My dream NFL team — american_football_team 🇺🇸

Matchday 1 — vs Kansas City Burnt-Ends

31-46 (L)

BLOWN UP IN THE BACKFIELD! Noah shoots the A-gap and drops him four yards behind the line of scrimmage! This one is on the headsets, not the player. Noah was sent out for a package that got waved off two seconds too late. Back shoulder fade at the pylon, and Kansas City Burnt-Ends comes down with it over a defender who had inside leverage and nothing behind him. Perfectly placed, and this one is on us.

HE BURIED HIM! Colonel Sanders drove him fifteen yards downfield and finished him flat on his back inside the numbers, and Theodore Roosevelt is STILL running! Eighteen inches of daylight is nothing new to a explorer. He squeezes into tighter spots than that before his first coffee. This is what happens when you play that soft on third and three. George Washington takes the free completion, Guy Fieri makes the first man miss, and the alley is empty. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother works so fast that the crowd is still chanting about the touchdown when the football is already through.

Guy Fieri hurdles a downed defender on the way in, and once he is over the line he turns around and hurdles Theodore Roosevelt for good measure. Theodore Roosevelt was not warned. He was crouching to tie a shoe. This is on every highlight package in the country and it is not even the touchdown that is the story.

Screen pass, one missed tackle at the thirty, and Kansas City Burnt-Ends is gone. That is a fundamentals problem, and the fundamentals are ours to fix.

Five yards marched off. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother was the twelfth man, and a third and 6 just turned into third and 1 for them. Gain of nothing. Theodore Roosevelt with the stop, and they are staring at third and long all over again.

HE GOT A PIECE OF IT! Joe Thuney arrives with the football, and their receiver is still asking for a flag that is never coming! Five yards for one extra body. The explorer is used to being the man they call when they need one more pair of hands, and tonight that was the whole problem. And the flag gets picked up. Kansas City Burnt-Ends keeps the touchdown, our sideline is screaming at the officials, and the scoreboard does not care one bit.

Halftime. Abraham Lincoln is flat on the locker room floor with both legs up the wall. Rumor has it Abraham Lincoln memorized the fight song as a rookie and now sings it in the shower. Loudly. And now, our halftime TV game show Hollywood Squares Office Pool! To win a laminated office pool grid from a company that no longer exists, text BLITZ to 555-0155 and answer this question: 'Who fills out the office pool square that nobody claims?' Third-quarter kickoff coming up. This is the stretch where games get decided.

Two hours of heavy physical labor, no applause, no lunch break -- the cook is having the most familiar afternoon of his entire life. Zero margin, no second try, and a white line that does not negotiate. The cook has better footwork than most people manage getting out of a packed elevator. The drive dies at the 12, but Colonel Sanders makes sure it was not a wasted trip down the field.

A conga line forms out of nowhere: Colonel Sanders at the front, Doctor Mike on his hips, and by the end of the end zone there are nine men in it including a trainer who should absolutely know better. It snakes past the goalpost and back. The head coach is on the sideline with both hands over his face, laughing.

Ugly scene. Nikocado Avocado is out of the game, the network has stopped showing replays, and the head coach is walking his own players back one at a time. Kansas City Burnt-Ends goes deep on third and long and our safety arrives about a half second late. Fifty-two yards, and you can hear the concourse from here.

The pressure was coming off the boundary. George Washington saw it, flipped the protection, and suddenly the free rusher had a body standing in his way. Get in, take the yards, get out. A farmer who has spent a whole career watching a clock over his shoulder is not about to let one beat him tonight. Nine route from the boundary against off coverage. Shawn Bradley eats the cushion, stacks the corner, and the football drops over his outside shoulder. Fifty-three yards, touchdown. Ask any youtuber about the one small thing he got wrong in front of everybody. He still hears about it. This one loops until Thursday.

IT IS A HEADCOUNT! Somebody on this sideline needs a clicker, because the official counted twice before he threw it at Noah! Play action freezes our linebackers, the tight end slips out behind them, and Kansas City Burnt-Ends scores with nobody in the picture. That is a bust, plain and simple.

Some quarterbacks force it into a crowd. George Washington just picks up the coupon the defense left on the table. The rush comes free, Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother floats it over the top, and here comes the CONVOY in front of Theodore Roosevelt! Precision is precision in any trade. The explorer hit his landmark on the exact step and the football was already waiting for him when he got there. George Washington shows the flat route, resets his feet, and delivers to Theodore Roosevelt on the back line. The whole thing takes 2.4 seconds.

The farmer clocked in, walked straight through the left tackle, and clocked the opposing quarterback out. Ten yards of paid overtime. Pure technique breakdown: Noah never got his head around, and in this league that is a guaranteed thirty-yard donation. Six for Kansas City Burnt-Ends. Nobody carried the crosser, and that was a walk-in from twelve yards out.

You do not usually hire a farmer for demolition, but that run play was condemned on contact four yards deep. Second and long just got worse. Noah with the sack, seven yards back, and the chains are a memory. A false start backs them up five yards and it does not matter one bit. Good from forty-two, and Kansas City Burnt-Ends stretches the lead.

Eighty yards to cover and the farmer sets off down the field the way he starts any long job: one end to the other, and nobody goes home until it is done. The throw was a rounding error. Everything after it belonged to George Washington, who turned a checkdown into a highlight tape. George Washington taps the point after through and this one is academic. Seven on the board.

George Washington does a full slow-motion replay of his own run, backward, from the end zone toward the line of scrimmage, exaggerating every cut. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother runs alongside as the defender he beat, falling over in slow motion at the exact same spot. Frame for frame accurate. The building is in ruins.

George Washington sits in front of his locker with one cleat off. Twenty minutes later, still one cleat off. And here is the answer to our game Hollywood Squares Office Pool! Marvin Tuttlebee of Bent Antenna, Wisconsin, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'Who fills out the office pool square that nobody claims?' The answer was of course a man in accounting named Dale, and Dale wins every year. Marvin takes home a laminated office pool grid from a company that no longer exists! The replay monitor froze in the second quarter and stayed frozen. I have been describing one still image with tremendous confidence. We're calling it. Up next: 'Swamp People: The Puddle at the End of My Driveway.'

Matchday 2 — vs Miami Champagne-Corks

32-29 (W)

Second and 14. Joe Thuney with the tackle for loss, and that play call goes straight in the garbage. Third and 8, empty backfield, and Joe Thuney takes him down before the route concept ever develops. Punt team. Fifty-one yards and it is good with room to spare. Miami Champagne-Corks takes the lead back, and their kicker just woke that whole sideline up.

Two men, one football, one very small window. The politician makes that exchange the way you hand somebody a full mug on a moving train. One wobble and it is a disaster, and there was no wobble. You cannot defend this. Guy Fieri snaps it on a quick count, follows the center, and eleven men push the pile forward together. He STUCK it in there! Not one inch of daylight anywhere on that line and Guy Fieri finds a way through it anyway! Off the iron! Guy Fieri rings the upright, the football caroms back toward the hash, and the whistle kills it right there. No good.

Guy Fieri jogs to the sideline, taps the chain crew on the shoulder, and asks for a measurement on a ball that crossed the goal line by nine yards. Three men in orange vests look at each other, and then, because nobody tells them not to, they do it -- chain out, stake down, the entire ceremony. The down judge points one arm downfield: first down, and also a touchdown. Guy Fieri accepts the ruling with a small nod and jogs off like a man who simply needed to be sure.

A family physician lives and dies by timing, and he was a tenth of a second early on that one. Pass knocked down, drive stalled. Noah folded that pocket like a lawn chair, and the opposing quarterback never saw the ceiling coming down. Clean snap, laces out, and the kick is pure. Miami Champagne-Corks is on the board, and there is nothing to complain about there -- that was textbook.

The exchange from Shawn Bradley to Guy Fieri happens at full speed with nobody breaking stride. That is timing you cannot install in a walkthrough. Give a cook one clean lane and a big man clearing the way, and suddenly he looks like he has been doing this instead of his actual job. Short yardage is manual labor and nothing else, and this is a cook who has done harder work than that for considerably less money. Through the uprights! Doctor Mike adds the point after and the lead grows by one.

The team has one final bit saved for exactly this: Guy Fieri and Shawn Bradley shake hands in absurd slow motion, hold it, then the entire offense collapses to the turf around them in a choreographed heap. Eleven men down, two standing. The referee holds the ball and waits for the dead to rise. They take their time about it, and the stadium does not stop screaming once.

He is UNBLOCKABLE right now! Joe Thuney is in the backfield again and their offensive coordinator just slammed the call sheet down! Our rush gets a hand up and misses by six inches. It is good anyway. Three for Miami Champagne-Corks, and the block unit walks off shaking their heads.

The break. Guy Fieri stretches that groin out along the wall while the coordinator talks. Rumor has it Guy Fieri keeps the ticket stub from the first game he ever attended framed above the door at home. And now, our halftime TV game show The Pledge Drive Power Half Hour! To win a tote bag, and the quiet dignity of owning a tote bag, text BLITZ to 555-2565 and answer this question: 'How much do you have to pledge before they read your name on the air?' Both teams are back out of the tunnel. Second half, here we go.

They wanted the seam. Nikocado Avocado took the seam, took the football, and took eleven yards back the other way before the whistle. Somebody holds a door open for the youtuber and he walks through it without slowing down and without saying thank you. Eight yards. Watch the plant foot -- Nikocado Avocado puts it right beside the ball, no lean, no hook. Inside 40 that is a rehearsed motion, not a kick.

Nikocado Avocado climbs the padding at the base of the goalpost and hangs there like a man escaping a flood. The flag is out before his second hand lands, and security arrives right behind it. George Washington is at the bottom pushing him higher, which is not helping anybody. Two officials and a very tired stadium employee talk him down.

Nowhere to go. Theodore Roosevelt plugs the hole and that running back is swallowed up for no gain. It is up, and it is through. Three more for Miami Champagne-Corks, and a two-possession game feels a whole lot different than a one-possession game.

That is a coverage disguise and a half. Guy Fieri shows two-high, spins down into the flat, and the opposing quarterback throws it right to him. Power concept, backside guard pulling, play side down blocks all working in unison. Guy Fieri is the last piece of it and he arrives with his hat on the correct shoulder. FIFTY-FOUR YARDS AND HE HAS THE LEG! Theodore Roosevelt drills it and this place comes UNGLUED!

We held them out of the end zone and it still costs us. Three for Miami Champagne-Corks, because the scoreboard does not hand out credit for good defense.

Precision to the inch, twice in a row, with a full stadium screaming at him. Whoever employs that cook has no idea what they have got. The cook spends all week doing the part of the job nobody ever puts on a poster. Six points says they remember his name tonight. NO GOOD?! THE EXTRA POINT?! Shawn Bradley pushes it and this stadium has no idea what it just watched.

Guy Fieri tucks the ball under his jersey, cradles the bump, and rocks it gently while walking the length of the end zone. George Washington follows with a hand on his back like a very concerned husband. The Miami Champagne-Corks sideline is not amused. The referee already has the flag out of his belt.

Fourth and 4, they go to their number one, and Noah says absolutely not. Ball on the ground, ball back to us. Slow it down: the ball arrives, the receiver is still airborne, and Shawn Bradley drops his head into the strike. That is the exact hit the league legislated out.

