Briefly: Rush vs. Slaughter? (or: “Steve McMichael, Friggin’ Genius?”)

Allow me to quote directly (and completely) from Dave Kaplan and Fred Mitchell’s Around Town column in the Chicago Tribune today:

Steve McMichael, coach of the Indoor Football League Slaughter, has issued a dare to the Rush of the new Arena Football League.

“I want to challenge them to a game or a scrimmage,” McMichael said Friday during a news conference to announce that former Bears quarterback Jim McMahon is among the team’s new owners. “I think it would be great for Chicago. I know (one of) their owners, Mike Ditka, (whose favorite charities are) Misericordia, the Walter and Connie Payton Foundation … the money can go to that.”

When was Steve McMichael granted the wisdom of Solomon? I always thought he was recommending cleaving infants in two because he was bughouse crazy. But perhaps he was… crazy as like unto a fox? On the other hand, if the infant AFL wants to keep the IFL as a satellite, AAA league, the Rush had better only accept this game if they think they can win.

IT LIVES (Bon Jovi-less, and Distinctly Lacking Grudens)

Perhaps you’ve noticed a subtle buzz around the water cooler; there’s a spring in your step, the source of which you can’t quite identify. The sun shines a little brighter, and strangers smile at each other in the street.

This is probably because olympic curling starts today in Vancouver.

Also, hey: the AFL is back! We don’t even have to call it Arena Football One (1) anymore! According to sources (a profootballtalk.com post forwarded to us at least twice), the old nomenclature was used on a conference call from the league. WOOOO. AIN’T NOTHIN’ STOPPING US NOW!

Rising! Like a phoenix! Or a Firebird! Whatever!

We were going to wait until this clusterfuckery ended, and there were some actual games to be played, or data to be massaged, or characters to be assassinated, but whatever. There was a conference call! Kosar and Ditka are back! It’s a war! Indoors! On the floor! Petit four! Esprit de corps!

Who’s involved?

South Division: Alabama (Huntsville – space camp!) Vipers, Jacksonville Sharks (Al Pacino-coached), Orlando Predators (Now with Zero Grudens),  Tampa Bay Storm (Brett Dietz!)

Southwest Division: Bossier-Shreveport (LA) Battle Wings (served with a side of bleu cheese dressing), Dallas Vigilantes (Dr. Dolezel bought the name Desperado for his own perpetual use, thank you), Oklahoma City Yard Dogz (I will never use this name), Tulsa Talons (formerly the Pittsburgh Phlanges)

Midwest Division: Chicago Rush (Wooo! We’re getting the band back together!), Cleveland Gladiators (Wooo? We’re getting the band back together?), Iowa Barnstormers (Look, it’s not like Kurt Warner’s doing anything), Milwaukee Iron (Wooo. We’re getting the band back ”together.” With Ringo’s kid playing the drums.)

West Division: Arizona Rattlers (I wonder if the money-back guarantee’s still good), Spokane Shock (more like shocked to find themselves in Spokane, am I right? Oh, let’s just get through this), Utah Blaze (who are currently holding open tryouts, and that’s really the only news of use on arenafootballone.com)

Conspicuous by their absence: Jaws/Bon Jovi-owned Philadelphia Soul, only the current Arena Bowl Champions; Grudens; ESPN (Hooray? The NFL Network?); San Jose Sabercats and ol’ LazerQBVision; actual useful data.

On the other hand: football games, starting April 10. -ish.

Da Coach says…

 

Da Coach.

“One is enough for now.”

 

Playoffs! Round 2?

Smurfit-Stone Building = Go Rush

Yeah. That’s all I’ve got. Happy Independence Day!

“Someone, Get Me a Helmet! Quickly!”

Apparently, in the correct circumstances, the AFL is so fan-friendly that one can simply walk off the street and be invited on to the team. Joe O’Donnell, a friend of the Chicago Rush’s John Moyer, was attending the game with his wife when Paul Edinger got a bit of a groin tweak during pre-game. Faced with the prospect of having no kicker and embarrassingly being forced to deliver the ball to the other team by yelling “Waaaaarning: kickoff!” and throwing the ball downfield, Chicago mustered an impressment gang, who were instructed to roam the stands for able-bodied kickers (much to the dismay of James Madison, but to the ultimate delight of O’Donnell). With merely 15 minutes available between the injury and roster submission deadline, the Rush did what any right-thinking team would do: they provided “shoes, shorts, T-shirt and an emergency tryout,” and I hope ultimately a helmet and pads, but what do I know?

O’Donnell went 5/7 on extra points making him – a kicker who last kicked an oblong spheroid through ordinary-sized uprights in 2004 while trying out for the Chicago Bears – not tremendous, but certainly serviceable. The bad news, of course, is that he missed his first and last extra points in a 50-47 loss, and kicked the final onside kick directly to Troy Bergeron. Troy Bergeron doesn’t know how to make mistakes on the hands team. He’s heard of these “mistakes,” oh, yes, but he has no context in which to put the content, so the idea of error is meaningless.

Which is really a damn shame, because you know that if it came down to a field goal to tie, and this guy made it, Disney would have bought the rights to the story on the spot. (Note: Joe – prepare to take dictation. We shall call it… THE LONLIEST GYPSY KICKER.)

