I know it's a typhoon. I don't know how I could of screwed that up. Oh well, science is a mystery to man, isn't it Frylock? But, seriously, 'tsunami' is a pretty kick-ass name for a natural phenomona, so cut me a break here.
So the Chargers tried to dole out heart attacks all around on Sunday. That was special. The fourth quarter of that game was like eating 4 pounds of mashed potatoes with butter and gravy followed by a punch in the heart from Mike Tyson (before he squandered his millions and developed a drug problem). At least that's what I deduced from the expressions of my fellow Charger 'faithful.' Personally, I was never worried. And since I'm already lying through my teeth, it may be time to come clean in regards to some of my other lapses in fan judgment.
Bless me Father, for I have sinned:
I gave up on my faith that Drew Brees would ever be a successful NFL quarterback.
I felt that giving up David Boston was a foolish manuever that would cripple our already flagging offense to the point of no return.
I had the Bolts pegged for 3 wins, tops. Tops!
I was sure our defense would struggle with the 3-4 and rank somewhere around dead last in the league.
I would not have been surprised to find out that A.J. Smith left every personnel decision up to a magic 8-ball.
I thought Marcellus Wiley was good.
God, it feels good to get that stuff off of my chest.
So, a win is a win and all. And good teams get lucky from time to time. To time. To time. But, damn it, if we don't start beating up on teams again pretty soon, all my posts are going to be this bad. More later, I'm still pretty numb.