Grabbing on late and hoping for mercy -- the cook has talked his way out of worse, but never out of a spot foul. The chains kept moving and nothing we tried slowed it down. Fourteen plays, seven minutes off the clock, and Miami Champagne-Corks finishes the drive with six.

Straight through the hands of the farmer. Nothing he picks up on a job site has ever been shaped like that, and it certainly showed. None of that was improvised. Guy Fieri had the green light from the moment they broke the huddle and pulled the trigger on the exact look he wanted. That ball dropped in like a key sliding into a lock, and Abraham Lincoln was standing in the end zone before this crowd got its hands up. The loneliest job in football is the one where making it earns you nothing, and Colonel Sanders just made it again.

Fingertips like that do not come from football practice. The cook does precision work all week and it showed up at the catch point. Twelve men on the field, and the explorer was the spare one. Nobody on that sideline thought to tell him he was surplus. Field position, then penalties, then the score. Miami Champagne-Corks has taken this game away from us one small mistake at a time.

Nobody puts the carries of a queen mother on a highlight reel and nobody needs to. He ran ninety seconds off that clock, and ninety seconds was the whole job. Off tackle it is, the tight end seals the edge, and Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother is into the second level untouched!

Guy Fieri and Nikocado Avocado swap helmets. Neither one fits. They wear them anyway. And here is the answer to our game show The Pledge Drive Power Half Hour! Lurlene Chastain of Quiet Dell Station, West Virginia, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'How much do you have to pledge before they read your name on the air?' The answer was of course sixty dollars, or forty and a very sad story. Lurlene therefore wins a tote bag, and the quiet dignity of owning a tote bag! The press box elevator has been broken since August. Nine flights, every week, all season. My calves say hello. That's everything. Coming up: 'Top Gear: Merging Onto the Highway at Rush Hour.' Nobody makes it.

Matchday 3 — vs Cleveland Blank-Helmets

22-14 (W)

Two-minute drill, and George Washington is operating like the game clock is merely a suggestion. It is all in the shoulders. George Washington sells the outside with his upper body and goes inside with his feet, and the defender bought every bit of it.

Three completions, two of them out of bounds, one timeout still in hand. George Washington has this exactly where the staff drew it up on Wednesday.

Everybody else in the building is panicking. The farmer checks the clock, checks the sideline, and finishes the job on schedule. Second and 7, George Washington catches the snap in the gun and fires the quick game out to Guy Fieri for a gain of six. Chains keep crawling.

Whatever a explorer does all week apparently involves separating people from things they were holding. Sack, strip, ours. This crowd wanted the bomb. Theodore Roosevelt handed them a first down instead, and the first down is the thing that actually wins games. Third and one and they keep it on the ground. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother slides off the double team and stretches the football over the goal line. Joe Thuney converts. Seven points on the drive.

Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother turns to the corner section, lifts both arms slowly, and starts a wave. It clears the end zone, climbs the upper deck, comes all the way around the far side and finds him again, and he sends it straight back out. Three full laps. The extra point unit is standing on the field and the officials are waiting and nobody in this building is willing to be the one who lets it die.

Terrific job by Guy Fieri to field that cleanly with a gunner in his facemask, then set up his blocks back toward the field side. THEY OWN THE LINE OF SCRIMMAGE! Guy Fieri is driving grown men three yards downfield on every single snap!

Off the field. Colonel Sanders is already flipping through the sideline photos of that last drive. Forty people in matching vests, one stage, zero margin. The grounds crew are the real athletes tonight. And now, our halftime TV game show Blockbusters in the Backfield! To win a mint condition fullback trading card from the wrong sport, text BLITZ to 555-0231 and answer this question: 'How many blockers does a fullback need in order to feel appreciated?' They are back out. The first-half script goes in the trash, here comes the new one.

A stop was one snap away, and now Doctor Mike has handed the other sideline field position it did nothing to earn. Second time in three drives. Cleveland Blank-Helmets punches it in from the two and our front seven is standing there with hands on knees.

PATIENCE from George Washington, one beat longer, then the release, and Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother is running behind a wall of humanity all the way out to the 50! Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother jukes at the twenty-five, picks up eleven more, brought down at the fourteen. 38 yards. No block, no bad hold, no wind. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother simply missed it and the scoreboard does not move.

Nobody on that offensive line got the memo they had a cook booked for the afternoon. Two seconds of work, one flattened pocket. Alone in space with the ball carrier, and the cook does not miss. Whatever he does for a living clearly does not tolerate missing.

The explorer clocked in, walked straight through the left tackle, and clocked the opposing quarterback out. Ten yards of paid overtime. Theodore Roosevelt lost the deep third, panicked at the catch point and got his hand in early. That is a spot foul every single week. Ohhh, that one hurts. Cleveland Blank-Helmets runs the same counter they have run all afternoon, the backside end crashes again, and it is a touchdown.

THAT IS A WALL! Guy Fieri and the front seven meet them square at the point of attack, and there is no crease to be found! He never stops working -- Doctor Mike has his arm around the pocket before his shoulder pad even lands. That is a hunter's instinct. He let it FLY and it is still climbing -- George Washington launches, Doctor Mike runs under it at the five, and that is fifty-eight yards of touchdown! The coach keeps the offense out there and it pays -- George Washington takes the shotgun snap and hits Guy Fieri on a slant into the end zone. TWO POINTS!

Doctor Mike drops flat on his back in the end zone and makes a snow angel in turf that has never seen snow. Nikocado Avocado lies down beside him and does the same. Two men making angels in green rubber pellets while a defensive coordinator on the other sideline throws his headset into the ground.

The youtuber will not appear anywhere on the stat sheet, but he just removed a 320-pound obstruction from the work area and nobody even thanked him. First and 10, Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother hits the slant for eight. Simple, clean, right on schedule. BOOM, Guy Fieri bounces off the first tackler at the twenty-two, spins away from the second, and the last man with an angle is already out of the picture! The 33-yard extra point stopped being free a long time ago, but Shawn Bradley still treats it like it is. Right down the pipe.

Guy Fieri turns to the corner section, lifts both arms slowly, and starts a wave. It clears the end zone, climbs the upper deck, comes all the way around the far side and finds him again, and he sends it straight back out. Three full laps. The extra point unit is standing on the field and the officials are waiting and nobody in this building is willing to be the one who lets it die.

Two yards, then two more. The queen mother runs out a clock the way he runs out the last hour of a shift: steadily, and without checking his phone. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother follows that block the way a car follows a snowplow. Somebody else clears it, he just keeps his foot down.

George Washington and Colonel Sanders dump the Gatorade cooler over the head coach. Theodore Roosevelt misses completely and soaks a cameraman. And here is the answer to our game Blockbusters in the Backfield! Dorsey Kittleson of Drizzle Gap, Washington, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many blockers does a fullback need in order to feel appreciated?' The answer was of course none, and that is the entire tragedy of the position. Dorsey takes home a mint condition fullback trading card from the wrong sport! Between quarters I attempted a wall sit behind the monitors. My producer now believes I am unwell. That's the game and that's our night. Up next: 'Intervention: My Friend Who Will Not Stop Talking About His Fantasy Team.'

Matchday 4 — vs New Orleans Bag-Heads

34-27 (W)

Third and fourteen killed the drive, and the kicker finishes what the offense could not. New Orleans Bag-Heads adds three and this becomes a chess match.

There must be a training manual for being a queen mother, and page one apparently says jump the out route right at the sticks. OUT AND OUT OF BOUNDS! Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother on the money to Guy Fieri and this drive still has all the time it needs! HE IS IN! Guy Fieri takes the handoff, finds the crease in the B-gap and finishes it standing straight up! Big touchdown, big celebration, and then the youtuber quietly comes on to file the paperwork. Point is good.

Guy Fieri mimes lifting an enormous, impossibly heavy trophy off the turf -- knees bent, back straight, veins popping. It takes him four seconds to get it overhead. Noah spots him like a training partner. They parade it around the end zone and hand it, ceremonially, to the referee, who does not accept it.

The crowd noise is doing its job. Doctor Mike never heard the cadence, so he guessed, and he guessed early. Doctor Mike does not run away from tacklers. He runs straight through the neighborhood they happen to be standing in. Doctor Mike used that back pylon like a fence post -- plant, turn, and the football arrived like it had an appointment. Hold is upright, the spot never moves an inch, and Abraham Lincoln hits it flush. Nothing about that operation was rushed.

Four-man rush, nobody blitzed. Theodore Roosevelt wins a one-on-one in under two and a half seconds, and that is how you wreck a game plan. In his day job the explorer deals with customers. Today he has exactly one, and that customer is extremely unsatisfied. That is the third field goal of the day for New Orleans Bag-Heads. All those red zone stops, and we are still staring at nine points from a kicker.

The youtuber did not just finish the job, he took the football home with him. In most trades they call that a bonus. Look the safety off, deliver on time, walk back to the huddle. A youtuber handles the intermediate zones like a shift he has worked a thousand times. OVER THE TOP! Guy Fieri goes airborne from the one and comes down with the nose of the football across the plane -- touchdown! Shawn Bradley jogs on, kicks it through, jogs off. If you blinked you missed the whole thing, and that is exactly the idea.

Guy Fieri climbs the padding at the base of the goalpost and hangs there like a man escaping a flood. The flag is out before his second hand lands, and security arrives right behind it. Joe Thuney is at the bottom pushing him higher, which is not helping anybody. Two officials and a very tired stadium employee talk him down.

Off the field. Noah is already flipping through the sideline photos of that last drive. Backstage: the artist's rider asks for a space heater and eleven bananas. Eleven. Not ten, not twelve. And now, our halftime TV game show Double Dare Blitz! To win a defensive playbook with only one page and that page says GO, text BLITZ to 555-0049 and answer this question: 'How many defenders can blitz before it legally becomes a parade?' The kicker sets up alone on his 35 while the coverage unit waits down on the far 40. The stadium counts him down.

The farmer clocked in, walked straight through the left tackle, and clocked the opposing quarterback out. Ten yards of paid overtime. Fifteen honest minutes of coverage undone by one snap. The farmer knows all about work that only gets noticed the day it goes wrong. And the flag gets picked up. New Orleans Bag-Heads keeps the touchdown, our sideline is screaming at the officials, and the scoreboard does not care one bit.

The farmer is not out here for a highlight. He is here to hit the number, five yards at a time, and hand in a first down at the end of it. Off tackle to the right, Shawn Bradley for eight. First down at the forty-one. The politician shows up, does the whole job in eleven seconds, and gets back on the bus. Three points, no overtime.

Dunking the football over the crossbar has been illegal for a decade and Shawn Bradley does it anyway, cleanly, two-handed, hanging for a beat. The flag comes out. The crowd does not care about the flag. Neither, from the look of him, does the head coach, who is very deliberately looking somewhere else.

LAID OUT! Joe Thuney squares him up in space and puts him on the ground at the 22 -- no yards after, no daylight!

BOTH BENCHES ARE EMPTY! Bodies pouring onto the field around midfield, and Doctor Mike is dead center in the pile. New Orleans Bag-Heads goes deep on third and long and our safety arrives about a half second late. Fifty-two yards, and you can hear the concourse from here.

