Solid bread, mushy meat

I recently discovered one of the most wonderful creations in all of human history at our local mega-grocer. They call it The Boss. The Boss is a sandwich bigger than a snapping turtle or a small shrub (and it tastes better, too!). I picked one up before the game last weekend. I didn’t have time to make my famous chicken wings and I wanted to have something to snack on while our defense devoured Jon Kitna’s errant heaves of desperation.
The best part about The Boss (other than its glorious girth) is the bread. Nothing special, just freshly-baked French bread with a hard crust and gooey insides. Sometimes I’ll just grab me a loaf of fresh bread and some cheese and a knife and go to town.
The first half of the Packers – Lions game went so well I was able to relax and enjoy my sandwich with zero nervous-ness. Sublime, I thought, watching Aaron Rodgers move the ball at will. I always knew he was an ultra-accurate passer, a quarterback with extra zip on the spiral, but I guess I didn’t realize how wonderfully mobile he is. I guess after watching a fellow old-timer shuffle around back there for the last decade I forgot what it was like to cheer for a speedy passer. It sure adds a dimension to the offense, I’ll give ‘em that.
And we must have some of the slipperiest receivers in the league, dear readers. Driver is Slippery Rex, but Jennings ain’t far behind. Then you throw in James Jones and Ruvell Martin and Young Jordy and we’ve got a really outstanding unit. One of the best in the league. And let me just say this: You can’t cover Donald Driver with a line-backer. Seriously.
The defense tallied four sacks on Kitna and played well for almost the entire game, but something happened in the middle part there that caused me to start leaning forward on the edge of my rocking chair.
The Boss is constructed on great bread, but I must admit, but the middle is a combination of mushy meat and vegetables. It’s nothing special, aside from the impressive size of the various ingredients. Mooney just glares at me every time I bring one of these big rigs into the kitchen. She says to me, “That’s disssss-gusting!” I see where she’s coming from. The Packers game got a little nasty there in the middle, too.
How on earth did we blow that lead to the lowly Lions, I will never understand. It’s one of the great mysteries of life, I suppose. Poor tackling was a main component. Probably over-confidence and general apathy were another.
The defense gave up the points, sure, but the offense was just pathetic: Three three-and-outs in the second half. Continued offensive line penalties. Unacceptable drops (perhaps the slippery-ness got on their hands as well). My blood was getting angry. What is this? I thought. Bologna or a soggy tomato? But just when I started to worry I hit that tasty bread on the other side and things worked out fine. Jennings’ thunder-bolt on that slant pass set me at ease once again.
After we re-took the lead and kicked-off, I said to my buddies, “Time for a classic Kitna interception.” They agreed, and sure enough, the very next pass went to the resilient Charles Woodsen. By the time the game ended, Kitna and his way-too-big chin-strap had thrown as many touch-downs to our defense as he did to Mega-Tron.
So it was a solid game with a sloppy middle. My belly wasn’t about to argue with a winner. So here’s to the lead in the NFC North and sandwiches bigger than a bob-cat! Huzzah, dear readers, Huzzah!