up 8-2 going into the 9th inning. I am counting my money. They bring in some scrub reliever to mop up the game, and he actually gets the first two batters out. Let me repeat: HE GOT THE FIRST TWO BATTERS OUT!!! So, I'm up 8-2 with two outs in the bottom of the 9th, and the Pirates have no runners on base. Pat Meares, the Pirates .182 hitting shortstop then draws a walk, Orlando Merced gets a single, and the next two batters reach as well.

It's now 8-3, and the Astros manager reluctantly strolls to the mound to bring in a new reliever. The new reliever promptly gives up 2 hits and a walk making it 8-5 with two runners on base. Now the Astros manager walks to the mound again, and signals with his left hand. Billy Wagner, who was half-heartedly warming up, never even dreaming he'd be called into the game, is now summoned to the mound and is thrust into a save situation. He promptly walks the first batter to load the bases, and Brian Giles, the pirates clean-up hitter steps up to the plate. He sends Wagner's first pitch over the right field wall to give the Pirates a 9-8 win. Now, I've taken some really bad baseball beats in the past, but that one sticks out in my mind as being the worst. (Mike C.)

My bad beat story is about the first time I made the trip to Atlantic City . I was about a year out of college, working a crap job that didn't pay a whole lot when a good friend of mine asked me if I wanted to go to Atlantic City . Seeing as how I'd never gone, I said yes. In my mind, I had the luck of being a first time gambler and couldn't lose, as it was certainly my destiny to win big and never have to work again.

I took $500 with me, which is a nice chunk of change, but was definitely A LOT more money to me in 2003 than it is now. We got to AC at around 9 pm on a Saturday, and I proceed to the Blackjack tables, because Blackjack was supposed to be easy to win money playing. By 10 pm, I had no money left. I thought for sure I could get it back, so I went to the ATM and pulled out another $500. Between 10 pm and 11:30 pm, I proceeded to lose the second $500, bringing my losses to $1000. Being the first time I had played Blackjack, at this point I had just started to figure out "my system" to beat the casino and win my money back. My bank at the time allowed me to withdraw $500 every midnight to midnight time period, so I went back to the ATM. At precisely 12:01, I withdrew another $500, and went back to the tables to win my rent, car payment, insurance payment, student loan payment, and credit card payment back. My checking account balance after this withdrawal stood at exactly $38.92, but I knew I would be able to recoup my losses and get most if not all or more of my money back. I don't think I have to tell you what happens next, but I played up and down (mostly down) for about 2 hours, and when I realized I only had $50 of the $1500 total withdrawal left, I stopped playing, and went to go find my friend, who proudly showed me the $1800 he had won playing poker over the last 5 hours while I lost damn near every penny I had.

At that point, I did what any self respecting young man who had just lost his ass would do: I spent my last $50 at the strip club. When I told my friend I was out of money and he would have to pay for gas, tolls, food, etc on the way home, he was kind about it. He even bought me a lap dance.

That loss crippled me financially for months, and it took me a long time to feel comfortable back in AC, or Vegas. Now when I go to gamble, I always tell that story to whomever I'm gambling with, and have them hold onto my wallet after I've taken out the money I know I can lose without setting me back. (Rob)

I got an unconventional story for Bad Beats as it involves me winning some money. But it also involves me cursing my favorite team, so that has to count for something right?

My story starts on a lovely day. June 18, 2006 to be exact. I was a fresh-faced 22 year old, and it was my first time in Vegas. The trip had been planned for months. The main purpose of the trip was so we could bet on like four World Cup games a day. But most remember that June for the Mavs-Heat NBA Finals. Now, I have a huge boner for the Mavs. And as luck would have it, the end of the finals was going to coincide with the start of my trip.

We arrive on the morning of Game 5. This game is pivotal as the Heat has tied the series and the Mavs really need to take this one on in Miami. Now, I should point out that I have a general rule to not bet on teams that I root for. I am to heavily involved to think rationally so I usually steer clear. But I'm in VEGAS. FOR THE FIRST TIME. What better way to bust that cherry than to make my first bet on my favorite team. I mean, they were clearly better than the Heat, so how could they lose, right. Right?

So I go to a few books and place a couple of bets. At one I take the Mavs +2, then at another I parlay the Mavs +3 and the over. I'm looking to make $200 on $50. I'm excited as hell. But I have this feeling that I have just done something disastrous. So, it's game time and we head over to Ceasar's to watch the game. It starts off well for the Mavs and by halftime they are up 51-43. So I decide to get frisky. I go put $30 on the 2nd half over. So, to recap I got $80 down to win about $300. That was a lot for a sheltered Southern Baptist kid who was used to putting 5 bucks in the squares pool at work. The rest is history. The Heat go on a run. But Dirk comes up money. Then D-Wade (FUCK YOU!!!) gets bailed out by the worst phantom call in Finals history and the Heat (or Bennett's Kids as I like to call them) steal a 101-100 victory. But my misery only grows. I look down, and I have won ALL of my bets. I have $300 in tainted money. I broke my rule and now the Mavs have lost three straight. I have cursed my team and now hold cursed money.