One tick left on the play clock. George Washington calls it, the officials grant it, and the offense finally gets to breathe. Double team up to the linebacker, George Washington climbs to the second level, and the running back has not been touched behind the line all half. Fourth and 6 at the 15, field goal unit on, George Washington converts from 33. Three points.

A conga line forms out of nowhere: George Washington at the front, Theodore Roosevelt on his hips, and by the end of the end zone there are nine men in it including a trainer who should absolutely know better. It snakes past the goalpost and back. The head coach is on the sideline with both hands over his face, laughing.

Loss of six and a change of possession. Nikocado Avocado with the strip-sack, and our offense takes over just past midfield. Boring? Absolutely. But a youtuber who has never gambled a single thing at work was not about to start by throwing into double coverage in front of a full house. You can teach footwork and you can teach pad level, but you cannot teach a explorer who runs like the goal line owes him money. Through the uprights! George Washington adds the point after and the lead grows by one.

The cook showed up in the backfield before the running back did. In his line of work they call that beating the traffic. Run the tape back on the substitution: Colonel Sanders steps in, the call changes, and nobody waves him back. That is the whole penalty in one clip. Back shoulder fade at the pylon, and New Orleans Bag-Heads comes down with it over a defender who had inside leverage and nothing behind him. Perfectly placed, and this one is on us.

Hand it to Theodore Roosevelt, let him take what is there, huddle slow, snap it at two. Repeat until the horn. That is the entire playbook at the moment. POUNDED it in there! Theodore Roosevelt through the B-gap with the pads low, and the chains are moving again. The ugly part of the work is the part the explorer happens to be best at, and there is nothing in this sport uglier than three yards at the goal line.

Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother and Joe Thuney start a chant. Six people join. By the time they reach the tunnel it is the whole stadium. And here is the answer to our game Double Dare Blitz! Dixie Ann Hollowell of Blitz Creek, Louisiana, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many defenders can blitz before it legally becomes a parade?' The answer was of course seven, and at eight you are required to notify the city. Dixie Ann takes home a defensive playbook with only one page and that page says GO! During the halftime show I tried to name every instrument in the marching band. I got to nine and quit. Thanks for joining us. Up next: 'Whale Wars: Defending My Leftovers From My Own Family.'

Matchday 5 — vs Minnesota Silver-Horns

37-32 (W)

The hands tell the whole story -- Colonel Sanders chops, rips underneath the outside shoulder, and the pocket collapses from the top down. Press at the line, hip to hip down the numbers -- Colonel Sanders takes the release away and the throw never leaves the quarterback's hand. Splits the uprights. Minnesota Silver-Horns settles for three, and we will take that trade every single time after where that drive started.

The interior of that defensive line is getting worn down, and Theodore Roosevelt is the reason. Every carry has moved the pile the same direction. Twenty-two carries, twenty-two collisions. The explorer is the only man on this field who has to do that kind of work twice, because he clocks in again tomorrow morning. Noah looks at the holder, the holder looks at the grass, and neither of them has one useful thing to offer the other.

Look at the get-off from Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother -- he is two yards upfield before the center's hand leaves the football. You cannot block that. Nobody on that offensive line got the memo they had a queen mother booked for the afternoon. Two seconds of work, one flattened pocket. Right down the middle from thirty-four. Minnesota Silver-Horns caps a twelve-play march with three, and eight minutes came off that clock with it.

Off the left upright -- DOINK -- and it kicks back onto the field. Three points Minnesota Silver-Horns left out there, and our sideline is losing its mind. Handoff to Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother, straight ahead, gain of five. Second and five, clock running. You can teach footwork and you can teach pad level, but you cannot teach a queen mother who runs like the goal line owes him money. The queen mother has never once been thanked for the last step of anything. He puts it through and gets a pat on the helmet from the long snapper.

Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother drops flat on his back in the end zone and makes a snow angel in turf that has never seen snow. Abraham Lincoln lies down beside him and does the same. Two men making angels in green rubber pellets while a defensive coordinator on the other sideline throws his headset into the ground.

Fingertips like that do not come from football practice. The family physician does precision work all week and it showed up at the catch point. A false start backs them up five yards and it does not matter one bit. Good from forty-two, and Minnesota Silver-Horns stretches the lead.

Halftime. Guy Fieri runs a towel over his face and it comes away a completely different color. Intel: Guy Fieri once bet a teammate on hitting the mascot with a football from midfield. Lost. Badly. And now, our halftime TV game show The Ninety Minute Fiance! To win a commemorative plate honoring a couple who did not make it, text BLITZ to 555-2324 and answer this question: 'How long does an engagement last if it begins during a fourth quarter comeback?' Second half underway in a moment. The adjustments are made, now they have to hold up.

Two square feet of legal real estate out there, and Shawn Bradley used every inch of it. Bounce it OUTSIDE! Shawn Bradley sees the pursuit overrun the play, hits the sideline and dives at the pylon for the score! The coach called for two, and the explorer answered it the way he answers a rush order at work: head down, no questions, into the end zone.

Shawn Bradley points at the scoreboard and then stands there, waiting for his own name to come up on it. The operator is half a minute behind and the board is still showing a third down that no longer exists. Seventy thousand people end up staring at a blank scoreboard alongside him, and when the letters finally land the noise is bigger than it was for the touchdown. George Washington has been beside him the entire time, pointing at nothing at all.

Perfect technique from Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother -- he plays the ball, not the man, and there is not a flag anywhere on this field. The explorer clocked in, walked straight through the left tackle, and clocked the opposing quarterback out. Ten yards of paid overtime. Third and fourteen killed the drive, and the kicker finishes what the offense could not. Minnesota Silver-Horns adds three and this becomes a chess match.

The explorer did not just finish the job, he took the football home with him. In most trades they call that a bonus.

The cook shut that gap the way he shuts up shop at the end of a shift: everything locked, nobody getting in. It is up, and it is through. Three more for Minnesota Silver-Horns, and a two-possession game feels a whole lot different than a one-possession game.

Selling something nobody should be buying -- the farmer just closed that edge rusher without breaking a sweat, and it cost the defense five yards. TAKE THE TOP OFF! Noah steps into the throw and hits George Washington in stride at the twenty-five with nothing but painted grass in front of him! Theodore Roosevelt works so fast that the crowd is still chanting about the touchdown when the football is already through.

Beautiful key read. Doctor Mike sees the guard pull, runs the mesh point down, and meets the back before the handoff is even clean. Fifty-one yards and it is good with room to spare. Minnesota Silver-Horns takes the lead back, and their kicker just woke that whole sideline up.

Whatever a queen mother does all week apparently involves separating people from things they were holding. Sack, strip, ours. Nobody is catching him! George Washington authored five yards of that play and Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother wrote the other forty himself. The sideline is coming apart. Noah taps the point after through and this one is academic. Seven on the board.

Up onto the padded barrier in front of the first row, both feet off the turf, and Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother vanishes into a crush of jerseys and spilled beer. Two fans have him by the shoulder pads and are not letting go. He drops back onto the grass with somebody's foam finger and no idea whose it is. The Minnesota Silver-Horns sideline watches this with the expression of men attending a funeral.

Five yards for one extra body. The cook is used to being the man they call when they need one more pair of hands, and tonight that was the whole problem. Six for Minnesota Silver-Horns. Nobody carried the crosser, and that was a walk-in from twelve yards out.

He was beaten by a full step and it did not matter. Joe Thuney recovers, finds the ball late, and rakes it out at the catch point. Two points and a free kick coming back, and it started with a politician who flatly refused to be blocked by a man paid a fortune to block him.

The touchdown is barely over the line before Shawn Bradley is on one knee, ball held out in front of him, proposing to Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother covers his mouth with both hands, nods, then falls backward into the arms of three linemen. This is a bit they have run since training camp and it kills every single time.

This place is SHAKING! Noah has been living in that backfield all night and every soul in here knows it! Interference on Noah. Automatic first down, the drive stays alive, and this defense has to line up all over again. Second time in three drives. Minnesota Silver-Horns punches it in from the two and our front seven is standing there with hands on knees.

Second kneel. Clock under forty. George Washington watches the play clock burn, waits, waits some more, and goes down again.

George Washington leaps into the front row of the stands. The front row is empty. Theodore Roosevelt pretends he saw nothing. And here is the answer to our game show The Ninety Minute Fiance! Idalene Crutchfield of Mud Lick Station, Kentucky, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'How long does an engagement last if it begins during a fourth quarter comeback?' The answer was of course exactly as long as the comeback does. Idalene therefore wins a commemorative plate honoring a couple who did not make it! The press box elevator has been broken since August. Nine flights, every week, all season. My calves say hello. That is our broadcast. Coming up: 'Iron Chef: Secret Ingredient Is Whatever Was on Sale.'

Matchday 6 — vs Denver Orange-Barrels

16-22 (L)

Fifteen honest minutes of coverage undone by one snap. The cook knows all about work that only gets noticed the day it goes wrong.

Sack number, oh, does it even matter now? Joe Thuney gets there AGAIN, and their right tackle is still looking for his helmet. This is the value of travel coverage: Joe Thuney follows him everywhere, so the game plan they built all week is now scrap paper. That is the third field goal of the day for Denver Orange-Barrels. All those red zone stops, and we are still staring at nine points from a kicker.

Here is the design: the tackle occupies both interior blockers and Colonel Sanders loops into a completely clean A-gap. Drawn up on Wednesday, cashed in on Sunday.

Colonel Sanders jogs to the sideline, taps the chain crew on the shoulder, and asks for a measurement on a ball that crossed the goal line by nine yards. Three men in orange vests look at each other, and then, because nobody tells them not to, they do it -- chain out, stake down, the entire ceremony. The down judge points one arm downfield: first down, and also a touchdown. Colonel Sanders accepts the ruling with a small nod and jogs off like a man who simply needed to be sure.

That is a violent arrival. Colonel Sanders gets there at the same instant as the football and the receiver hears every bit of it -- they will not be throwing many more his way tonight. We held them out of the end zone and it still costs us. Three for Denver Orange-Barrels, because the scoreboard does not hand out credit for good defense.

The blitz came in like a wave and Guy Fieri was the crest of it. Nothing on that side of the formation stayed standing. Three-step drop, hitch route, and Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother was sitting on it the whole quarter. He has been baiting that throw since the opening series. Screen game to the field side. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother follows the guard, cuts off his hip at the thirty and finishes it untouched. The farmer has never once been thanked for the last step of anything. He puts it through and gets a pat on the helmet from the long snapper.

Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother turns to the corner section, lifts both arms slowly, and starts a wave. It clears the end zone, climbs the upper deck, comes all the way around the far side and finds him again, and he sends it straight back out. Three full laps. The extra point unit is standing on the field and the officials are waiting and nobody in this building is willing to be the one who lets it die.

Off the grass. Noah bangs the mud out of both cleats against the tunnel wall. Backstage: the artist's rider asks for a space heater and eleven bananas. Eleven. Not ten, not twelve. And now, our halftime TV game show Blockbusters in the Backfield! To win a mint condition fullback trading card from the wrong sport, text BLITZ to 555-0231 and answer this question: 'How many blockers does a fullback need in order to feel appreciated?' Second half! The band is off the field and the football is back on it.

