Flickering

Hope, said Emily Dickinson, is the thing with feathers; in the case of the Pittsburgh Steelers, though, I’d say it’s more like something that should be carrying a dart gun to shoot roofie-tipped projectiles at the best players on the New York Jets, Baltimore Ravens, and Houston Texans, since in order for the playoff hopes of the Black n’ Gold to be realized, it’s going to take some serious stumbling on the part of at least two of those three teams.

But at least things are going down to the wire; even though Pittsburgh doesn’t “control their own destiny,” they will be playing a meaningful game on the last day of the season, something that the majority of NFL teams won’t be doing, meaning that their fans would have to really be fans to care, except, I think, in the case of the Seattle Seahawks, who—with their embarrassing defeat yesterday at the hands of the Green Bay Packers (48 to 10 or something like that)—hardly deserve to be cared about even by the most rabid of supporters (if there are any left.)

The Steelers have what the pundits always call “flickering” playoff hopes, which frankly, is good enough for me since, as recently as two weeks ago, it was more like they were dangling from a tree with a rope around their neck, although I should reiterate a point I made earlier, to wit: I don’t really care about pro football and it makes no difference to me whatsoever whether or not the Pittsburgh Steelers make it into the post-season, even though it would make that first weekend after school starts in January just a little more palatable, that I do have to admit.

I brought out all the stops yesterday to help the boys from the Burgh prevail: picked up all the backyard dog poo, mopped the kitchen floor, drank Rolling Rock as the second half began; with hope like that, who needs feathers?