The Cooler: What's On Ice In Week 2 Of The NFL?

Week one of the NFL typically turned perceived realities upside down, and jiggled out the contents of our pockets to reveal actual truths. Dirty tissues, half a pack of Big Red and some loose change tumbled to the floor, but so too did an unpunched Super Bowl ticket. For all 32 teams, confidence remains high, until losses become consecutive. There's still a chance, albeit slim in some instances, of being on that ticket.

It's a beautiful time of year to say the least.

Wake up call for Pats

It's quite possible that Tom Brady exerted all of his energy celebrating that first touchdown pass to Gronk. Hey Tom, maybe drive on past Starbucks next Sunday. He must have had Cameron Wake on his mind all night and needed some extra pep, but it'll take more to stop the quickest man off the edge and with the league's fastest haircut. In week two, Brady faces the fastest truck out of a back lot, Adrian Peterson. It doesn't get any easier.

Scary good defense? 

Is Derek Carr the Raiders next franchise quarterback? He threw for 151 yards and two touchdowns in week one but more than that, Carr just looked the part. His miscues notwithstanding, Carr was confident, smart and got rid of the ball in a hurry. If Oakland can generate some runs from the backfield, Raider Nation might have something to celebrate even before Halloween. But not this week, not with the Texans defense riding into town.

Speaking of defense, how about that Jets line? Rex Ryan is about as tactful as Del Griffith in a motel room, but maybe when it comes to defense that's a good thing. The Jets unsettle signal-callers into a new pair of shorts, and while it's tough to take them on the road at Lambeau, we're not betting against the upset.

Wax on, wax off

The Steelers were sublime in the first half against the Browns. Roethlisberger looked like Plastic Man, extending plays with his stretchy limbs, while Antonio Brown mastered Ralph Macchio's crane kick, and Le'Veon Bell's charges had the Brownies begging for mercy. The defense let down later on, but it's hard to look past that steely attacking display. PS. Hoyer was good for Cleveland, while Manziel held the clipboard admirably.

Real whoppers

It's funny how some QBs get a free pass while others are worked through a grinder. Tony Romo is a hamburger pattie this week. Sure, he missed some very costly throws, but it's not like he was protected all that well early on, nor was he greatly assisted by his backs. But of course, the talking heads have been laying it on thick. Meanwhile, the likes of Joe Flacco, Geno Smith and the forever untouchable Aaron Rodgers waltz into week two like cheerleaders - never out of favor.

And on that note, isn't it about time the St Louis Rams get on the horn to Tim Tebow? In other quarterback news, Derek Anderson is back! But after his strong showing in Tampa, he surely needs to walk away on a high like George Costanza from a Kruger meeting.

"That's it, I'm out!"

If pro QBs moonlighted at your local deli

A photo taken at a Houston-based restaurant rounded the web recently because of its tongue-in-cheek dig at Texans quarterback, Matt Schaub.

The shop's sandwich board read:

Matt Schaub special - Pick Six - Toppings for you burger.

The clever idea got us thinking, what if pro quarterbacks actually moonlighted at your neighborhood deli?

So without further ado...

If Peyton Manning worked your local deli counter, orders would change last second and hit your hands before you looked up.

If Ben Roethlisberger worked your local deli counter, your pastrami on rye would end up sacked in a steaming heap.

If Geno Smith worked your local deli counter, Rex Ryan would insist a sub be named after him.

If Alex Smith worked your local deli counter, sandwiches would be quick and precise, but mostly under-appreciated.

If Cam Newton worked your local deli counter, the service would dazzle but leave you wanting more.

If Aaron Rodgers worked your local deli counter, it'd be high quality but relentless reviews by sports anchors would leave an unsavory taste.      
 
If Jay Cutler worked your local deli counter, orders would fly out with extra mustard and a sprinkle of disdain.

If Tony Romo worked your local deli counter, all wrong orders would be blamed on him, even on his day off.

If Carson Palmer worked your local deli counter, the turnovers would stand out.

Feasting on the NFC East

If Thanksgiving reminded us of anything, it's to be thankful for the NFC East, in spite of the baked and basted Eagles.

The division is mouthwatering, stuffed like a festive bird with all the trimmings---entertaining quarterbacks, rumbling pass rushers, gruff coaches and most importantly, rivalries of immense theatre. That's the key element in prolonging the peak of interest, defying the natural occurrence of a singular crescendo---the theatre of unpredictability. And the reigning champion New York Giants are about as unpredictable as it gets; the Cowboys as disappointing; the Redskins as thrilling; and the Eagles, well, as unseasoned. A dramatic stage has been set.

Already the Redskins deserve a standing ovation. Here was a club, so grossly commandeered from behind the offensive line and via the headset for years, you wondered if owner, Daniel Snyder, might be an even worse distributor of funds than, say, James Cameron, or Michael Bay---both world beaters in that category. Washington is suddenly more animated than Avatar ever was. 