Loss of four. Joe Thuney makes the stop, the chains do not move, and their sideline is already talking about field goal range. BOOM! Joe Thuney comes off the edge untouched and puts the opposing quarterback in the dirt for a loss of nine! Third and fourteen killed the drive, and the kicker finishes what the offense could not. Denver Orange-Barrels adds three and this becomes a chess match.

OH, THAT IS A GIFT AND HE UNWRAPPED IT! Guy Fieri with the pick, and the whole sideline is coming over the bench! Most defenders in that spot at least get a hand on a jersey. Guy Fieri never let him get close enough to reach for one. Credit the design here: two receivers crack the safeties, George Washington throws it on rhythm, and Guy Fieri catches the ball with a convoy already in front of him. Big touchdown, big celebration, and then the politician quietly comes on to file the paperwork. Point is good.

Clean snap, laces out, and the kick is pure. Denver Orange-Barrels is on the board, and there is nothing to complain about there -- that was textbook.

The queen mother lets the whole room stampede for the exit, waits one beat, and strolls out through the space they left behind. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother is still on his knees pointing at the bottom of the pile, but the officials are already signaling the other direction. This one is over.

Penetration on the strong side by Joe Thuney, the pulling guard grabs nothing but air, and the whole run concept dies on the hash marks. A false start backs them up five yards and it does not matter one bit. Good from forty-two, and Denver Orange-Barrels stretches the lead.

BATTED DOWN AGAIN! George Washington tries to fit it through the A-gap window and their nose tackle gets both hands on it at the top of the release! Nobody covers leg strength in farmer training, and yet here is one flipping an entire field with a single strike. That is what happens when you send a youtuber down on coverage: something gets dropped, and he already has both arms around it. One arm out, chin down, Nikocado Avocado through the arm tackle and up to the forty-two. He has been doing that all afternoon.

A youtuber lives and dies by timing, and he was a tenth of a second early on that one. Pass knocked down, drive stalled. Illegal substitution. Abraham Lincoln is caught halfway to the sideline at the snap, and the flag is out immediately. Field position, then penalties, then the score. Denver Orange-Barrels has taken this game away from us one small mistake at a time.

Shawn Bradley has the flat voice of a man reading a grocery list. Abraham Lincoln has no voice left to flatten. And here is the answer to our game Blockbusters in the Backfield! Dorsey Kittleson of Drizzle Gap, Washington, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many blockers does a fullback need in order to feel appreciated?' The answer was of course none, and that is the entire tragedy of the position. Dorsey takes home a mint condition fullback trading card from the wrong sport! Yours truly ate a pretzel roughly the size of a steering wheel and has no comment on the salt content. Thank you and good night. Coming up: 'Building Off the Grid: An Extension Cord Run Out to the Shed.'

Matchday 7 — vs Chicago Quarterback-Graveyard

24-29 (L)

Back-shoulder, and Joe Thuney smells it coming. He plants, opens the hips, and knocks it away in the corner of the end zone. Splits the uprights. Chicago Quarterback-Graveyard settles for three, and we will take that trade every single time after where that drive started.

Draw on second and twelve, Theodore Roosevelt up the middle, first down at the forty-one. Clock keeps rolling. Eighteen inches, and the explorer takes them the way he takes the last of anything at work: early, low, and completely without shame. Heavy personnel, six offensive linemen, and there was no mystery whatsoever about the call. Did not matter: Theodore Roosevelt follows the fullback and gets it in. Hold is upright, the spot never moves an inch, and Doctor Mike hits it flush. Nothing about that operation was rushed.

The whole squad drops into a huddle in the end zone, heads down, hands in, and holds it silently while the crowd waits. Then they break upward all at once with a roar and the ball goes straight up in the air. Theodore Roosevelt is in the middle of it with his helmet off. Somebody's mouthguard lands twenty yards away and nobody goes and gets it.

BOOM! Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother comes off the edge untouched and puts the opposing quarterback in the dirt for a loss of nine! The queen mother was handed the single hardest assignment on this field and treated it like an ordinary shift. No drama, no safety help, no completions. Third and fourteen killed the drive, and the kicker finishes what the offense could not. Chicago Quarterback-Graveyard adds three and this becomes a chess match.

That vertical did not come out of a football drill. Ask a explorer how many times a week he has to get himself over something in a hurry. It sounded like a car door slamming. Theodore Roosevelt watches the ball skip sideways along the turf while the block unit sprints the other way.

Second and 9. Doctor Mike stuffs it for a yard. Their ground game has averaged next to nothing since halftime. Our rush gets a hand up and misses by six inches. It is good anyway. Three for Chicago Quarterback-Graveyard, and the block unit walks off shaking their heads.

Halftime. The shoulder pads come off Abraham Lincoln and the steam coming off is genuinely visible. Small detail: Abraham Lincoln watches every halftime show from the top step of the tunnel. Every single one. And now, our halftime TV game show Tic Tac Tailgate! To win a card table with a permanent lean to the northeast, text BLITZ to 555-0087 and answer this question: 'What is the correct number of lawn chairs per parking space?' The kicker sets up alone on his 35 while the coverage unit waits down on the far 40. The stadium counts him down.

The family physician backed somebody into a small space and would not let him out of it. Depending on the day of the week, that is either a safety or a very long conversation at work.

Nikocado Avocado met that running back in a phone booth, and there was only ever room for one of them. Fifty-one yards and it is good with room to spare. Chicago Quarterback-Graveyard takes the lead back, and their kicker just woke that whole sideline up.

The farmer and his receiver have the sort of unspoken shorthand that only shows up between two people who have worked the same shift for years. Yards after contact are just overtime, and the cook has never once turned down overtime. A explorer does not really know the word cautious, and neither did that play call. Two points.

Grabbing on late and hoping for mercy -- the queen mother has talked his way out of worse, but never out of a spot foul. Ohhh, that one hurts. Chicago Quarterback-Graveyard runs the same counter they have run all afternoon, the backside end crashes again, and it is a touchdown.

Turnover! Nikocado Avocado punches it out at the top of the drop, then falls on his own mess at the 31-yard line. Watch the corner hips -- he is in phase, he is doing everything the coaching staff asked, and Nikocado Avocado beats him anyway because the ball goes where coverage cannot live. Twelve plays, eighty-one yards, and it ends with Guy Fieri diving in with three defenders hanging off his shoulder pads. That is a drive. Joe Thuney taps the point after through and this one is academic. Seven on the board.

Second and 14. Theodore Roosevelt with the tackle for loss, and that play call goes straight in the garbage. Count them up, there are TWELVE out there! Theodore Roosevelt never got the signal to come off, and that is five yards! The chains kept moving and nothing we tried slowed it down. Fourteen plays, seven minutes off the clock, and Chicago Quarterback-Graveyard finishes the drive with six.

Penetration on the strong side by Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother, the pulling guard grabs nothing but air, and the whole run concept dies on the hash marks. Sack number, oh, does it even matter now? Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother gets there AGAIN, and their right tackle is still looking for his helmet. That is the third field goal of the day for Chicago Quarterback-Graveyard. All those red zone stops, and we are still staring at nine points from a kicker.

Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother sits on the floor of the shower with the water off. Doctor Mike waits outside and says nothing. And here is the answer to our game Tic Tac Tailgate! Buster Klingensmith of Foam Finger, Georgia, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the correct number of lawn chairs per parking space?' The answer was of course seven, plus one that nobody will admit to bringing. Buster takes home a card table with a permanent lean to the northeast! During halftime I tried to interview the guy who runs the chains. He does not do interviews. Good night. Stay tuned for 'The Profit: Turning Around a Lemonade Stand With Aggressive Restructuring.'

Matchday 8 — vs New England Tuck-Rulers

25-29 (L)

NO SIR! Theodore Roosevelt gets a hand in at the last possible instant and that football hits the turf! BOOM! Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother comes off the edge untouched and puts the opposing quarterback in the dirt for a loss of nine! Clean snap, laces out, and the kick is pure. New England Tuck-Rulers is on the board, and there is nothing to complain about there -- that was textbook.

Freeze it at the stem -- Noah does not bite on the double move, keeps his eyes on the hip, and turns to run before the receiver does. Most people slow down as the hours pile up. The family physician is arriving faster in the fourth quarter than he was in the first.

Look at the get-off from Theodore Roosevelt -- he is two yards upfield before the center's hand leaves the football. You cannot block that. Fifty-one yards and it is good with room to spare. New England Tuck-Rulers takes the lead back, and their kicker just woke that whole sideline up.

PICKED OFF! Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother jumps that route like he called it in their huddle himself! Spin move at the line of scrimmage, Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother for seven. Third and two. THAT IS GOOD, AND IT WAS NEVER ANYTHING ELSE! Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother from 29 and that ball never wobbles once.

Slow, deliberate, ceremonial: Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother places the football on the goal line, straightens it twice, then steps back and salutes it. The bench salutes with him. Fourteen men at attention over a football. The referee has to break the formation up personally.

The family physician showed up in the backfield before the running back did. In his line of work they call that beating the traffic. Four-man rush, nobody blitzed. Doctor Mike wins a one-on-one in under two and a half seconds, and that is how you wreck a game plan. It is up, and it is through. Three more for New England Tuck-Rulers, and a two-possession game feels a whole lot different than a one-possession game.

The break. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother stretches that groin out along the wall while the coordinator talks. The pyro cues fire two full seconds early. Somebody in a production truck is having a rough afternoon. And now, our halftime TV game show Iron Chef Crock Pot Division! To win a nine-quart crock pot with the lid from a completely different crock pot, text BLITZ to 555-0451 and answer this question: 'How many crock pots is officially too many crock pots?' The teams jog out. Third quarter, and the adjustments start showing up right about now.

That is a jump ball won by wingspan and by sheer stubbornness, and Shawn Bradley has an unfair amount of both. George Washington pumps, the linebacker jumps, and Shawn Bradley is WIDE OPEN in the back corner! Easiest six points anybody scores today! That is the one kick you are not allowed to miss, and Nikocado Avocado missed it. Six instead of seven, and that math is going to matter later.

Whole receiving corps drops into a photo-booth strip: four different poses in four seconds, Shawn Bradley switching each one, everybody matching. Somebody in the group is a half beat behind on all four and it is, as usual, a lineman who followed them in. The gag ends with all of them face down on the turf and the crowd absolutely gone.

Give a queen mother one clean lane and a big man clearing the way, and suddenly he looks like he has been doing this instead of his actual job. The punt team already had one foot on the field. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother sends them back to the bench with three points instead.

Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother tucks the ball under his jersey, cradles the bump, and rocks it gently while walking the length of the end zone. Guy Fieri follows with a hand on his back like a very concerned husband. The New England Tuck-Rulers sideline is not amused. The referee already has the flag out of his belt.

Incomplete. Doctor Mike breaks it up on third down, and the punt unit starts to jog on. Our rush gets a hand up and misses by six inches. It is good anyway. Three for New England Tuck-Rulers, and the block unit walks off shaking their heads.

This place is SHAKING! Colonel Sanders has been living in that backfield all night and every soul in here knows it! There is nowhere left to go when the wall is already at your back, and Colonel Sanders just took away the last two yards they had.

Ball goes under the arm, Colonel Sanders sprints straight to the New England Tuck-Rulers logo at midfield and plants both feet on it, arms wide. Their entire sideline comes off the bench at once. Officials sprint in. Doctor Mike gets there first and drags him off the paint by the jersey while the home crowd screams for blood.

