These were the words of Saints radio analyst Hokie Gajan after the Saints allowed San Diego's Antonio Gates to score his third touchdown of the day in the Chargers' 43-17 drubbing of New Orleans. Hokie's description is a more than adequate summary of the day and, for that matter, this entire season for the Saints. The outcome of this one was never in doubt. On the Saints' opening possession, literacy advocate Aaron Brooks cannily attempted to implement an unorthodox strategy which involved passing the football backwards to a lineman. Brooks gets high marks for creative thinking here. Certainly the Chargers' defense would not be in position to protect that part of the field, nor would they have attempted to account for the sneakily dangerous Wayne Gandy as a receiver. As good as this play looks on paper, things nonetheless went slightly amiss in the execution and.. um hilarity ensued. On the Chargers' next possession they demonstrated the proper way to use linemen as ball carriers when a guard picked up a Ladanian Tomlinson fumble and gained an extra ten yards before being corralled by the Saints'.. um... defense. At this point, I called Dad to make sure he was aware we were witnessing the makings of a classic.
Too much champagne at Tom Benson's wedding? Maybe Haslett should have slept through this one.
Also:
What the hell is up with the sudden wink wink relaxation of the rules governing NFL jersey numbers. Here are Detroit's Roy Williams and Arizona's Larry Fitzgerald.
Shouldn't the NFL uniform gestapo have these guys in 80s by now? What is going on here?
Final athletic competition note: This weekend, I lost an inadvertent gumbo cookoff to Dad. The weather has finally turned cool around here, and we each had the idea to throw together our own pot of chicken and andouille gumbo. While Dad refuses to use any cayenne pepper in his, forcing samplers to drown their serving in Tobasco, he still came out on top due to the fact that I didn't buy enough okra and could not achieve the appropriate thickness. Also Dad has a gas stove and a really big cast iron pot which gives him an unfair advantage. Not to mention that I have a preternatural ability to fuck up rice. Since Dad has only himself and my brother to feed, and I have only Consuela, and since we each cooked enough gumbo to cater Green Bay Packers' team meal there's going to be plenty left over. Anybody hungry?
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