In any event, bravo, Joe O’Donnell: to kick 5 extra points cold in a professional game means you have some serious intestinal fortitude, friend. Ice water in the veins. A large set of cojones. ONIONS.

[Thanks, in part, to Sam, who insisted I make note of this in a timely fashion.]

BREAKING: Paul Edinger re-signs with Rush

Apparently disoriented after his original exit from the Allstate Arena, Edinger, with his back positioned to the door that almost hit him on the way out, re-entered the facility with equalled accuracy just in time for the Rush’s playoff run.

According to Edinger,

“It’s all fun,” he said. “If anything, [the narrow goal posts] can’t help but improve my accuracy. And I just want to play. It’s still kicking a football and that’s what I really love doing.”

So much so that he apparently ditched his wife at their new Costa Rica home to get back to Chicago. That tag is there for a reason, kids.

Hat-tip to our buddy Sam for the lead.

Bwah?

Guh? Utah 51, Chicago 48?

P.S. That’s why you don’t cut your veteran all-star kicker 15 minutes into the season, idiot. It’s bad juju.

Da Coach Says…

“Man, that’s really the last time I go to Cesars… what? We won? ¡Victoria!” 

Holy Mother of God, Utah Wins! Philly Loses! (Also, MN(A)F Preview)

Ah, yes, the low-hanging fruit of posting this Far Side picture. In this allegory, Utah’s the door, by the way.

Holy flaming dog-poop! Utah won their pillow fight with Kansas City for their first victory of the season! Success and joy abound, for Coach/GM/Incompetent Buffoon Danny White’s urge to kill is subsiding! I could cover this in the Weekend in Review that tends to go up on Wednesday-or-not-at-all-sorry-about-that, but screw it. 1-9, baby! No zeroes here! All right! Let’s you, me, and our 12,000 friends celebrate.

Wait - 12,208 people saw this game? For real? An 0-9 Utah draws 12,000? What were they giving away, gold bullion? Was it “Full price ticket for the first wife, all extra wives are free” night? (Ah, yes, polygyny jokes in re: Utah. Will you never get old?*)

On the other hand… the completely mysterious Cleveland Gladiators managed to capitalize on smashing Matt D’Orazio’s bones to a fine powder, forcing a somewhat-rusty Tony Graziani into the game. Cleveland… controlled the clock? I mean, it was a relatively low-scoring affair, and the Gladiators got four rushing touchdowns out of Marlon, excuse me, Marlion Jackson, so… presumably… I seriously have no idea what to make of Cleveland. I have to presume that Bernie Kosar now just wears a cape and a zorro mask and hides in shadows, leaping out at unsuspecting owners.

[Ominous voice] No team remains unbeaten. No team remains winless. [/Ominous voice]

As for tonight’s tilt in Tampa between the semi-mighty Chicago Rush and the mostly-spastic Tampa Bay Storm, well, let’s just say our loyalties are divided. On the one hand, a human being who’s been nice to us, which allows us to overlook the fact that it seems that he’s on his back a distressing amount of the time and while he gets his stats, there hasn’t been as much, you know, winning as one might like. On the other hand: blatant homerism! WOO! Our city rocks the hardest! We have deep dish pizza and beef sandwiches and HOLY SHIT: MARIO’S ITALIAN LEMONADE OPENED FOR THE SUMMER LAST WEEK.

[The sound of a chair being flipped over, doors slam, minutes pass]

Where was I? Oh, yes: torn between whatever the opposite of a rock and a hard place is. Here’s the analysis: Tampa Bay hasn’t done well against defensive pressure, which is the only thing Chicago’s consistently shown. If Brett Dietz, the Finnish Flash, can escape from the Rush D, they’ve got a puncher’s chance. Michna’s a good kid, but he doesn’t quite have ice water in the veins yet. You know when you turn on the tap to “cold,” and you run your hand under the stream and say to yourself, “Well, I could drink that, or I could see if there’s anything left in the Brita,” but it’s colder than tepid? That’s what Michna has. Chicago has the defensive edge, and they’re even on offense.

My theory? Chicago pulls out a squeaker, but Tampa Bay gets some sort of moral victory. OR, if the Storm do pull this one out, expect them to go on a second-half run, a la last season.

From The Rules Broadcast

A couple of days late, I know, but nevertheless, we promised clips of referees talking about things, and we shall deliver!

First, a grab of the “Madden ’98″ graphics I was referring to:

Throwbacks! As for the rest, well, there’s the old saying that there are two things you’re better off not knowing how they’re made: sausage and laws. We can add “sorting out complicated officiating infractions” to that list once I figure out how to make it pithier. Enjoy:

My favorite part is the bit where they show the stands from just behind the referee. The Kansas City fans do not look happy, and it makes me not want his job. If you were curious about the guy in the brown suit jacket who is irate at the end of the clip, it’s owner Neil Smith, who, we’re happy to say, watches from the stands.

We also get a clarification on what sorts of celebrations are okay, and what aren’t. I’m with Ray and Bob: that line’s pretty arbitrary.

“You can pump all night,” indeed…