A false start backs them up five yards and it does not matter one bit. Good from forty-two, and New England Tuck-Rulers stretches the lead.

There is no defense for this. The corner is carrying vertically, George Washington drops it in behind him, and Guy Fieri stops on a dime to pluck it out of the air. HOUSE CALL! Five yard throw from George Washington, forty yard run from Guy Fieri, and a hitch route just went the distance! Watch the design: two receivers clear out the short zone, George Washington holds the safety with his eyes, and Shawn Bradley walks into a vacated end zone.

Second and long just got worse. Theodore Roosevelt with the sack, seven yards back, and the chains are a memory. Grabbing on late and hoping for mercy -- the explorer has talked his way out of worse, but never out of a spot foul. Second time in three drives. New England Tuck-Rulers punches it in from the two and our front seven is standing there with hands on knees.

Textbook rep. Colonel Sanders sets, punches, resets the feet, and that edge rusher runs himself a yard past the launch point. There is a faster way through and the cook found it years ago. He has never once explained it to a coworker. Thirty-two yards is the cook version of a task he could finish half asleep with one tool missing. Dead center.

Fingertips like that do not come from football practice. The family physician does precision work all week and it showed up at the catch point. Five yards for one extra body. The cook is used to being the man they call when they need one more pair of hands, and tonight that was the whole problem. Six for New England Tuck-Rulers. Nobody carried the crosser, and that was a walk-in from twelve yards out.

Doctor Mike yanks his chinstrap loose and lets the helmet hang off two fingers. Shawn Bradley carries his by the facemask. And here is the answer to our game Iron Chef Crock Pot Division! Sylvester Bopp of Maple Ditch, Vermont, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many crock pots is officially too many crock pots?' The answer was of course nine, and at ten the breaker in the garage files a formal complaint. Sylvester takes home a nine-quart crock pot with the lid from a completely different crock pot! The replay monitor froze in the second quarter and stayed frozen. I have been describing one still image with tremendous confidence. That's a wrap. Up next: 'Deadliest Catch: Retrieving a Phone from Between the Car Seats.'

Matchday 9 — vs Las Vegas Double-or-Nothing

31-34 (L)

HE GOT A PIECE OF IT! Theodore Roosevelt arrives with the football, and their receiver is still asking for a flag that is never coming! Second and long just got worse. George Washington with the sack, seven yards back, and the chains are a memory. We held them out of the end zone and it still costs us. Three for Las Vegas Double-or-Nothing, because the scoreboard does not hand out credit for good defense.

No targets, no catches, no yards. Noah is having the kind of quiet game that wins football games. They have first and ten and no room to operate. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother sheds the block at the line of scrimmage and wraps up the ball carrier before he can get out. Safety, two points, and we get the football back.

That is a violent arrival. Nikocado Avocado gets there at the same instant as the football and the receiver hears every bit of it -- they will not be throwing many more his way tonight. Third and fourteen killed the drive, and the kicker finishes what the offense could not. Las Vegas Double-or-Nothing adds three and this becomes a chess match.

The farmer pushed that fake the way he explains a delay to a customer: full eye contact, zero shame, everybody in the building believes him. Three grown men tried to stop a cook from finishing what he started. All three are now sitting on the grass reconsidering the plan. That football hung up there long enough for the whole stadium to do the math, and Guy Fieri was the only man in the building who got the answer right. Guy Fieri works so fast that the crowd is still chanting about the touchdown when the football is already through.

Guy Fieri spikes it, Abraham Lincoln spikes it, and then every man in the end zone spikes something -- a towel, a glove, a mouthpiece, an entirely imaginary object. It is a spiking epidemic. Turf pellets are hanging in the air like smoke. Three officials stand at the edge of it and simply wait for the weather to pass.

NO SIR! Colonel Sanders gets a hand in at the last possible instant and that football hits the turf! Twelve men on the field. Theodore Roosevelt jogs off shaking his head, and the penalty is exactly what it looked like. Las Vegas Double-or-Nothing goes deep on third and long and our safety arrives about a half second late. Fifty-two yards, and you can hear the concourse from here.

Break. Joe Thuney takes an IV in the back room, cleared by the team doctor. Not a habit, and not allowed to be one. One from the archives: Joe Thuney once conducted the visiting fight song from the sideline. Nobody stopped it. Nobody has ever explained why. And now, our halftime TV game show Legends of the Hidden Tarp! To win a stadium tarp folded by a man who has since retired and moved away, text BLITZ to 555-0186 and answer this question: 'What is underneath the tarp in the corner of the end zone?' Here comes the kick to start the third. Hold on to something.

He played the eyes the entire way. Doctor Mike never looked at the receiver -- he broke on the shoulder turn and the football came to him. The family physician takes one look at the mess in front of him, decides this one is not worth doing today, and parks the football safely in the seats. Colonel Sanders threads it between the numbers and the paint, and the football just lies down and goes to sleep inside the five.

Two-gap discipline from Joe Thuney: he holds his ground, sheds the double team late, and makes the tackle right on the football. Their quarterback is the last man with a chance at him and he takes the worst angle in the building. Colonel Sanders does not even have to make him miss. The loneliest job in football is the one where making it earns you nothing, and Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother just made it again.

Colonel Sanders drops flat on his back in the end zone and makes a snow angel in turf that has never seen snow. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother lies down beside him and does the same. Two men making angels in green rubber pellets while a defensive coordinator on the other sideline throws his headset into the ground.

Grabbing on late and hoping for mercy -- the queen mother has talked his way out of worse, but never out of a spot foul. Back shoulder fade at the pylon, and Las Vegas Double-or-Nothing comes down with it over a defender who had inside leverage and nothing behind him. Perfectly placed, and this one is on us.

Fifty-five seconds, no huddle, and George Washington already has this offense at the thirty. You cannot ask a nickel corner to carry a tight end up the seam. George Washington stacks him inside the five and the ball arrives over the shoulder the defender cannot find. This is where seasons get decided -- one snap, no safety net, and Shawn Bradley with the ball across the plane. Two.

George Washington reels Doctor Mike on an invisible fishing line, hand over hand, straining at the weight. Doctor Mike flops toward him across the end zone like something landed on a dock. The bench is doubled over. The referee waits with his hands on his hips like a man late for something.

Second time in three drives. Las Vegas Double-or-Nothing punches it in from the two and our front seven is standing there with hands on knees.

This is the discipline that keeps drives breathing. George Washington got all the way to his fourth read and never once looked rushed. The queen mother has never once figured out how to stop working at four o'clock, and that defensive front has spent the whole second half learning about it. SEE YOU LATER! Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother is gone, the corner pulls up at the twenty because there is no point in chasing, and that scoreboard has just flipped! Through the uprights! George Washington adds the point after and the lead grows by one.

The team has one final bit saved for exactly this: Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother and Doctor Mike shake hands in absurd slow motion, hold it, then the entire offense collapses to the turf around them in a choreographed heap. Eleven men down, two standing. The referee holds the ball and waits for the dead to rise. They take their time about it, and the stadium does not stop screaming once.

Shawn Bradley gets hauled out of the middle of it along with a body from the other side. The flags offset, the consequences do not. Six for Las Vegas Double-or-Nothing. Nobody carried the crosser, and that was a walk-in from twelve yards out.

BACK SHOULDER! George Washington puts it in the one place only Abraham Lincoln can reach it and perfect coverage counted for nothing! The farmer sent that one up with everything in the tank. Some jobs simply do not come with a guarantee attached, and this was one of them.

Abraham Lincoln stares at the video board like the number might correct itself. Colonel Sanders already knows it will not. And here is the answer to our game Legends of the Hidden Tarp! Odis Pennebaker of Tarpaulin, Mississippi, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is underneath the tarp in the corner of the end zone?' The answer was of course another tarp, and beneath that a folding table from 1971. Odis takes home a stadium tarp folded by a man who has since retired and moved away! Exactly one thing ruined this broadcast for me: somebody put decaf in the regular pot. I know who. Thanks for watching. Straight into 'Naked and Afraid: The Airport Rental Car Counter.'

Matchday 10 — vs Seattle Seismographs

35-37 (L)

A family physician lives and dies by timing, and he was a tenth of a second early on that one. Pass knocked down, drive stalled. Our rush gets a hand up and misses by six inches. It is good anyway. Three for Seattle Seismographs, and the block unit walks off shaking their heads.

George Washington pulled the emergency brake with the front wheel already off the cliff. Expensive, sure, but the bus is still on the road. Completion to the boundary from George Washington to Abraham Lincoln, gain of thirteen, both feet down inside the white and the rest of him already out. Abraham Lincoln strikes it, both arms go straight up behind the goalposts, and this crowd gets the three points it came down here for.

Abraham Lincoln pounds the ball twice against his chest plate and the sound of it carries. The bench picks it up on the third beat, then the lower bowl, then the whole building -- seventy thousand people stamping the same two hits over and over. Abraham Lincoln stands under the goalpost with his arms down and lets a stadium keep time for him. The Seattle Seismographs sideline burns a timeout it cannot afford, purely to make it stop.

Nobody on that offensive line got the memo they had a queen mother booked for the afternoon. Two seconds of work, one flattened pocket. THEY CANNOT FIND HIM! Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother is in his back pocket and their quarterback has come off him to the checkdown four straight snaps! We held them out of the end zone and it still costs us. Three for Seattle Seismographs, because the scoreboard does not hand out credit for good defense.

The opposing quarterback held it one beat too long, and Noah made him pay twice -- once for the loss, once for the football. Noah sells the mesh and lets it go flat, and the entire defensive front is running the wrong direction. Thirty-two yards is the farmer version of a task he could finish half asleep with one tool missing. Dead center.

OVER THE MIDDLE AND STILL STANDING! Shawn Bradley takes the safety's best shot at the far hash, and George Washington put that throw in the only window that exists! Second and 9, empty look, Shawn Bradley to Theodore Roosevelt underneath for seven. Fifty-plus is not a kick, it is a demolition order, and the explorer swings at it like the wrecking ball was his idea.

Theodore Roosevelt jogs to the sideline, taps the chain crew on the shoulder, and asks for a measurement on a ball that crossed the goal line by nine yards. Three men in orange vests look at each other, and then, because nobody tells them not to, they do it -- chain out, stake down, the entire ceremony. The down judge points one arm downfield: first down, and also a touchdown. Theodore Roosevelt accepts the ruling with a small nod and jogs off like a man who simply needed to be sure.

Second quarter done. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother spits the mouthpiece out and reaches for a bottle. The stage lift is stuck at half height and the singer is committing to it anyway. That is professionalism. And now, our halftime TV game show Tic Tac Tailgate! To win a card table with a permanent lean to the northeast, text BLITZ to 555-0087 and answer this question: 'What is the correct number of lawn chairs per parking space?' The units jog out. The coverage guys are slapping each other's shoulder pads.

The youtuber read that concept the way he reads the first ten minutes of a Monday: he knows what is coming and he gets there early. PULL AND SEAL! Nikocado Avocado leads the way and Theodore Roosevelt is following him into the second level! GET THE TAPE MEASURE OUT! Theodore Roosevelt from 56 and there was never a question after the first bounce of the crowd noise.

