Alas

No NFL team that has a losing record in their division deserves to be in the post-season. Nor does any squad that sustains a five-game losing streak at the most crucial time of the year. Nor does any that suffers losses to the Kansas City Chiefs, Oakland Raiders, and most ignominiously, Cleveland Browns. And certainly, any team that falls twice, count ‘em, twice in a single year, to the Cincinnati Bungals has a right to a spot in the playoffs.

Still, I was hoping that the stars would all align just right and that the Steelers would manage to squeak into the big dance in spite of meeting all the criteria just described; of course, relying on the Oakland Raiders to beat the Baltimore Ravens strikes me as something like counting on Rush Limbaugh to admit he’s a fat-assed lying sack of shit—sure, it’s a possibility, but only a logical one, as opposed to a legitimate probability, and, as it turned out, the Silver and Black succumbed to the Ratbirds, meaning that, the football season, as far as the Steelers, and by extension, me, is over.

Frankly, I’m relieved.

Really.

Now, I can get on with my life on Sundays, without having to importune the football gods with sandwiches and towels; I can perhaps take a few more bike rides than I did last year, and maybe even go skiing once or twice.

Moreover, I can now see how silly it is for anyone to care about what happens in the NFL; I’m able take the moral high ground and turn up my nose at fans who are painting their faces, waving their foam fingers, and otherwise demonstrating their allegiances to overpaid brutes running into each other in spandex pajamas.

There are, of course, many more important things to care about in the world and now that’s become apparent to me; for instance, baseball spring training starts in a month and the Mariners might be decent.