The yet to be knighted Robert Griffin III provides the 'Skins a spread of offensive treats so sumptuous, the half-smoked hot dog from Ben's Chili Bowl is salivating. Certainly his running is a worry for defenders because truly good runners are capricious. Griffin not only cuts, he swivels and launches. It's untenable. But it's something further with him---he's unnerving. Michael Vick can tear past and edge, and yet, his presence doesn't unhinge ends in the same way. Not anymore. Griffin's attack, by contrast, is illusive as he probes for space with his feet, squeezes the ball into gaps as if it were malleable, and he finds room for that hair inside his helmet, perhaps that most unreal feat of all. 

Now that Washington is on a roll, it's feasible they could be carving Christmas turkey with a sense of comfort only a divisional leader can savour. But let's not belittle the Giants. All New Yorkers, not just those of grand political stature, or of regimented blue uniform, fight to the bitter end. It's just their way. So we should assume Big Blue Defense & Co. will bust through any complacency, and ultimately crash the playoffs. It's inevitable and you know it.

So which end of the saloon does that leave the Cowboys? In view of the leggy blonde eyeing out a Springsteen number on the Jukebox, or mumbling into a Miller Lite in the darkened corner beneath the elk? Perhaps halfway up the bar, with neither a shot at Dancing in the Dark, nor receiving hallucinatory advice from a mounted deer.

Tony Romo and Dez Bryant connected on two splendid touchdowns against the Redskins on Thanksgiving Day, which is presumably easy on your home turf and in front of a famous country singer. But for all the Cowboys' wild talent, Romo's relentless gun-slinging, and Bryant's powerful stride, they are surely victims of their own expectations. And ten gallons of good intention can't overcome that.

Against the Burgundy and Gold, America's Team stared down the barrel of a 25-point deficit---and Jerry Jones' distasteful glare---and yet, Romo bullet-holed the opposing defense like it was the O.K. Corral. Four-hundred and forty-one yards worth of spirals from the Dallas quarterback's arm later, the smoke cleared and Griffin's grin sparkled. 

Somewhat like his hero, John Elway, Griffin has that intangible knack for success. This irrepressibility is proving the difference in the NFL's toughest division.

Swimsuit models and QB ratings

Each year, the Madden game hits shelves with new tweaks, iterations, ideas, beeps and buzzes, and of course, a cover shot to supplant the last. Is there a cover outside of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue more hotly anticipated?

Once the new product adorns store fronts, congests blog forums and splashes across gaming magazines, we're regaled of graphical tales about EA labs where Madden's mad scientists whiteboarded new angles, conjured impossible moves, and acted out scenarios while hooked up to motion sensor devices. There are made-for-press-release subtleties like the addition of delicate shadows, artificial intelligence to replicate player tendencies, and generally more layers than a Chicago Bears punter in December. In the end, it's all about increasing the complexity and diversity of the experience so that what is essentially the same game, appears slightly different every summer. It's a well considered project, and with the exception of last year's delayed release, superbly executed.

But there is one aspect of the whole Madden saga that seems overlooked, and which I believe in this age of celebrity and news indulgence makes complete sense: the rate at which a player is distracted off-field. In other words, how much energy is he using, shall we say, between the sheets.

Now on the surface this seems a rather superficial concern, and perhaps not entirely appropriate for a video game enjoyed by kids. But this rating could easily be couched as "game day focus" or "mental preparedness" because such elements are very real considerations in any sporting endeavor. After all, pro football offers some stiff competition - pun intended.

So perhaps the fine people at EA could standardize this statistic for us Madden gamers in their next edition. They could call it the WAG (Wives And Girlfriends) Factor, and score the level of influence or distraction caused by partners of prominent players. Quarterbacks, as the highest profile stars, would be the most suitable category to trial this formula. For example, Tom Brady might score 75 points on the WAG Factor (as opposed to his "Awareness" score of 98 in Madden 12), because if popular media teaches us anything, it's that New England's favorite son hasn't performed to his optimum since dating Gisele Bundchen.

Or how about Tony Romo, who now as a married man might score 83, but surely would have been penalized in 2007 for dating pop music bombshell, Jessica Simpson - the ideal distraction. I'd suggest the former Romo - an 88 scorer overall in Madden 12 - might have tallied 54 in the WAG Factor. Then there's Jets signal-caller Mark Sanchez, who has the enviable task of dating swimsuit model, Kate Upton, but the unenviable delegation of explaining every lackluster performance to the New York media.

After The Sanchize's three-interception stunner against Miami last season, we could possibly deduce a significant level of "distraction". Sanchez may not even notch 50% on Madden's WAG Factor: I'd propose 47. And do we dare imagine the focus of an Upton-smitten Sanchez next season? It's challenging enough for those on the sideline to ignore the comeliness of Sports Illustrated's latest cover model, let alone someone commanding a pro football huddle.