Aaron Rodgers goes to Egypt for good street food ... or maybe to re-enact Stargate

Aaron Rodgers missed mini-camp because he was in Egypt, where apparently he was on vacation, not top secret business. But we know better, don't we!

Listen up Jets fans, a trip to Egypt can only mean one of 5 things, so let's explore the possibilities:

1. Aliens: Rodgers has been in touch with space crafts that texted him about the origins of the Pyramids. The messages urged him to visit the grand structures and inscribe his initials on the wall of an ancient toilet within.

2. Street food: The Jets QB heard about a fantastic falafel stand just outside of Cairo and was eager to try it before anyone else at ESPN, you know, for a review on McAfee. 

3. Relationship-building: He thought the trip would help him get closer to Coach Saleh, who unbeknown to Rodgers, is actually Lebanese. 

4. Travel mishap: He told a New York cabbie he was headed to the Falls in East Ridge and, what do you know, he ended up on the other side of the world. 

5. Binging: A late-night sci-fi move session ended up with No.8 high as a kite and grasping for answers. Unable to shake the plot from Stargate, he frantically searched for a portal on eBay and early the next morning, charged through it, American flag in hand.

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Aaron Rodgers calls up Tom Brady for quarterback advice

 

After stunning the NFL world with some uncommon mediocrity (good band name that), Aaron Rodgers and Tom Brady got on the blower for some consoling and counseling. We tapped that call using a high-tech headset loaned to us by Bill Belichik. It went as follows ... 

Brady: "Hey man ..."

Rodgers: "Hey, how you doin'?"

Brady: "Well we finally won - you see it?"

Rodgers: "Nah, I was picking up a black cardigan at Walmart ... but good for you, man."

Brady: "Thanks, thanks - feels good. How 'bout you guys, what's goin' on?"

Rodgers: "Argggghhhhh .. I don't know, I don't know ... just crap ... dammit! We're dog-sh*t."

Brady: "Hey take it easy man - language!"

Rodgers: "Oh, sorry, you with the kids?"

Brady: "Naw, I'm making a celery shake ... I just don't like negativity in the air when handling marshland plants."

Rodgers: "Sure, sure, I hear you. Speaking of which, let me turn the fan on, I just cut one - damn vegan donuts."

Brady: "Oh, I love those ...but yeh, they can hit between the numbers ..."

Rodgers: "Oh daaammnnn ..."

Brady: "So I just saw the score man - the Lions?! Wow ... what the f$%@ happened?

Rodgers: "Ahhhhh, no idea ... every throw ... it's there, but not ... er, I'm off balance ... kilter... it's killer ... like when you finish a latte, you know, and you realize the jerk-wad gave you full cream instead of almond ... it's seconds before you drop your load at that point ... but I'm relaxed, you can't clench."

Brady: "Totally, totally. Man ... I feel for you ... it's not easy, it's taken us weeks to get another 'W', and even then ... it was a total toss-up."

Rodgers: "I just saw it on TV ... you think I need to yell more like you do?"

Brady: "Couldn't hurt. Listen, I blasted my Uber driver last night after hot yoga and I've never seen a m@&#%$*er drive so quick, you know?"

Rodgers: "Yeh, yeh. I was going to unleash on some reporters today ...such, ah, er, asinine questions ... but changed my mind 'cause I remembered I like press ... and a lot of it."

Brady: "Of course. It's all about being heroism at the end of the day. And you know what A-R, among all the sh*tty QBs right now, nobody looks more heroic than an older skinny guy."

Rodgers: "You're right, we are incredibly ... ah ... yeh ... did you see me in all black during the presser? The hoodie, the hat ...

Brady: "I saw man! I almost spat my beetroot taco ... you looked freaking deadly, like Papa Smurf crossed with a ninja -- "

Rodgers: "That's exactly right, that's ... well ... I call it Ninja Smurf!"

Brady: "That's terrific man ... hey listen, I've got a double date tonight so I gotta run, but you hang in there, okay?"

Rodgers: "For sure man, who you seeing?"

Brady: "Oh nobody you know - they're twins ... "

Rodgers: "Oh good, good for you. Two-man rush, eh?"

Brady: "Easy ..."

Rodgers: "Oh, right, celery ..."

Brady: "Keep your chin up, alright ... and try not to throw off you backfoot ... sidearm ... or with sourpuss on your face ... or all three at once ... you know what I mean."

