All during the Jets-Bills’ game yesterday and now again around the Internet on Monday morning I keep reading about how Gang Green’s run game didn’t show up. Huh? I’m looking at the box score, and it says the Jets ran the ball 23 times for 138 yards — six yards per carry.
That’s far and away the Jets’ best single-game per-carry average on the season, which makes sense given the way their offensive line was manhandling the Bills’ defensive front. All game long Mark Sanchez, despite plenty of time to throw, is dangerously mixing aggressiveness with inaccuracy. And yet the Jets still pass the ball nearly twice as often as they run it.
So much for ground and pound, eh?
Whatever. They won the game. It shouldn’t have been nearly so exciting, though. And it’s frustrating because when the line’s playing as well as it did yesterday, in Shonn Greene and Joe McKnight you can start to see the vague suggestion of an awesome and very potent thunder-and-lightning type backfield platoon that could combine with the Jets’ defense to chew up game clock and win lots of football games.
Only then, just when you think it’s about to start happening, for some reason Sanchez is lined up in the shotgun with an empty backfield.
I know Brian Schottenheimer has become sort of a great Jets-fan bugaboo, and I’m participating. He’s far from the team’s only problem. Until the last drive, Sanchez played terribly yesterday. His touchdown-heavy statline bails him out, but it was not a good game.
There’s a combination of flavors and textures in the banh mi that’s not found in most sandwiches traditionally produced by Western cultures. It’s the exquisite product of cultural interchange: Southeast Asian flavors with delicious, crusty French bread, and you just know if you trace back the history there’s all sorts of unspeakable colonial awfulness involved (kind of like Thanksgiving, really) but if you’re staring at the sandwich you can overlook it all for a second and revel in the years-later byproduct of imperialism.
Beavis and Butthead: This is kind of a two-part thankfulness item. I’m thankful that Beavis and Butthead are back on TV because Beavis and Butthead are hilarious. I don’t know if you’ve caught any of the new episodes, but I find myself laughing nearly as hard and as often as I did when they ran the first time, back when I shared an age and general mindset with the show’s heroes.
Most of them focused on the plot, which is more or less what you’d expect from a Harold and Kumar Christmas movie: Holiday-themed stoner hijinks, framed by the now-rich Harold’s search for a Christmas tree to impress his terrifying father-in-law after the still-slacking Kumar burns his down. For much of the movie Harold and Kumar aren’t really friends, which is at least vaguely interesting.
Brannon — arguing that he is older — makes one very good point: If Pujols were admittedly 17 or older when he immigrated, he would have been ineligible for high-school baseball and thus unable to put his ridiculous awesomeness* on display for college coaches.
OK so maybe I’m reading this wrong, but please tell me this means there’s soon going to be a production of a musical version of Rocky called Rocky, Das Musical IN GERMAN produced in part by Sly Stallone and the Klitschkos featuring “Eye of the Tiger” and described by its composer as a “visceral street opera.”
Tedquarters 