Theodore Roosevelt walks to the back line of the end zone, turns his back on the entire stadium, folds his arms across his chest and falls straight backward. Six men get there in time. Two of them were not looking. He lands a solid foot lower than he should have and comes up laughing too hard to stand up straight.

You do not usually hire a cook for demolition, but that run play was condemned on contact four yards deep. The hands tell the whole story -- Guy Fieri chops, rips underneath the outside shoulder, and the pocket collapses from the top down. Clean snap, laces out, and the kick is pure. Seattle Seismographs is on the board, and there is nothing to complain about there -- that was textbook.

Deadline work suits him. The farmer does his best thinking with somebody standing over his shoulder and the clock running out. Second and goal from the four. Inside zone, George Washington presses the edge, cuts it up underneath and gets in. Touchdown. Abraham Lincoln works so fast that the crowd is still chanting about the touchdown when the football is already through.

Their pass rush is out there swinging at a wall that Nikocado Avocado put up three seconds ago and has not moved an inch since. No wind, no pressure off the edge, no doubt from Nikocado Avocado. Down the middle from 36.

Guy Fieri was one body too many, and the umpire had him tagged before the football ever moved. The chains kept moving and nothing we tried slowed it down. Fourteen plays, seven minutes off the clock, and Seattle Seismographs finishes the drive with six.

Seven-man protection, nobody chipping, and George Washington hitched once at the top of the drop before he turned it loose. That hitch is what bought the separation. Elbows first, discussion afterwards. That is how a farmer wins the last space in the supply closet, and it is how he just won that football. THEY STUFFED IT! Abraham Lincoln gets nothing at all, the defense pours off that sideline, and the ball changes hands right here at midfield.

Guy Fieri jogs backwards asking the official what exactly he was supposed to do out there. The referee already has the microphone down. Second time in three drives. Seattle Seismographs punches it in from the two and our front seven is standing there with hands on knees.

Look at that defensive line standing straight up out of their stance. That is exhaustion, and Joe Thuney is the man who put it there. Joe Thuney keeps his eyes locked on the football and lets his feet do the arithmetic on their own. George Washington could not have found a smaller window. Joe Thuney treats a 31-yarder the way you treat a light switch. Flip it, walk off, three points.

Joe Thuney pounds the ball twice against his chest plate and the sound of it carries. The bench picks it up on the third beat, then the lower bowl, then the whole building -- seventy thousand people stamping the same two hits over and over. Joe Thuney stands under the goalpost with his arms down and lets a stadium keep time for him. The Seattle Seismographs sideline burns a timeout it cannot afford, purely to make it stop.

Officials, coaches, equipment staff, everybody is out there trying to pry this apart, and Colonel Sanders is being dragged backwards by the jersey. Back shoulder fade at the pylon, and Seattle Seismographs comes down with it over a defender who had inside leverage and nothing behind him. Perfectly placed, and this one is on us.

Five yards straight up the gut, and the explorer celebrates it about as much as he celebrates moving something heavy from one room to another. Clean snap, laces away, and Theodore Roosevelt does exactly what he has done all season from that range. The hold was perfect and he rewarded it.

Both linemen arrive first, which never happens, and they get to the end zone before the man who scored. Theodore Roosevelt has to wait for three hundred pounds of guard to finish a shoulder shimmy that would embarrass a wedding reception. The crowd loses it. The center attempts a split and is helped up by two teammates and a trainer.

Fingertips like that do not come from football practice. The explorer does precision work all week and it showed up at the catch point. IT IS A HEADCOUNT! Somebody on this sideline needs a clicker, because the official counted twice before he threw it at Theodore Roosevelt! Screen pass, one missed tackle at the thirty, and Seattle Seismographs is gone. That is a fundamentals problem, and the fundamentals are ours to fix.

Corner route out of the slot, one on one, no help inside. Abraham Lincoln wins at the top of the stem and the throw beats the safety. Touchdown. The 33-yard extra point stopped being free a long time ago, but Noah still treats it like it is. Right down the pipe. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother is insisting he did nothing, the official is already stepping off the yardage, and that is not a conversation anybody has ever won.

Twenty-two men guessed where that football was coming down and the family physician was the only one who guessed right. Call it experience, call it luck, we have the ball. You do not pick up feet like that at a seminar. A family physician has been wriggling out of tight spots since long before anybody handed him a helmet.

George Washington yanks his chinstrap loose and lets the helmet hang off two fingers. Colonel Sanders carries his by the facemask. And here is the answer to our game Tic Tac Tailgate! Buster Klingensmith of Foam Finger, Georgia, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the correct number of lawn chairs per parking space?' The answer was of course seven, plus one that nobody will admit to bringing. Buster takes home a card table with a permanent lean to the northeast! Fun fact: this chair is missing a wheel. Every time I lean left, I take a small unplanned trip. That's all for us. Next: 'Restaurant Impossible: Getting a Table Without a Reservation.' They fail.

Matchday 11 — vs Pittsburgh Dish-Towels

18-27 (L)

A youtuber lives and dies by timing, and he was a tenth of a second early on that one. Pass knocked down, drive stalled. The hands tell the whole story -- Colonel Sanders chops, rips underneath the outside shoulder, and the pocket collapses from the top down. Third and fourteen killed the drive, and the kicker finishes what the offense could not. Pittsburgh Dish-Towels adds three and this becomes a chess match.

Five-man pressure with a late twist inside, and nobody passes off the delayed linebacker. That one is not on George Washington -- that is a protection call gone wrong. The farmer has been kicking all afternoon and then drops a strike on fourth down. Hidden talents, revealed at the worst possible moment for the other sideline. Full speed, no glance sideways, not a single wasted motion. Whoever taught that cook to hand something off like that deserves a plaque.

This place is SHAKING! Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother has been living in that backfield all night and every soul in here knows it! Their sideline is out of ideas. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother shadows the route, the quarterback checks it down for two, and the chains stay right where they are. Splits the uprights. Pittsburgh Dish-Towels settles for three, and we will take that trade every single time after where that drive started.

Two hours of heavy physical labor, no applause, no lunch break -- the youtuber is having the most familiar afternoon of his entire life. The youtuber delivers that one right on time, right on target, and to entirely the wrong address.

Second and 14. Theodore Roosevelt with the tackle for loss, and that play call goes straight in the garbage. This one is on the headsets, not the player. Theodore Roosevelt was sent out for a package that got waved off two seconds too late. Ohhh, that one hurts. Pittsburgh Dish-Towels runs the same counter they have run all afternoon, the backside end crashes again, and it is a touchdown.

Both sidelines empty out. George Washington is the last one off the field, still jawing about that final snap. Fun fact: George Washington owns a JUGS machine. A personal one. In the driveway. The neighbors have filed opinions. And now, our halftime TV game show Hollywood Squares Office Pool! To win a laminated office pool grid from a company that no longer exists, text BLITZ to 555-0155 and answer this question: 'Who fills out the office pool square that nobody claims?' Out of the tunnel at a dead sprint. Somebody in there got the point across.

This was a numbers game and the offense won it before the snap: an extra hat at the point of attack and Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother untouched from eleven yards out. Official review. The Doctor Mike play. Both coordinators are out on the numbers with their call sheets rolled up in a fist. Ninety seconds of doubt, one second of relief. Doctor Mike points up at the crowd and the touchdown counts. Point after by Abraham Lincoln is no good. The score stays at six on the drive.

Both linemen arrive first, which never happens, and they get to the end zone before the man who scored. Doctor Mike has to wait for three hundred pounds of guard to finish a shoulder shimmy that would embarrass a wedding reception. The crowd loses it. The center attempts a split and is helped up by two teammates and a trainer.

Fourth and 4, they go to their number one, and Colonel Sanders says absolutely not. Ball on the ground, ball back to us. Nikocado Avocado was one body too many, and the umpire had him tagged before the football ever moved. And the flag gets picked up. Pittsburgh Dish-Towels keeps the touchdown, our sideline is screaming at the officials, and the scoreboard does not care one bit.

Nikocado Avocado and his unit have given up nothing on the last eleven dropbacks. That trench belongs to them now. Nothing in the working life of a youtuber prepares a man for taking a football off a professional cornerback eleven feet in the air. He did it anyway. From 51, on the road, into the open end of this stadium. Nikocado Avocado makes it. Three points.

Colonel Sanders plucked that thing out of the air with the calm of somebody taking mail out of his own box. Nothing hurried about it at all. Give a cook one clean lane and a big man clearing the way, and suddenly he looks like he has been doing this instead of his actual job. Colonel Sanders treats a 31-yarder the way you treat a light switch. Flip it, walk off, three points.

Colonel Sanders mimes lifting an enormous, impossibly heavy trophy off the turf -- knees bent, back straight, veins popping. It takes him four seconds to get it overhead. Joe Thuney spots him like a training partner. They parade it around the end zone and hand it, ceremonially, to the referee, who does not accept it.

Fourth quarter, 6.1 yards a carry, and Joe Thuney has won the leverage battle on rep after rep after rep. Perfect ball placement from George Washington -- away from the body, out of reach of the corner -- and Joe Thuney does the footwork they drill every Wednesday. Clean snap, laces away, and Joe Thuney does exactly what he has done all season from that range. The hold was perfect and he rewarded it.

The farmer understands a deadline better than anybody wearing a helmet out there, and he just bought his offense eleven extra seconds. The politician slips that tackler the same way he slips the one regular who wants to chat for twenty minutes at closing time. Everybody in the building tracks the flight, nobody breathes, and then Shawn Bradley hears the roar behind him. Good from 52.

Shawn Bradley tucks the ball under his jersey, cradles the bump, and rocks it gently while walking the length of the end zone. Guy Fieri follows with a hand on his back like a very concerned husband. The Pittsburgh Dish-Towels sideline is not amused. The referee already has the flag out of his belt.

That is a killer. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother turns late, the receiver runs through him, and the flag is in the air before the ball comes down. The chains kept moving and nothing we tried slowed it down. Fourteen plays, seven minutes off the clock, and Pittsburgh Dish-Towels finishes the drive with six.

Guy Fieri takes a hand from an Pittsburgh Dish-Towels lineman without making eye contact. Colonel Sanders makes eye contact and instantly regrets it. And here is the answer to our game Hollywood Squares Office Pool! Marvin Tuttlebee of Bent Antenna, Wisconsin, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'Who fills out the office pool square that nobody claims?' The answer was of course a man in accounting named Dale, and Dale wins every year. Marvin takes home a laminated office pool grid from a company that no longer exists! Tonight I high-fived my analyst so hard we both dropped our headsets. Four seconds of dead air. Worth it. Thanks for watching. Straight into 'Naked and Afraid: The Airport Rental Car Counter.'

Matchday 12 — vs Dallas Hole-In-The-Roof

29-43 (L)

Theodore Roosevelt was in a footrace he had already lost, so he tried to slow the traffic. The officials do not accept that excuse. Second time in three drives. Dallas Hole-In-The-Roof punches it in from the two and our front seven is standing there with hands on knees.

One second showing and the farmer pulls the plug. Not pretty work, but he saved the yardage and only spent a timeout. The farmer has never once figured out how to stop working at four o'clock, and that defensive front has spent the whole second half learning about it. Thirty-two yards is the farmer version of a task he could finish half asleep with one tool missing. Dead center.

