25 minutes in, 14-14 but IRE is knocking on the door.

Saban is 7-4 against Auburn – certainly dominant, but certainly not a certainty. And the Eagles do like messing up the Tide’s New Year’s vacation plans here and there.

Strong chance of Tree-hugging tonight!

OK, now that I shut down the discussion on rock music and Irish something involving points, I’ll shut it down on the No Fun League.

The Noo Yawk papers have been crowing all week that “Gronk is Done”, as if that would help the hapless J-E-T-S JETS JETS JETS get out of their own way.  Given the Noo Yawk green-whites have managed to get their new franchise QB injured (why am I not surprised?  They’re cursed, I tell you.)  I give them little chance against Biebs, Cheatin’ Bill and the rest of the Cheating Cheaters of Cheatertown.  Even without Gronk.

On the other side of the Hudson, it’s G-Men v. Iggles.  Where do I get that “other side of the Hudson” stuff?  Well it’s a pretty well-known phenomenon, at least around NYC, that fans of the J-E-T-S JETS JETS JETS and the Mutts, teams known for losing, losing and losing some more while doing so in uniquely odd and embarrassing ways are concentrated in places like Queens, non-hipster Brooklyn, Long Island, i.e., all EAST of the Hudson.  (Hipsters are busy having whatever is the new trendy thing to eat following on the heels of $20 avocado toast.)  OTOH, the fanbase of the G-men and Yankees is more strongly concentrated in the Bronx and Jersey.  You can look it up.  FWIW, there are only team owners, wealthy expats hiding their money in the US and their local servants living in Manhattan, so they’re either not fans or too few in number or influence to count.

Anyway, the G-Men will head down the Turnpike (or possibly take the Acela – a cross-promotion that gets run every now and again) to the Linc, to face an Iggles team hanging to its playoff life by a thread.  After the Owboys beat the ‘skins Thursday evening – during “I’ll have another slice of pumpkin pie” time – I have to tolerate that they are presently leading the NFC East and remain likely to do so.  Yes, Drew Fookin’ Brees and the hydra-headed monster that is the Saint’s O are scheduled to come to Jerryworld this coming Thursday and I fully expect them to win.  But without Alex Smith or his rightful replacement (Kaep – Fate should have dictated he replace Injured Alex yet again, because) under center, The ‘skins just don’t have the horsepower to overcome last week’s loss and the concomitant intra-division lead the Owboys now have.

Speaking of Dallas, since reruns of the Adam West Batman series have disappeared from the airwaves (possibly for the first time in 50 years – I think so they can sell the DVD version), I’ve had to look around for other Saturday evening viewing.  One of the 4-digit cable channels plays reruns of the old b/w Avengers series at a decent hour.  Last night Steed and Cathy Gale infiltrated (and successfully broke up) a warlock’s coven cooperating with some agent with a vaguely-Eastern European accent trying to use the Dark Arts to steal state secrets.  One of the participants in the coven’s ceremonial dance looked like a younger Jerry Jones.

It was him.  Prove me wrong.  Go ahead and try.

Anyway, the Iggles have their problems with injuries and shaking off that Super Bowl Hangover.  I think they have no – count them, zero – uninjured cornerbacks active this week.  Even for a superannuated  Eli*, that translates to a good day passing.  Assuming the rain holds off.  Last week Saquon Barkley showed a glimpse of what he could be, scoring 3 TD.  I think this is one where The G-Men have a good chance of winning.

I’ve waited to discuss my Stillers until now not for any good reason other than I’m lazy or something.  As one commentator said “Blake Bortles arm is only there for decoration.”  Problem is, but for that flag in the end zone negating another Ben INT (in the end zone with less than a minute left), the Jags win that game.  As someone wiser said:  “you might as well change their name from the Jags to the Rooneys, because they own the Stillers”.

The same can be said about the Broncos, at least at Mile-High.  I can still see Tebow running riot over them in the playoffs a few years back, black-and-gold defenders looking as clueless as would Australopithecus in Times Square.  Or Michigan’s defense yesterday.  It’s seared into my cerebral cortex like the time I saw a motorcyclist wrap himself around a guardrail at 60 mph, about 50 yards in front of my car.

I think there is something in the Stillers’ collective team memory about the Broncos and the many times the Stillers have lost to them at Mile High which plays itself out every time they go there.  They need to make sure they packed the offense before getting on the plane, and didn’t leave it in Pittsburgh like they did last Sunday.  Even so, I have to wonder whether the high altitude will play hell with the PV=nRT and make Ben & Co. flub passes they make at normal elevations.

On another note, can we stop talking about Bad Teammate LeVeon Bell already.  Rather than Kaep, he’s the one deserving a blackball.

Weather’s foul here.  Time to make turkey soup (and clear that frame out of the fridge).

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*From the geezer department, there was a bit on the TV this morning about a senior league hockey team still playing, calling themselves the Bald Eagles.  Yes, they check and yes, they lift shots.  Apparently, they’re all retired, grandfathers or both.  Their goalie is 85, had both hips replaced, and still manages to block shots.  He has announced his retirement, pending their finding a replacement.  Who has not yet shown up.  Badass.  Biebs, Brees, Eli all have a way to go.