Rodgers: "Yeh, I know. Arrggghhhhh ... I might go shopping for a black snuggie ..."

Brady: "That-a-boy! And try one of those potato shake recipes I emailed you. Take care, 12."

Rodgers: "You too, 12, hugs."

Brady: "Out."

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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.

NFL schedulers need a flux capacitor

Nobody promotes its product ahead of time like the NFL.

The 2012 regular season NFL schedule was released this week, with the first kick-off featuring the Dallas Cowboys and New York Giants on Thursday, September 5. The last time somebody advertised this far in advance, Hollywood ended up with actors much older than their characters - but because it was a movie about a time travelling DeLorean nobody cared.

It's surely an arduous decision locking in the season's initial game, finding the right balance of nationwide appeal, competitiveness, rivalry, and high-caliber cheerleaders. In the current instance, the Giants are the champs, and presumably the Cowboys are in the, er, best position to topple the champs? Sure, there's a rivalry here but who are we kidding? I'd rather see Calvin take on Hobbs on opening night.

If we run down the first weekend schedule, a couple of other games are decidedly more enticing. For a start, 49ers - Packers, a renewed rivalry with cheese melting potency, will be a cracker, with Aaron Rodgers battling the Niners stout defense, and Alex Smith vying for real credibility following a strong playoffs. Or how about Cam Newton slinging deep balls and wielding spin moves against Josh Freeman and the Bucs? That'll be more compelling than Tony Romo hitting the deck and shoving his shoulder pads back under his jersey every second play.

The Monday nighters feature sexier rivalries than long-legged label touters on the red carpet, despite the fact that both Carson Palmer and Phil Rivers have been about as effective lately as Bobby Valentine in the Red Sox clubhouse. Fried chicken and beer don't look so bad now, right?

Peyton Manning's Broncos play Big Ben's Steelers on the Sunday night, which might even give Megan's party for Don on Mad Men a run for its money, as the best ways to cap off a weekend. Congratulations to the league on that one.


Looking down the list, there are some other regional contests that will appeal to an excitable few, like the Jets and Bills, or the Rams and Detroit - the latter, especially, feels like a matinee must-see. You be the judge.

Sunday, Sept. 9

Colts at Bears, 1 p.m. ET
Jaguars at Vikings, 1 p.m. ET
Bills at Jets, 1 p.m. ET
Dolphins at Texans, 1 p.m. ET
Patriots at Titans, 1 p.m. ET
Rams at Lions, 1 p.m. ET
Redskins at Saints, 1 p.m. ET
Eagles at Browns, 1 p.m. ET
Falcons at Chiefs, 1 p.m. ET
49ers at Packers, 4:15 p.m. ET
Seahawks at Cardinals, 4:15 p.m. ET
Panthers at Buccaneers, 4:15 p.m. ET
Steelers at Broncos, 8:20 p.m. ET

Monday, Sept. 10

Bengals at Ravens, 7 p.m. ET
Chargers at Raiders, 10:15 p.m. ET

Titans of the throwing industry

Among the many strange criticisms of Eli Manning is that he looks like a 12-year old. Even David Letterman was taken aback by the Super Bowl champ's fresh faced appearance last week. 

"It seems to me you've gotten younger since the last time I saw you," Letterman said.

"I have," Eli quipped. 

That Eli appeared stiffly in a blue blazer and maroon tie, his hair parted to one side like a Lego man, should not be an indictment of his personality - and yet, for many people it continues to be. An inordinate number of media and fans just don't to like the younger Manning, or at least, see him as an easy target. He's not accurate enough: that comes up, doesn't it? And sure, he's about a 58 per cent career passer. (But then again, he's thrown for 27, 579 yards and 185 touchdowns). Other people like to call Eli lucky, as if to say, his industrious and determined nature have nothing to do with his success. Aren't lucky athletes, simply quick-thinking, inventive and opportunistic?

The bottom line is that Eli isn't really cool. He's nice. He's the guy you'd like your sister to bring home. He's the opposite of Tom Brady, whose sharp looks and contemplated hair, perfect passes and cool nature, and broad shoulders and leggy wife, are all so fantastical that most people can't stomach hearing about his success. As fans, we can certainly be pedantic can't we? We don't like the goofy, and we tear down the  fashionable. What's the middle ground, Aaron Rodgers? Maybe. He's not perfect either, you know.     