BLOWN UP IN THE BACKFIELD! Theodore Roosevelt shoots the A-gap and drops him four yards behind the line of scrimmage! Count them up, there are TWELVE out there! Theodore Roosevelt never got the signal to come off, and that is five yards! And the flag gets picked up. Dallas Hole-In-The-Roof keeps the touchdown, our sideline is screaming at the officials, and the scoreboard does not care one bit.

Snap, hitch, THROW! George Washington puts it on the numbers of Abraham Lincoln and this offense has found a heartbeat! Second and six, Abraham Lincoln off the right hip of the tackle, gain of seven. First down, and the chains are on the move again. Clean snap, laces away, and Abraham Lincoln does exactly what he has done all season from that range. The hold was perfect and he rewarded it.

Sack, strip, recovery. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother does all three inside of two seconds, and this drive is dead on arrival. There is no elegance in that play and there is not supposed to be. Eleven bodies pushing in one direction, and Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother carries the football to the right side of a white line. The 33-yard extra point stopped being free a long time ago, but Nikocado Avocado still treats it like it is. Right down the pipe.

Halftime. Doctor Mike pulls the jersey over the pads and sits there in a soaked undershirt. Intel: Doctor Mike once bet a teammate on hitting the mascot with a football from midfield. Lost. Badly. And now, our halftime TV game show Bingo Under the Bleachers! To win a bingo dauber roughly the size of a fire extinguisher, text BLITZ to 555-0073 and answer this question: 'What number gets called last in bingo, statistically speaking?' Back out. The offense that never found a rhythm gets a completely clean start.

Third and 8, empty backfield, and Joe Thuney takes him down before the route concept ever develops. Punt team. Yellow laundry deep in the secondary, and it is on Joe Thuney. Pass interference, and the ball travels all the way down to the twenty. Play action freezes our linebackers, the tight end slips out behind them, and Dallas Hole-In-The-Roof scores with nobody in the picture. That is a bust, plain and simple.

Look at the break -- Abraham Lincoln drops his weight at fifteen and comes out of it dead flat, and George Washington already has the football in the air before his man turns his head. Somebody is going to sit through that clip in a defensive backs meeting on Wednesday, and Abraham Lincoln will not be the one squirming. Abraham Lincoln gets every bit of that ball, and the trajectory tells you at the 30 that it is going to clear with room to spare.

Abraham Lincoln reels Doctor Mike on an invisible fishing line, hand over hand, straining at the weight. Doctor Mike flops toward him across the end zone like something landed on a dock. The bench is doubled over. The referee waits with his hands on his hips like a man late for something.

Abraham Lincoln hears footsteps. He is already peeking at the safety before the ball arrives and it goes clean through his hands. Shawn Bradley punts, no return, ball spotted at the two-yard line.

HE GOT A PIECE OF IT! Guy Fieri arrives with the football, and their receiver is still asking for a flag that is never coming! Five yards marched off. Abraham Lincoln was the twelfth man, and a third and 6 just turned into third and 1 for them. Back shoulder fade at the pylon, and Dallas Hole-In-The-Roof comes down with it over a defender who had inside leverage and nothing behind him. Perfectly placed, and this one is on us.

TIMEOUT, TIMEOUT! George Washington gets both arms up with one second on the play clock and this sideline just aged a decade! Somebody holds a door open for the farmer and he walks through it without slowing down and without saying thank you. Eight yards. That is a five-yard cushion on a 55-yarder. George Washington did not just make it, he had another division of distance in the tank.

Interception, Guy Fieri, at the 40. Our offense comes back out with a short field and a live crowd. That is what the gloves were invented for, and Guy Fieri is the reason somebody keeps improving them. THAT IS GOOD, AND IT WAS NEVER ANYTHING ELSE! Guy Fieri from 29 and that ball never wobbles once.

Dallas Hole-In-The-Roof goes deep on third and long and our safety arrives about a half second late. Fifty-two yards, and you can hear the concourse from here.

Noah pulls to the right, logs the linebacker, and the run hits the alley for eight. Theodore Roosevelt turns that corner like he had the door code. Their edge defender never got a hand anywhere near him. Quick out, Theodore Roosevelt catches it at his own forty-five, breaks the arm tackle and outruns the angle. Fifty-five yard touchdown on a throw that traveled four. Big touchdown, big celebration, and then the queen mother quietly comes on to file the paperwork. Point is good.

IT IS A HEADCOUNT! Somebody on this sideline needs a clicker, because the official counted twice before he threw it at Noah! Screen pass, one missed tackle at the thirty, and Dallas Hole-In-The-Roof is gone. That is a fundamentals problem, and the fundamentals are ours to fix.

The farmer runs a two-minute offense the way he runs a long afternoon: one problem at a time, no wasted motion, and the very last problem on that sheet is called WIN. Coaches are drawing on the tablet, George Washington is nodding, and you can watch the plan land behind his eyes. The next snap decides the whole afternoon. Every farmer learns how to get out of a corner without making a scene. Nobody expected the lesson to transfer this well to a Sunday afternoon.

Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother slams her helmet into the bench. The bench wins. Theodore Roosevelt does not look up. And here is the answer to our game Bingo Under the Bleachers! Hazel Mae Stroganoff of Filbert Bottom, Oregon, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What number gets called last in bingo, statistically speaking?' The answer was of course B-4, and it has been waiting all night to say that. Hazel Mae takes home a bingo dauber roughly the size of a fire extinguisher! The press box elevator has been broken since August. Nine flights, every week, all season. My calves say hello. We're signing off. Next up: 'Shark Tank: Pitching a Second Umbrella to a Man Who Owns One Umbrella.'

Matchday 13 — vs Green Bay Shareholders

28-46 (L)

Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother was one body too many, and the umpire had him tagged before the football ever moved. Six for Green Bay Shareholders. Nobody carried the crosser, and that was a walk-in from twelve yards out.

OH, THAT IS A GIFT AND HE UNWRAPPED IT! Noah with the pick, and the whole sideline is coming over the bench! Smart, disciplined football from Noah. He takes the boundary instead of the middle, because the middle of the field bleeds seconds. Duo concept, double team on the nose, and the backside linebacker gets washed all the way out. Guy Fieri runs into a hole that three of his teammates built for him. The politician has never once been thanked for the last step of anything. He puts it through and gets a pat on the helmet from the long snapper.

And the flag gets picked up. Green Bay Shareholders keeps the touchdown, our sideline is screaming at the officials, and the scoreboard does not care one bit.

Third quarter, twenty-first carry, and Theodore Roosevelt is still falling forward at the end of every single one of them. Theodore Roosevelt lays it out to Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother behind the line, and the offense banks twelve on a call designed to punish greed. Fourth and goal, football on the one. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother gets it on the dive, climbs the back of his own center, and the officials put both arms straight up. Big touchdown, big celebration, and then the cook quietly comes on to file the paperwork. Point is good.

Whole receiving corps drops into a photo-booth strip: four different poses in four seconds, Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother switching each one, everybody matching. Somebody in the group is a half beat behind on all four and it is, as usual, a lineman who followed them in. The gag ends with all of them face down on the turf and the crowd absolutely gone.

Noah met that running back in a phone booth, and there was only ever room for one of them. Illegal substitution. Noah is caught halfway to the sideline at the snap, and the flag is out immediately. Second time in three drives. Green Bay Shareholders punches it in from the two and our front seven is standing there with hands on knees.

Halftime. Noah runs a towel over his face and it comes away a completely different color. Halftime entertainment: a country act in a denim jacket singing about a truck. It is going over enormously well. And now, our halftime TV game show Let Us Make a Handoff! To win a slow cooker full of chili that has been plugged in since Thursday, text BLITZ to 555-0470 and answer this question: 'Why does every stadium hot dog taste exactly like the year 1994?' Third quarter. The staff spent thirteen minutes drawing this up. Now we find out.

That is the value of a big-bodied target: Abraham Lincoln either catches it or somebody fouls him. Tonight it is the second one, and the chains do not care. Off the back shoulder, off the fingertips, off to third down. Abraham Lincoln shakes his head all the way back to the line. Watch the angle from Shawn Bradley -- he takes it off the right hash, aims at the numbers and puts it out of bounds inside the four. Directional punting of the highest order.

The queen mother clocked in, walked straight through the left tackle, and clocked the opposing quarterback out. Ten yards of paid overtime. Grabbing on late and hoping for mercy -- the queen mother has talked his way out of worse, but never out of a spot foul. Screen pass, one missed tackle at the thirty, and Green Bay Shareholders is gone. That is a fundamentals problem, and the fundamentals are ours to fix.

Textbook from Nikocado Avocado: he never goes for the body, he goes for the tomahawk on the throwing arm. Coaches run that clip on a loop. That receiver covered more ground than an afternoon delivery route, and Nikocado Avocado put the football exactly where the stride was going to be. Second and goal from the two and they just punch it. Abraham Lincoln behind the right guard, forward lean, football across the line. Noah works so fast that the crowd is still chanting about the touchdown when the football is already through.

The whole defensive unit has run the length of the field for this and arrives in two facing lines, arms raised into a tunnel. Abraham Lincoln has to walk all of it, shaking every single hand, like a man leaving his own wedding. It takes eleven seconds. The play clock is running and the officials are shouting and every one of those handshakes is worth it.

This started with a shove after the whistle and escalated in about two seconds. Colonel Sanders is in the middle of it and the crew will be sorting out numbers for five minutes. Back shoulder fade at the pylon, and Green Bay Shareholders comes down with it over a defender who had inside leverage and nothing behind him. Perfectly placed, and this one is on us.

Third and seven from the twelve. They empty the backfield, the mike vacates the middle, and Shawn Bradley finds the soft spot behind the linebackers for the score. The loneliest job in football is the one where making it earns you nothing, and Abraham Lincoln just made it again. Do that on the job and you get a laugh from the crew. Do it here and you get a flag, and the politician just learned the difference in public.

Shawn Bradley mimes a cigar length of a forearm and Guy Fieri arrives to cup both hands around an invisible match. The lighting takes a while -- there is wind in the end zone, apparently. Shawn Bradley takes one enormous pull, tips his head back, and blows a plume of nothing straight up at the lights. The Green Bay Shareholders bench watches all of it and does not enjoy a second of it.

That is a killer. Guy Fieri turns late, the receiver runs through him, and the flag is in the air before the ball comes down. The chains kept moving and nothing we tried slowed it down. Fourteen plays, seven minutes off the clock, and Green Bay Shareholders finishes the drive with six.

Not one yard. The cook met the ball carrier in the hole, and their run game would like to file a complaint. Splits the uprights. Green Bay Shareholders settles for three, and we will take that trade every single time after where that drive started.

George Washington has lived here before. Get to the line, read the safeties, spike or snap -- the operation looks rehearsed because it is. Two-minute warning, and the farmer checks that clock exactly twice: once very calmly, and once not calmly at all. George Washington climbs the pocket, checks it down to Theodore Roosevelt, wrapped up after a gain of five.

Theodore Roosevelt sits with elbows on knees, breathing like the game is still going. Noah is barely breathing at all. And here is the answer to our game Let Us Make a Handoff! Orval Muckenfuss of Hot Link, Texas, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'Why does every stadium hot dog taste exactly like the year 1994?' The answer was of course because that is the last time the water in the roller pan was changed. Orval takes home a slow cooker full of chili that has been plugged in since Thursday! I found out at halftime that Theodore Roosevelt once worked as a farmer. I have thought about nothing else since. Sorry about the third quarter. See you next week. In the meantime, enjoy 'Survivor: The Group Chat.' Somebody leaves every episode.

