My dream NFL team — american_football_team 🇺🇸

Matchday 1 — vs Kansas City Burnt-Ends

21-36 (L)

Look at the get-off from William Shakespeare -- he is two yards upfield before the center's hand leaves the football. You cannot block that. Clean snap, laces out, and the kick is pure. Kansas City Burnt-Ends is on the board, and there is nothing to complain about there -- that was textbook.

Michael Jackson pumps, the linebacker jumps, and Rob Gronkowski is WIDE OPEN in the back corner! Easiest six points anybody scores today! Somewhere in a booth three people are arguing over one frame of a stunt performer doing exactly what he does all week. He is only waiting to hear whether it counted. Slowed to a quarter speed and picked apart frame by frame, and the stunt performer still comes out of it clean. Not many people can stand that kind of inspection. Ash Ketchum works so fast that the crowd is still chanting about the touchdown when the football is already through.

Ash Ketchum 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.

HE GOT A PIECE OF IT! Rob Gronkowski arrives with the football, and their receiver is still asking for a flag that is never coming! Fifty-one yards and it is good with room to spare. Kansas City Burnt-Ends takes the lead back, and their kicker just woke that whole sideline up.

Hauling objects nobody else will go anywhere near is half of what a playwright does for a living, and it shows -- that defender is still down there thinking about it. That window is maybe eighteen inches wide. Pablo Escobar throws it before the break, which is the only way this football ever arrives. The throw was a rounding error. Everything after it belonged to Rob Gronkowski, who turned a checkdown into a highlight tape. Hold is upright, the spot never moves an inch, and Ash Ketchum hits it flush. Nothing about that operation was rushed.

Second and 14. King Von with the tackle for loss, and that play call goes straight in the garbage. Twelve men on the field, and the rapper was the spare one. Nobody on that sideline thought to tell him he was surplus. 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. Rob Gronkowski has a headset on, listening to the booth break down the third-down calls. Forty people in matching vests, one stage, zero margin. The grounds crew are the real athletes tonight. And now, our halftime TV game show Say Maybe to the Windbreaker! To win a team windbreaker in a size that does not exist, text BLITZ to 555-2427 and answer this question: 'At what temperature does a man at a stadium finally admit he needs a coat?' Here comes the kick to start the third. Hold on to something.

OH COME ON! William Shakespeare is halfway to the umpire to argue it and the yellow is already lying on the turf. Five-yard penalty, delay of game, on William Shakespeare. Repeat second down, and the down and distance is officially ugly. You cannot beat a good football team and the officiating crew at the same time. Pablo Escobar is finding that out on national television.

BOTH BENCHES ARE EMPTY! Bodies pouring onto the field around midfield, and Scooby-Doo is dead center in the pile. Second time in three drives. Kansas City Burnt-Ends punches it in from the two and our front seven is standing there with hands on knees.

NO SIR! King Von gets a hand in at the last possible instant and that football hits the turf! Five yards marched off. William Shakespeare was the twelfth man, and a third and 6 just turned into third and 1 for them. 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.

Third and 8, empty backfield, and William Shakespeare takes him down before the route concept ever develops. Punt team. No targets, no catches, no yards. William Shakespeare is having the kind of quiet game that wins football games. Our rush gets a hand up and misses by six inches. It is good anyway. Three for Kansas City Burnt-Ends, and the block unit walks off shaking their heads.

A superhero lives and dies by timing, and he was a tenth of a second early on that one. Pass knocked down, drive stalled. BOOM! Bruce Wayne 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. Kansas City Burnt-Ends adds three and this becomes a chess match.

Loss of four. Rob Gronkowski makes the stop, the chains do not move, and their sideline is already talking about field goal range. Four-man rush, nobody blitzed. Rob Gronkowski wins a one-on-one in under two and a half seconds, and that is how you wreck a game plan. We held them out of the end zone and it still costs us. Three for Kansas City Burnt-Ends, because the scoreboard does not hand out credit for good defense.

Motion, snap, handoff -- Scooby-Doo is basically a turnstile on this play, and it only works because the defense has to honor everything else he does. That is the down that keeps a game alive, and Rob Gronkowski did not blink at fourth and inches from his own forty-two. Second and goal from the seven. Flat and corner combination, Michael Jackson takes the corner route, and Rob Gronkowski catches it a yard deep with the pylon on his hip. Touchdown. The 33-yard extra point stopped being free a long time ago, but Bruce Wayne still treats it like it is. Right down the pipe.

