Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Devon Durrant  |  Pat Beach  |  Larry Phelps  |  God  |  Roy Hobbson
The Implosion Edition
The Implosion Edition
(1)  Is there anything else that could have happened during The Implosion to make you feel worse than you already do?

PAT — I'm not sure.  Maybe if my wife stabbed me in the knee at the exact moment Vanderjagt attempted the field goal...that might make me feel worse.  

LARRY — No, not really.  Just to give you an idea of my present physical and emotional state right now...do you remember the Norwalk Virus that hit the cruise ships several years ago?  Well, I got that, and basically what happens is you vomit and diarrhea and contemplate suicide for 56 straight hours.  I feel worse right now.

GOD — Maybe if the Baptists reverted to Baal worshiping.

ROY — I don't know.  Had my wife not laid that tarp at my feet, I would've been spitting up blood all over the carpet throughout the game.  I'd feel pretty bad about that, I guess..

DEVON — I could have watched it with my in-laws, I guess.

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(2)  If you had to equate The Implosion to a night out
in Broad Ripple, then it would be one of those nights where...

LARRY — ...you're on fire with the ladies at Mineshaft, CT Peppers, and Average Joe's, only to fall flat on your face with the talent at the Red Room.

GOD — ...you get kicked in the nads by a girl with whom you thought you had a chance.

DEVON — ...a visit to Bleeker Street is involved.

ROY — ...you (1) show up not ready to drink; (2) get really blitzed early; and, (3) end up taking a dump in your pants on the Rock Lobster dancefloor and geting punched in your mouth by a bouncer and ultimately have to walk home because no cab would pick me up
because of my soiled clothing (aka, "the night I swore off Broad Ripple for life"). 

PAT — ... you finally left a bar with a girl who will still look good in the morning only to
have her go home with the Assistant Night Manager of La Bamba. 

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(3)  Were there any silver linings to The Implosion?

ROY — We got to see Vanderjagt cry.  And even though it wasn't due to a baseball bat across his temple like every normal, heterosexual, male Indianapolis resident has always hoped for...we still saw him cry.  And you know what?  There's some good in that.

PAT — Oh, that crap-fest produced a veritable blanket of silver linings: (1) we will never again see see Vanderjagt in a Colts uniform executing the hand-jive after an extra point; (2) we now have the ever-crucial 28th pick in the NFL draft; and (3) I now have this awesome thing called a "drinking problem."

DEVON — The best tackle of the game was made by a Terry-Hoeppner-coached player.

GOD — Absolutely.  Everyone who thought I hated the Colts now knows better.  Clearly,
I did everything in My power to help them win.  So now you can all go back to church.
(Giggling.)  Seriously though, what's important is that you know that I don't hate Indy.

LARRY — I don't have to see the "Peyton Face" for another 8 months.  (Note to our starting QB: your facial expressions and body language do not inspire anyone—let
alone egomaniacal professional athletes—to achieve greatness.)

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(4)  Did the Colts appear to have a gameplan?  If so, who do you suppose devised it?

PAT — The gameplan was there.  The problem was that Dungy handed the reins over to Li'l Ronnie and the Pacers' "Sign Guy."  ("All we need is a wacky pink flamingo, some fuzzy dice, and #87—my homie Reggie Wayne.") 

DEVON — Clearly they did.  Donald Rumsfeld's fingerprints were all over that puppy.

ROY — In a nod to MLK Day, the Colts organization let the black guy who coached the 1952 South Bend Central Bears devise the gameplan.  Apparently, the Colts realized too late that this was the same guy who didn't run a double-team at Jimmy Chitwood in the closing seconds of that year's championship game (thus making him the stupidest coach—in any sport—ever.)  Live and learn, Colts.  Live and learn.    

LARRY — No real gameplan as far as I could tell.  Here's a thought, though: when the defense blitzes every down, you might want to do away with the 5 and 7-step drops.  For the love of God, I'm still waiting for a slant route or a draw play or a screen pass.  Can someone please towel off Tom Moore...he's still got some formaldehyde on him.

GOD — I don't have to "suppose," you heathen.  I know who devised it: it was Claude,
the guy who drives the Harley out of the Colts' tunnel.  He won the opportunity in a raffle. 

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(5)  What is the basketball-coaching-equivalent of letting the opposing team shut down your offense via 38 consecutive blitzes?

ROY — There is no such  "equivolent."  None.  I mean, not outside of the Washington Generals' playbook.

DEVON — Starting Marshall Strickland at point guard for three seasons.

LARRY — Going to the "four corners" attack when you're down 20.

GOD — Sitting LeBron James and Amare Stoudamire for the duration of the Olympics.   Hey, Larry Brown....you'd better be thankful you're Jewish, you stubborn son of bitch.  You'd pay in the afterlife.  You'd pay somethin' fierce. 

PAT — Telling Ron Artest that he could no longer watch "Sponge Bob" while dressed as
an Evil Wizard as part of his pre-game routine.  Only bad things are going to happen. 

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(6)  Waiting for Mike Vanderjagt to line up his potential game-tying kick was like waiting for... 

DEVON — ...Dr. Thickfinger preparing to give me a colonoscopy.

ROY — ...Teen Wolf Two to be released.  You knew it was coming, you knew it was going to be punch-to-the-stomach-terrible, and you knew that you were never going to
be the same as a result.   Never.  

PAT — ...a blue dot on a pregnancy test after a one-night stand.

LARRY — ...capital punishment to be administered.  You know what the end result's going to be, just get it the hell over with already.

GOD — ...my man Job to crack under the pressure.  Pansy.

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(7)  How do you think Bob Sanders and Troy Polamolu greeted each other after the game?

DEVON — Clutched each others forearm and said "we shall one day pillage together, my
fair Norseman."

LARRY — A lot like how Louis Winthorp III and Billy Ray Valentine greeted each other at the end of Trading Places.  ("Looking good, Troy."  "Feeling good, Bob.")

PAT — Without exchanging words, they each lined up at opposing goal lines in the darkened Dome and sprinted full speed at each other for a "greeting" at the 50 yard-line.  That is the custom of their people. 

ROY — Like when Kurt Russell first met one of the other military assassin-ninja-cyborgs in Escape from LA.  In other words, very cautiously.  And with very few words.   

GOD — I actually saw it.  They both kind of raised up on their hind legs and growled at eachother for a few minutes.  Then they both urinated in a semi-circle pattern.  And finally, with neither having backed down, they gently rubbed their noses together and each went their separate ways. 

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(8)  What would be your advice to Colts fans on how to move on from The Implosion? 
 
LARRY — This may sound a bit jaded, but don't ever believe Indy sports teams are going to win anything.  It's like with the Patriots, I never thought they would lose a playoff game with Brady until they actually did. Same rule applies here.

PAT — I've been sitting against the door in my darkened house with a shotgun, a case
of Jim Beam and the Li'l Ronnie CD on repeat.  It appears to be working just fine. 
Sixteen-and-0 ... Super Bowl bound ... say it again 'cause we like the sound ....

GOD — Watch the third season of "7th Heaven" on DVD.  You'll then know true agony,
but you know...but "true agony" with a little Jessica Beil thrown in there. 

ROY — (1) Get a case of beer; (2) Get a beer bong; (3) Go down to your basement;
(4) continuously slam your head against the brick wall until you lose conciousness; and, (5) repeat step 4 until you've forgotten who you are.  Eventually, you'll find yourself in a strange basement blessed with a case of beer and a beer bong.  Problem solved.

DEVON — Go see Brokeback Mountain to see what it's truly like to get  (insert crude homophobic comment here).