Matchday 14 — vs Buffalo Table-Breakers

15-30 (L)

Nobody on that offensive line got the memo they had a cook booked for the afternoon. Two seconds of work, one flattened pocket. The cook was handed the single hardest assignment on this field and treated it like an ordinary shift. No drama, no safety help, no completions. Splits the uprights. Buffalo Table-Breakers settles for three, and we will take that trade every single time after where that drive started.

Second and long just got worse. Noah with the sack, seven yards back, and the chains are a memory. Three-step drop, hitch route, and Noah was sitting on it the whole quarter. He has been baiting that throw since the opening series. Second and nine, Noah spins off the first tackler and gets to the marker. Fourth quarter, and he is still doing that.

Loss of four. Colonel Sanders makes the stop, the chains do not move, and their sideline is already talking about field goal range. Fifty-one yards and it is good with room to spare. Buffalo Table-Breakers takes the lead back, and their kicker just woke that whole sideline up.

Noah folded that pocket like a lawn chair, and the opposing quarterback never saw the ceiling coming down. SAFETY! Noah runs the arc, catches the opposing quarterback on his back foot and drops him in his own end zone -- two points!

The whole defensive unit has run the length of the field for this and arrives in two facing lines, arms raised into a tunnel. Noah has to walk all of it, shaking every single hand, like a man leaving his own wedding. It takes eleven seconds. The play clock is running and the officials are shouting and every one of those handshakes is worth it.

The cook showed up in the backfield before the running back did. In his line of work they call that beating the traffic. Third and 8, empty backfield, and Colonel Sanders takes him down before the route concept ever develops. Punt team. Third and fourteen killed the drive, and the kicker finishes what the offense could not. Buffalo Table-Breakers adds three and this becomes a chess match.

Halftime. The shoulder pads come off Joe Thuney and the steam coming off is genuinely visible. Did you know Joe Thuney picks the pregame playlist? The veterans have filed complaints through proper channels. And now, our halftime TV game show Jeopar-Deep Zone! To win a fifty-yard tape measure that stops without explanation at forty-one, text BLITZ to 555-0026 and answer this question: 'How much does a laminated play sheet weigh after a rainstorm?' Third quarter. The staff spent thirteen minutes drawing this up. Now we find out.

He played the eyes the entire way. Colonel Sanders never looked at the receiver -- he broke on the shoulder turn and the football came to him. Everything about this run is decided before contact. The fullback kicks out the force defender and Colonel Sanders only has to stay patient for one beat. The drive dies at the 12, but Colonel Sanders makes sure it was not a wasted trip down the field.

Play action freezes our linebackers, the tight end slips out behind them, and Buffalo Table-Breakers scores with nobody in the picture. That is a bust, plain and simple.

Grabbing on late and hoping for mercy -- the explorer has talked his way out of worse, but never out of a spot foul. Field position, then penalties, then the score. Buffalo Table-Breakers has taken this game away from us one small mistake at a time.

Shawn Bradley stacked the defender at the top of the stem, and once George Washington let it go the only option left was an arm bar. Spot foul, thirty-five yards. Hands up in the gap, ball down on the turf. Somebody needs to tell the politician that you cannot throw a football through solid furniture. The cook sets that ball down at the two-yard line, tidies up after himself, and hands the opposing offense the worst assignment of their week.

Illegal substitution. Joe Thuney is caught halfway to the sideline at the snap, and the flag is out immediately. Ohhh, that one hurts. Buffalo Table-Breakers runs the same counter they have run all afternoon, the backside end crashes again, and it is a touchdown.

That is a coverage disguise and a half. Theodore Roosevelt shows two-high, spins down into the flat, and the opposing quarterback throws it right to him. Five yards through the air, twenty-eight on the ground. Theodore Roosevelt does the hard part after the catch, the way he always does. Watch the plant foot -- Theodore Roosevelt puts it right beside the ball, no lean, no hook. Inside 40 that is a rehearsed motion, not a kick.

Perfect execution up front -- the hands team gets walled away from the football and Nikocado Avocado arrives at the exact spot that kick was aimed at. Play action, quick game off it from George Washington, and Nikocado Avocado has a free release into the flat with nobody within five yards. Six on the board. Through the uprights! Shawn Bradley adds the point after and the lead grows by one.

Nikocado Avocado points one finger at the sky and holds it, helmet off, eyes shut, standing dead still while the stadium comes apart around him. Nobody touches him for four full seconds. Then George Washington wraps him up from behind and lifts him clean off the ground, and the noise doubles.

George Washington announces that the bus leaves in twenty. Guy Fieri has nothing to say about the bus. And here is the answer to our game Jeopar-Deep Zone! Nadine Frankenberry of Rooster Ridge, Missouri, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How much does a laminated play sheet weigh after a rainstorm?' The answer was of course eleven pounds, most of it decisions the coach now regrets. Nadine takes home a fifty-yard tape measure that stops without explanation at forty-one! I spent this game trying to remember where I parked. I have narrowed it down to two lots. Thank you and good night. Coming up: 'Building Off the Grid: An Extension Cord Run Out to the Shed.'

Matchday 15 — vs Philadelphia Pole-Greasers

22-52 (L)

We held them out of the end zone and it still costs us. Three for Philadelphia Pole-Greasers, because the scoreboard does not hand out credit for good defense.

Fourth quarter, prime time, and Doctor Mike rips the game right out of their hands. Their quarterback is still on the turf pointing at his own line! The pile stops moving and Doctor Mike keeps churning his legs for another half yard anyway. That right there is the difference between three points and six. Nikocado Avocado taps the point after through and this one is academic. Seven on the board.

That is a killer. Joe Thuney turns late, the receiver runs through him, and the flag is in the air before the ball comes down. Field position, then penalties, then the score. Philadelphia Pole-Greasers has taken this game away from us one small mistake at a time.

Look at that sideline -- everybody waving both arms, the coach halfway onto the field, and George Washington standing perfectly still while it all happens around him. This is the throw that separates arms. George Washington has to beat a corner driving downhill from ten yards away, and he beats him with pure velocity. Abraham Lincoln treats a 31-yarder the way you treat a light switch. Flip it, walk off, three points.

Five yards for one extra body. The queen mother is used to being the man they call when they need one more pair of hands, and tonight that was the whole problem. Play action freezes our linebackers, the tight end slips out behind them, and Philadelphia Pole-Greasers scores with nobody in the picture. That is a bust, plain and simple.

Locker room. Noah runs cold water over both forearms until the shaking stops. Rumor has it Noah keeps the ticket stub from the first game he ever attended framed above the door at home. And now, our halftime TV game show That Is Somewhat Incredible! To win a scoreboard bulb the size of a mailbox, still warm, text BLITZ to 555-2188 and answer this question: 'How many stacked linemen would it take to reach the top of the scoreboard?' Third quarter. Fresh downs, fresh script, same scoreboard.

Interception, Joe Thuney, at the 40. Our offense comes back out with a short field and a live crowd. Three hands on him, and Joe Thuney rotates clean out of the wreckage and comes out the far side of it still climbing. The drive dies at the 12, but Joe Thuney makes sure it was not a wasted trip down the field.

The cook went into that pile looking for a teammate and came out with an ejection. Great instincts, terrible timing. And the flag gets picked up. Philadelphia Pole-Greasers keeps the touchdown, our sideline is screaming at the officials, and the scoreboard does not care one bit.

Fifty-one yards of airtime, delivered by George Washington over the outside shoulder of Guy Fieri, and the defensive game plan is now firewood. Guy Fieri takes off like a kid clearing a hedge and comes down eleven yards later with the ball still in his hands. Clean snap, laces away, and Guy Fieri does exactly what he has done all season from that range. The hold was perfect and he rewarded it.

Penetration on the strong side by Doctor Mike, the pulling guard grabs nothing but air, and the whole run concept dies on the hash marks. IT IS A HEADCOUNT! Somebody on this sideline needs a clicker, because the official counted twice before he threw it at Doctor Mike! Six for Philadelphia Pole-Greasers. Nobody carried the crosser, and that was a walk-in from twelve yards out.

There is no trophy for a farmer who does the boring part correctly, and yet here he sits at twelve of fifteen with a defense that has nothing left to grab onto. That is a gorgeous kick-out block, and Abraham Lincoln does the rest -- foot in the ground, north and south, nine yards. Thirty-two yards is the farmer version of a task he could finish half asleep with one tool missing. Dead center.

The family physician clocked in, walked straight through the left tackle, and clocked the opposing quarterback out. Ten yards of paid overtime. Pure technique breakdown: Doctor Mike never got his head around, and in this league that is a guaranteed thirty-yard donation. Screen pass, one missed tackle at the thirty, and Philadelphia Pole-Greasers is gone. That is a fundamentals problem, and the fundamentals are ours to fix.

This matters more than it looks. Shawn Bradley has that sideline believing, and a team that believes plays faster on special teams and in the fourth quarter. They keep feeding Shawn Bradley between the tackles, and those linebackers are already a half step slower than they were in the first quarter.

Ohhh, that one hurts. Philadelphia Pole-Greasers runs the same counter they have run all afternoon, the backside end crashes again, and it is a touchdown.

That is veteran nerve from George Washington. He waited to the last possible tick to see if the defense would tip its hand, and when it did not, he ate the timeout. Games get won right here, in the two feet of grass on either side of the football. And tonight George Washington is the reason this offense can do whatever it feels like. The farmer shows up, does the whole job in eleven seconds, and gets back on the bus. Three points, no overtime.

The offense lines up as a marching band across the goal line -- air trombones, air tuba, George Washington out front as drum major with the football as a baton. They high-step ten yards in something like time. It is genuinely terrible. It is also the best thing anyone in this stadium has ever seen.

That is a violent arrival. Theodore Roosevelt gets there at the same instant as the football and the receiver hears every bit of it -- they will not be throwing many more his way tonight. Illegal substitution. Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother is caught halfway to the sideline at the snap, and the flag is out immediately. The chains kept moving and nothing we tried slowed it down. Fourteen plays, seven minutes off the clock, and Philadelphia Pole-Greasers finishes the drive with six.

They drop into a two-high shell and dare him to take the underneath. George Washington will take it, and take it, and take it again, and the chains keep crawling. You can see it in the pad level. George Washington and the men beside him are coming off the ball lower than that front four, and this fight was decided in the second quarter.

George Washington takes a hand from an Philadelphia Pole-Greasers lineman without making eye contact. Doctor Mike makes eye contact and instantly regrets it. And here is the answer to our game show That Is Somewhat Incredible! Pearline Odom of Sand Gnat Junction, Georgia, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'How many stacked linemen would it take to reach the top of the scoreboard?' The answer was of course nine, though only the bottom two would ever speak of it again. Pearline therefore wins a scoreboard bulb the size of a mailbox, still warm! They told me this microphone would be replaced by tonight. They told me that in April. We're wrapping it up. Up next: 'Man vs Wild: A Weekend at My In-Laws.' No rescue is coming.