Part of the problem is that the quarterback-jock icon is embedded in our minds, mostly due to Seventies and Eighties coming-of-age movies. He’s the guy with the delicate mane of hair, the Cruise-esque smile that looks hinged by screws, and obviously, the busty blonde cheerleader girlfriend on his arm. Life is charmed for the high school QB: consider that nobody else can wear painfully tight stone-washed jeans and still claim the respect of his friends.

It’s not until a QB hits the pro ranks, however, that he's personality is truly tested, that he earns his strips. He’s no longer dating the head cheerleader but rather, a supermodel; he’s paid in millions of dollars instead of cafeteria hamburgers on-the-house; and most importantly, he competes in a world that offers immortal status to those who excel - the Hall of Fame. It's high pressure, relentless scrutiny and a position that requires constant off-field maintenance along with on-field results. Just imagine having to cope with that in your own career.

When thinking about the coolest quarterback cats ever, the men whom somehow dodged the critical rush and thrived in all facets of modern athletic superstardom, Jim McMahon springs to mind. McMahon, a wise-cracking, showboating prankster, who had a penchant for headbands and big sunglasses, was also a skilled signal-caller who didn't care about what you thought. Boasting a strong arm and an uncanny knack for reading the game, McMahon was of that rare breed who could impact a contest with larger than life presence. He  took things into his own hands, seemingly in retaliation to the regimented and stern regime of Head Bear, Mike Ditka, and because he seemed unfazed by consequence. This deliberate bravado, and perhaps angst, helped him conquer the NFL, even when he appeared wildly out of control. At Super Bowl XX, for instance, when asked by reporters about a buttock injury, McMahon dropped his pants and mooned them. And on his own Letterman appearance in 1986, McMahon slouched and grinned behind oversized sunglasses like he was trying to impress the other kids in class. It was frigging awesome.

While McMahon was loose and aloof, Brett Favre was everyman tough - and that made him likable, or at least "relatable". Off the field, their were some misgivings, to be sure. But before all that, Favre defined "gunslinger" and in turn, built a persona based on heroics and hi-jinks. After all, he ripped a locker room towel whip with as much fervor as a 40-yard Hail Mary. That's the sort of teammate everybody wants. He performed the immaculate, and still always felt so mortal.

There are of course so many popular quarterbacks, from Unitas to Montana, Staubach to Elway, and perhaps the NFL's smoothest all-time operator, Joe Namath (GQ magazine included Namath in its 25 Coolest Athletes of All Time in 2011). But in this pantheon of football poster men, a guy whose name surprisingly logs less Google or YouTube searches than others, is Warren Moon. Some pundits say Moon went undrafted in the NFL because he was black. Others simply question his suitability as a quarterback. Without trivializing the situation, it was perhaps a blessing that Moon ended up in the Canadian Football League anyway, firstly to improve his game, and secondly, to stick it to the doubters. Resilience and defiance, too, have been known to motivate people in the bleachers.

During six seasons with the Edmonton Eskimos, Moon commandeered an unprecedented five consecutive Grey Cup championship runs and threw for 21,288 yards and 144 touchdown passes. After proving his wares, it was of little surprise that the NFL finally came calling. Moon moved to Houston and instantly restored pride to the pastel blue. Among his many achievements in the American game, he joined the Dans - Marino and Fouts - as the only quarterbacks to post back-to-back 4,000-yard seasons. And if you're still unconvinced that Moon deserves to be in this conversation, just remember that he is the only player ever to be inducted into both the CFL and NFL Halls of Fame. That's at least astounding, if not cool. 

While so many football writers and commentators fawn over the feats of Rodgers and Brees, Moon cooly, calmly and without event, threw 70,613 yards in the CFL and NFL combined. He was one of the purest, most elegant passers ever, who spiraled the ball as if it was on a spindle. And he did it repeatedly. If that doesn't steal the head cheerleader's attention, I don't know what will.

The 49ers are coming

You have to appreciate the way the Giants linemen clog the middle. Whether it’s three or four with their hands in the soil, they leave the opponent no room for error. Every time Aaron Rodgers handed to a rusher Sunday, for example, behind a Packer line ploughing with all their might, the G-Men were equal to the task. They hit each man with ferocity, stunning them in the process and unnerving the quarterback - sometimes merely by their proximity. It's a heck of task withstanding New York’s bravado, and certainly most hardened locals wouldn't have it any other way. As native Billy Joel once sang, "There's a storm front coming." In other words, get outta the way!

