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sports nut: The stadium scene.

NFL ArmageddonA Colts fan and a Pats fan dissect every angle of Sunday's big game.

By Eric Gillin and Brendan I. Koerner
Posted Friday, Nov. 2, 2007, at 11:57 AM ET

(Continued from page 1)

Smash-cut to right now. We're the bad guys, and you're the good guys with an edge, the maniacs who could snap and bounce a football into a helmet at a second's notice. That's the story line. But there's a small problem here. The Colts aren't ready for this Patriots team. For a very long time, the Patriots have relied on Belichick's magic, using smoke and mirrors to keep games close. Now, it's amazing to think back on a time when the Pats had to use Troy Brown—a man whom I respect, admire, and cherish—as both a go-to wide reciever and a cornerback. Last year, in the regular season and again in the playoffs, the Pats held it together for as they could. But as my English professor once said, "A chain is only as strong as its weakest link!"

This year, there is no need for magic. This Patriots team has finally achieved its Belichickian destiny. It is a joyless, soulless machine that seeks total domination for the sake of the team, not the individual. I guess that's why Ted Johnson, like hundreds of football players before him, was forced to play with a concussion. You're absolutely right—Belichick comes off like a creep in that story. But as a liberal-minded Northerner, I'm equally creeped out by Tony Dungy's stance against gay marriage. I'm not a fan of the NFL's retirement situation or the fact that football players invariably die young. But playing hurt has always been a big part of football mythology, for better or worse. Ask yourself, Brendan: What would Vince Lombardi do? He'd tell Johnson to rub some dirt on it, take a lap, and get in the game. Does that mean the football gods hate Lombardi, too?

But back to the game. The idea that the Colts are going to try and stop this year's Pats has got me really pumped up. Sadly, I'm not getting any help from the teams this week. None of the players is willing to talk any trash. I just got done watching the Pats and Colts tongue-bathe each other during Wednesday's press conferences, refusing to show any "disrespect" for fear of providing a psychological edge. (If this sports-world conceit were true in real life, we'd be seeing McDonald's employees rising up like the Al-Aqsa Martyrs' Brigades.) Of the Patriots, Bob Sanders fawned, "I would say they're the best team in football right now." Of the Colts, Tom Brady effused, "They're a clutch team. We've got to play a great game."

I DVR-ed the whole SportsCenter segment. I'm planning to use it to help me get to sleep this evening.

Brendan: Considering that Lombardi lived in the pre-CAT scan era, of course he'd have sent Johnson back onto the field. But medical science has advanced since Bart Starr's heyday, and I'd like to think the coaching profession's ethical guidelines have evolved to match. The real killer in that story, though, is the insinuation that Belichick treated Johnson so poorly because of some ill-will stemming from a contract dispute. And, seriously, can you see Dungy doing the same? He often rocks the sweater vest, so you know he's a sensitive guy.

That said, I totally agree about the ridiculousness of the Colts-Pats love fest that's going on right now. I mean, you've even got Belichick—the Dark Lord himself!—singing the Colts' praises and insisting that his team will have to "play an absolutely almost perfect game just to compete against them." Does he really believe that? Yeah, probably to some extent—a smart general respects his adversaries, no matter how bitter the feud. (If they had press conferences during the Roman Empire, I'm sure Flavius Aetius would've felt compelled to say something along the lines of, "We really have to execute our testudo formation flawlessly this weekend to have any chance against Attila.") But Belichick has to like his odds, especially with Marvin Harrison nicked up and our linebacking corps being held together with duct tape.

You alluded to New England's talent edge, which I'll concede—at least on the defensive side of the ball. Even minus Harrison, our receiving corps ain't too shabby—Reggie Wayne has established a true mind meld with Manning, and Dallas Clark is virtually uncoverable coming out of the slot. (Though I constantly fear that he's one bone-shattering hit away from having his arms fall off, a la the Soviet powerlifter from the All Drug Olympics.) And don't underestimate the passing-game contributions of Joseph Addai, who survived an early-season injury scare to become the AFC's latest offensive player of the week.

While your 3-4 defense is pretty outstanding, Manning has made a career out of shredding supposedly impermeable defenses; no one in the NFL is better at finding a seam. And while the Manning of three or four years ago might've been rattled by Belichick's constant shifts and feints, that's no longer the case. As long as our offensive line does a good job of picking up the Pats' blitzes—a big challenge for rookie left tackle Tony Ugoh—Manning should be able to go about his lethal business.

The Pats, meanwhile, will have to find a better way to account for Bob Sanders, who's finally receiving the credit he deserves. (You know you've hit the big time when Peter King lists you as a top-five MVP candidate.) Sanders is to the Colts what Troy Polamalu was to the Steelers during their Super Bowl run—an unpredictable disruptor who makes it risky for teams to stretch the field. I'd love to see Dungy blitz Sanders early and often, giving the Pats' offensive line something to think about other than Dwight Freeney's ultraquick first step. Yeah, that'll expose our secondary, but keep an eye on linebacker Freddy Keiaho—he's adept at dropping back into coverage and punishing receivers running slant routes. (Let that be a warning to you, Wes Welker.)

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Eric Gillin is the editor of Esquire.com and was the editor in chief of the now-defunct BlackTable.com. You can reach him at . Brendan I. Koerner is a contributing editor at Wired and a columnist for Gizmodo. His first book, Now the Hell Will Start, is out now.
Photograph of Peyton Manning and Tom Brady by Travis Lindquist/Getty Images.
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