Two days later, I watched the end of the epic collapse from the bottom of my 12th Jack & Coke. I vomited on the way back to the room. And I didn't win one bet the rest of the trip...and 6 days later I went home and cried. (Jeff A.)

Share your bad beat with the world. E-mail us at tips@deadspin.com. Subject: Bad beats.

Religious Prop Bet Of The Week: Thetan Edition

Via Paddy Power:

"First celebrity to leave the Church of Scientology"

John Travolta 9/4
Katie Holmes 3/1
Lisa Marie Presley 4/1
Jason Lee 6/1
Priscilla Presley 8/1
Chaka Khan 10/1
Nancy Cartwright 12/1
Brandy 14/1
Beck 18/1
Kirstie Alley 25/1
Tom Cruise 50/1

A few weeks ago I was asked to comment on Carson Palmer's remark that, sooner or later, someone was going to die on a football field. I repeated then what I have figured out over many years of reading and writing about football: that the threat of serious injury has always been fundamental to football's appeal. It makes the players' risks and thus their courage real, their athletic skills immensely more impressive. Each season sees football fatalities, but rarely in the NFL and never on the field due to a blow. The last person to die in an NFL game was Detroit's Chuck Hughes in 1971, but from a heart attack, not a violent collision — coincidentally four days before my Kansas City Chiefs played the Lions on Thanksgiving Day. I still remember the eerie feeling, as I trotted onto the field, knowing that someone had died there just a few days earlier.

Though rare, sudden violent death has always been a possibility in football. Research is now suggesting that the accumulation of little hits can be as dangerous as big ones, with death coming in slow-motion, after years of dementia, rather than suddenly. And everyone who played may be at risk, not just the extreme cases whose grisly stories make for sensational reading.

The occasional tale of a Mike Webster or John Mackey has always grabbed me, but it has also always seemed an extreme case. The recent deluge of reports on the research on the brains of former NFL players feels altogether different. Malcolm Gladwell's comparison of football to dogfighting in The New Yorker didn't jolt me — that bit of melodrama was for rhetorical effect. The grisly accounts of the final days and later autopsies on Webster, Terry Long, Justin Strzelczyk, and more than a dozen others were more jolting, their cumulative effect overwhelming. Chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), of which I'd never heard until a few weeks ago, suddenly seemed the NFL's version of the Black Death.

But what has really jolted me is the less sensational, more mundane research by Kevin Guskiewicz of the University of North Carolina's sports concussion research program. For those who haven't yet read about it, Guskiewicz and his team fitted sensors in the helmets of UNC players through which they could measure the impact (or g-force) of every blow to the head. The magnitude ranges from small to more than 100 g's, the equivalent of a head hitting a windshield in a 25 mph collision (without a seatbelt). Even in practices without full pads players received blows with g-forces in the 50s, 60s, 70s, and 80s. A typical lineman suffered 31 blows during one day of training camp (I'm guessing that that meant two practices). A similar study at the University of Oklahoma determined that linemen experience blows of 20-30 g's on every routine play. And they add up: one neurologist reports that Mike Webster, the first of the former players to be diagnosed with CTE, "endured probably 25,000 violent collisions during his career."

I've been reading these reports less as someone who has been writing about football for many years than as someone, 61 years old, who played a lot of football a long time ago. And as the father of a son who has played more recently. The research on the later consequences of early head trauma raises the possibility that my son and I, too, might have tiny bombs planted in our brains with fuses of indeterminate length.

That's overly melodramatic, too, and I have not been brooding over my future and my son's ever since I encountered Guskiewicz's research. But I have been thinking about things that I thought I knew but now know in new ways.

As I've suggested, I don't believe that I am seriously at risk. I sometimes find myself walking downstairs, only to discover that I've forgotten why I was going, but so do my friends who never played football. We laugh about these "brain farts" as we laugh about our prostate exams and sigmoidoscopies, the routine indignities of getting old. Not the early signs of dementia. But reading about the new research has me sorting through my football memories like a lapsed Catholic returning to the confessional after 40 years. Let's see, I was never a starter in the NFL, only a backup center and special teams player, and I didn't play like a wild man on the "suicide squad." (I was attending grad school at Stanford in the offseasons, after all, not hanging on in the NFL until they had to carry me off the field.) I cannot recall a single diagnosed concussion, but I vividly remember a forearm to my head from Atlanta's Tommy Nobis on a kickoff ... and my head-rattling tackle of a Bronco kick returner on another one ... and, oh yeah, the Bengals' Mike Reid really rang my bell in a practice before the College All-Star Game in 1970 ...

I also have to remember that little hits add up, too, and the brain doesn't discriminate between hits in practice and hits in games. Mike Webster suffered 25,000 hits? My total would be a whole lot smaller. But if I figure 10 games and 30 full-contact practices for each of four college seasons, 20 games and 40 contract practices for each of five seasons as a pro, plus 20 days each spring in college and 20 days in training camp for all nine seasons, that's a conservative estimate of 700 days of contact. Add another 60 days for each of four seasons in high school, and the total comes to about 840 days of contact football. How many hits each day? If I estimate, very conservatively, even 10, the total would be 8,400 (of varying g-force). Not 25,000 but still a lot.