This Sunday, the 49ers defense will also be called into duty, to a battle more savage than the last. The NFL's No.1 rushing defense will attempt to slow the newly awoken Giants offense, which is now armed – again - with a formidable running game. But this encounter is as much about matching the Giant defensive output as it is shutting down Eli and Co. And if any unit can rival the G-Men tack for tackle, it's the Niners. One of the game's most prolific passers in Drew Brees quickly discovered that last weekend, as he was hurried like a bassist trying to stay in step with Satchmo's trumpet. The Saints went marching in, but the Niners came marching out.

With Justin Smith ripping through linemen like they’re papier-maché, his perpetual motion impossible to escape, Eli will be on his toes all game. And how about Dashon Goldson and Patrick Willis, lurking about the second level with the type of snarl that makes the timid go to ground? The Niners defense is not only stout, as many writers like to label it, it's relentless, pestering and anxiety-inducing. Why would anyone want to play these guys in a sodden Candlestick with a slippery ball, and before a salivating crowd emotionally charged by the return of meaningful football?

For weeks now we’ve been told how good the Saints and Packers offenses are, and yet we know find ourselves closer to the Super Bowl and not a Saint or a Packer in sight. Instead of offense, we await the meeting of two potent defenses in this NFC Championship, a colossal duel between the Big Blue and Big Red. It'll be a tight contest, I suspect, with each offense nullifying the other in testing conditions. In the end, this will be resolved by the 49ers defense, which is not only physically energized but mentally clear. Jim Harbaugh seems to have mastered this aspect of coaching, and so I fully expect the Niners to be steely and decisive. They'll create panic around Manning who's best chance is to hop away from the rush, sometimes awkwardly so, and look long, in the hope that his talented receivers can outrun the coverage. It'll be easier said than done though, in a setting made for a San Francisco ambush, and yet another turn at the big dance.

This article is also featured on Roto Experts Xtra Point Football.

The Pack and the Beanstalk

Pounding runs from behind the New York Giants line have changed everything.

The G-Men, now playing harder than James Brown at the Apollo, have returned to the run, and in turn, turned back the clock. Yes, one of the NFL's worst rushing offenses in the regular season is again a juggernaut on the ground.

It helps that guards Chris Snee and Kevin Booth can't be stopped in the pursuit of forging lanes. They don't make space, space sees them coming and lays out. Giants have that affect. But more importantly, Brandon Jacobs, as fee-fi-fo-fum as they come, cannot be toppled from his playoff perch, a magic beanstalk that he ascends when New York need him most.

Jacobs busted up the middle of the Falcons defense with the reckless, grunting style we came to know before he slowed last year. Now, inexplicably, as if fueled by the raucous New York crowd, and maybe by his inspiring defensive ends - led by another Fewell, Perry - Jacobs is again a hostile creature.

Jacobs' barge and spin on fourth and inches near the end of the second quarter against Atlanta was just brutal. The line collapsed inside, he stomped outside and then pirouetted, banged his head against a Falcon, and dove back in to pick up the necessary difference. And just like that, the Giants accumulated 75 yards in a single half, almost twice as much as they'd gained through the air. Atlanta looked more distraught than crash test dummies.

So now Green Bay's defense, merely a mid-tier obstacle for rushers, faces a rejuvenated Jacobs, who can terrify the Pack with fewer than the 92 yards he had last week. Certainly the idea of Giant Jacobs is as much a psychological issue as a physical one: Fox's Sunday half time backdrop of him pumping his fists in between Howie Long and Terry Bradshaw was testament to that. The silhouette - the impending doom - should have the Packers quaking.

Look, we all know what the Packers do on offense. We've heard more about Aaron Rodgers prowess than Kim Kardashian's marital problems, yet another record he'll lock up in 2011-12. But we also know Rodgers' club allows the opposition to score points. Against the Saints in week 1 they allowed 34; the lowly Vikings posted 27 on them; the dysfunctional Bucs scored 26 in week 11; an inept Bears offense generated 21 points against this team for crying out loud.

I'm not talking about the Giants competing in a shootout because we know "Roy" Rodgers wins shootouts. No, I'm talking about the possibility of a take-no-prisoners offensive beat down in which Jacobs churns the cheeseheads into butter. Just like in the frigid '62 Championship game between these great clubs, the Giants will be hardened for a cold contest, and perhaps motivated to avenge that tough loss, and everyone to Green Bay since.

This article first appeared as The Pack and the Beanstalk on Technorati.