McNair won't escape Black Hole
By Ralph Wiley
Page 2 columnist
Sure, One Nation will bite down hard on the necks of the Tites in the Black Hole, this in spite of Steve McNair. This week, McNair is like Han Solo without the Millennium Falcon. He's like Duane, the black guy in Romero's "Night of the Living Dead." Duane can put up the good fight, though we know what happens in the end.
Steve McNair has been Mr. Tough this season, but even he can't run from the Black Hole in Oak-Town.
But did you see what McNair did last week? Imagine this. Your No. 1 running back folds up like an accordion. You are stuck the rest of the game with a Smurf of a situational back named Holcombe. Your tight end is your fave target. He runs at best a 5-flat 40. You have two receivers who are as a green as the grass at Augusta, and in no way compare to Randle El, Hines Ward or Plexiglass. One of your guys has not yet even caught a pass. You are facing a 15-mph wind in the fourth quarter and overtime. You scrape open the thumb on your throwing hand down to the white meat. Now. Go beat the Pittsburgh Steelers. McNair does it.
You can't say enough about the man, except -- R.I.P.
One man, even one great man, is not enough to beat back One Nation, smelling blood and rent flesh, at home in the Black Hole. But one great man can make it interesting.
Don't even bring Jevon Kearse up in here. Do you hear One Nation chanting "Oak-Town"? Did you hear the strains of the master of the Mothership Connection playing "One Nation Under A Groove"? And did you see the way Lincoln Kennedy inhaled John Abraham? We could go on and on about matchups, and costume design, and strange dietary habits, but there is no need. The denizens are the Black Hole are suiting up. One Nation is hongry.
Also, the Iggles are going to beat Tampa Bay. And you know this, man. How do we know? Ah, there's the beauty of what we do. We know because we know history ... we'll do an autopsy next week and point out slug entry points.
Meanwhile, here are the NFL conference title Uncensored Thought Balloons, bubbling, bubbling, toil and troubling, best served cold, while muttering this incantation: "Eye of Newt, tongue of Frog, Jason Whitlock, and half a hog ...":
By Ralph Wiley
Page 2 columnist
Sure, One Nation will bite down hard on the necks of the Tites in the Black Hole, this in spite of Steve McNair. This week, McNair is like Han Solo without the Millennium Falcon. He's like Duane, the black guy in Romero's "Night of the Living Dead." Duane can put up the good fight, though we know what happens in the end.
Steve McNair has been Mr. Tough this season, but even he can't run from the Black Hole in Oak-Town.
But did you see what McNair did last week? Imagine this. Your No. 1 running back folds up like an accordion. You are stuck the rest of the game with a Smurf of a situational back named Holcombe. Your tight end is your fave target. He runs at best a 5-flat 40. You have two receivers who are as a green as the grass at Augusta, and in no way compare to Randle El, Hines Ward or Plexiglass. One of your guys has not yet even caught a pass. You are facing a 15-mph wind in the fourth quarter and overtime. You scrape open the thumb on your throwing hand down to the white meat. Now. Go beat the Pittsburgh Steelers. McNair does it.
You can't say enough about the man, except -- R.I.P.
One man, even one great man, is not enough to beat back One Nation, smelling blood and rent flesh, at home in the Black Hole. But one great man can make it interesting.
Don't even bring Jevon Kearse up in here. Do you hear One Nation chanting "Oak-Town"? Did you hear the strains of the master of the Mothership Connection playing "One Nation Under A Groove"? And did you see the way Lincoln Kennedy inhaled John Abraham? We could go on and on about matchups, and costume design, and strange dietary habits, but there is no need. The denizens are the Black Hole are suiting up. One Nation is hongry.
Also, the Iggles are going to beat Tampa Bay. And you know this, man. How do we know? Ah, there's the beauty of what we do. We know because we know history ... we'll do an autopsy next week and point out slug entry points.
Meanwhile, here are the NFL conference title Uncensored Thought Balloons, bubbling, bubbling, toil and troubling, best served cold, while muttering this incantation: "Eye of Newt, tongue of Frog, Jason Whitlock, and half a hog ...":