I'm guessing that a lot of former NFL players are running similar calculations these days. Based on how I feel today, I think I'm okay, maybe in part because I have a long neck, wholly unsuitable for an offensive lineman, that perhaps ironically protected my brain. I suffered a pinched nerve in the spring game my junior year at Notre Dame, and for the next six seasons I had to be careful not to use my head recklessly to avoid recurrences. I experienced maybe a dozen "stingers" every week anyway, but now I wonder if those meant the force of the blow was being conducted to my cervical spine, rather than to my cranium.

My physical legacy from 18 years of tackle football is a messed-up spine: disk protrusion, spinal stenosis, degenerative disc and facet disease, etc., in both the cervical and lumbar regions. I have extended bouts of sciatic-nerve pain on my right side and femoral-nerve pain on my left, and pain and numbness from neck down my right shoulder and arm. Surgery is in my future, but for now I'm managing my issues with lots of stretching, exercise and staying fit. If my inconveniently long neck was indeed a shock absorber for blows to my head, I count myself lucky. I'll take my spine over a damaged brain any day.

Linemen of my generation were smaller, 255 to 280 pounds or so, not 300 to 340 (I played center at 242, medium size for a quarterback today). When the rules for pass-blocking changed in 1978, allowing offensive linemen to extend their arms and open their hands, linemen began growing larger, as sheer bulk and upper-body strength became assets. Linemen of my generation blocked more with our heads, but linemen of the following generations have been bigger and stronger, their collisions more violent. I wonder if younger NFL retirees will prove to be more afflicted with CTE than players of my generation.

As a father, rather than a former player, the research suggesting that football can do long-term damage to even high school players is particularly chilling. My younger son, who played football, proved to be susceptible to concussions, getting more or less one per season from about the sixth grade through high school. Lots of parents know the routine: I would awaken him every few hours through the night to ask him his address and phone number, then let him fall back asleep after he delivered the correct answer. Fortunately, he never played for a coach who tried to get him back onto the field before our doctor had cleared him. His mother and I are not obsessing about the possibilities of long-term effects, but given parents' unlimited capacity to worry about our children, that would change the moment he started complaining about headaches.

For now, I'm grateful that I did not face a decision whether to tell my son that he could no longer play football after receiving, say, his second concussion. I know from my own youthful experience and from watching my son and his teammates, as well as from my reading, that football can provide self-validation for boys and adolescents. Whether the needs it serves are biological or social and cultural, football's power derives at least in part from the fact that it is "rough." I've long thought that younger brothers (like both my son and me) were particularly drawn to football as kids; and I've seen in my own community that some of the smallest boys in their classes are among those who switch from soccer to football in the fifth grade, when football starts. Through high school, football can be a useful puberty- and testosterone-management tool.

My son is now 25; the issue is no longer our family matter. (And I don't even want to think about the circumstances that would make me wish I had known when he was in the sixth or seventh grade what we are now learning about concussions.) What do today's younger parents with sons who want to play football do with the knowledge that numerous small blows can have dangerous cumulative effects? If I can presume for a moment to speak for conscientious parents in general, we know that we cannot protect our kids from every possible danger, nor do we want to keep them from all risk-taking or prevent them from becoming self-sufficient. But we do want to protect them from foolish, unnecessary and excessive risks. Will it one day make as much sense to keep your son away from football as it does to strap your toddler into a car seat? For now, the degree and magnitude of the risks from youth football are still uncertain. But the more we learn from researchers, the riskier it seems.

I have no reason to be angry. I have no reason to feel betrayed. I'm not inclined in general to play "what if" with my past, or to brood on what's happened as if I could still change it. In any case, I have no symptoms of cognitive impairment. I'm not inclined to headaches, and my memory lapses seem normal for my age. Because I played too few years to qualify for an NFL pension, I have no history in retirement with the NFL or the NFLPA, let alone a history of denied benefits to which I feel entitled.

But I feel enormous sadness for teammates and other former NFL players who are not as fortunate as I still appear to be. And the future of football seems uncertain right now. The Congressional hearing on brain damage to NFL players will not resolve the crucial questions about just how dangerous football is. For now, parents have more reasons than ever to be wary of letting their sons play football. And the NFL has to worry not only about potential liability for the disabilities of former players, but also about the game's future. One of Roger Goodell's worst nightmares has to be the possibility that football will come to be regarded as boxing is today: a potential and very violent path to celebrity and wealth that only the most economically desperate would consider and that the vast majority of Americans find unpalatable.

We need much more research — on large number of former players, over a long period of time — to know just how dangerous football is to the human brain. Knowing the answer might be a blow not only to the NFL but to all lovers of football. But continuing to not know might be considerably more painful for those who play the game.

Michael Oriard is a professor of English and associate dean at Oregon State University, and the author of several books on football, including Bowled Over: Big-Time College Football from the Sixties to the BCS Era, just published by the University of North Carolina Press. He played football at Notre Dame in the late 1960s and for the Kansas City Chiefs in the early 1970s.