Twenty-two men guessed where that football was coming down and the film producer was the only one who guessed right. Call it experience, call it luck, we have the ball. Mick Jagger sells the mesh and lets it go flat, and the entire defensive front is running the wrong direction.

Bruce Wayne laughs once. It is not a laugh. Mick Jagger pretends not to have heard it. And here is the answer to our game show Say Maybe to the Windbreaker! Rennie Sue Gallimore of Frostproof Hollow, Vermont, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'At what temperature does a man at a stadium finally admit he needs a coat?' The answer was of course nineteen degrees, and even then he calls it a jacket. Rennie Sue therefore wins a team windbreaker in a size that does not exist! The heater in this booth quit at the thirty-minute mark. There is a reason my notes get shakier after halftime. Good night from the booth. Up next: 'The Bachelorette: Twelve Guys Who All Own the Same Jacket.'

Matchday 2 — vs Miami Champagne-Corks

37-30 (W)

They will keep handing it to King Von until that goal line moves. Two yards this time, and everybody in the building knows what is coming next. The pile stops moving and King Von keeps churning his legs for another half yard anyway. That right there is the difference between three points and six. Off the iron! William Shakespeare rings the upright, the football caroms back toward the hash, and the whistle kills it right there. No good.

King Von mimes a cigar length of a forearm and YoungBoy Never Broke Again arrives to cup both hands around an invisible match. The lighting takes a while -- there is wind in the end zone, apparently. King Von takes one enormous pull, tips his head back, and blows a plume of nothing straight up at the lights. The Miami Champagne-Corks bench watches all of it and does not enjoy a second of it.

Second and long just got worse. YoungBoy Never Broke Again with the sack, seven yards back, and the chains are a memory. Press at the line, hip to hip down the numbers -- YoungBoy Never Broke Again takes the release away and the throw never leaves the quarterback's hand. Splits the uprights. Miami Champagne-Corks settles for three, and we will take that trade every single time after where that drive started.

POUNDED it in there! King Von through the B-gap with the pads low, and the chains are moving again. HOW did he get that off?! Michael Jackson hangs in a collapsing pocket with a rusher in his facemask, turns it loose at the last tick, and King Von hauls it in for six! Big touchdown, big celebration, and then the stunt performer quietly comes on to file the paperwork. Point is good.

That is a violent arrival. Ash Ketchum 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. Sack number, oh, does it even matter now? YoungBoy Never Broke Again gets there AGAIN, and their right tackle is still looking for his helmet. That is the third field goal of the day for Miami Champagne-Corks. All those red zone stops, and we are still staring at nine points from a kicker.

The rusher came in high with the crown, Michael Jackson had already let it go, and the officials called it exactly the way the rulebook is written. Empty backfield, single high, and Michael Jackson rips it into the window before the mike linebacker can open his hips. Efficient and a little mean. That ball dropped in like a key sliding into a lock, and Scooby-Doo was standing in the end zone before this crowd got its hands up. The superhero 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.

The linemen have been waiting all year for this. All five of them wall up in the end zone and hit a shoulder-roll wave down the line, big men moving in sequence like a slow tide. Scooby-Doo stands to the side and simply applauds. This is their moment and everybody in the building knows it.

The tablets come out. Mick Jagger and the quarterback are heads down over the coverage looks. Did you know Mick Jagger picks the pregame playlist? The veterans have filed complaints through proper channels. And now, our halftime TV game show Card Sharks and Coin Tosses! To win a commemorative coin that lands on its edge every single time, text BLITZ to 555-0302 and answer this question: 'How many times can you flip a coin before it starts making decisions on its own?' Second half. The tunnel is empty, the field is full.

You do not usually hire a superhero for demolition, but that run play was condemned on contact four yards deep. Right down the middle from thirty-four. Miami Champagne-Corks caps a twelve-play march with three, and eight minutes came off that clock with it.

This is the hardest tackle in football and Ash Ketchum makes it look routine: break down, chop the feet, wrap and drive.

PICKED OFF! King Von jumps that route like he called it in their huddle himself! One hand only, because the other one is occupied -- and for a rapper the other one is always occupied. No wind, no pressure off the edge, no doubt from King Von. Down the middle from 36.

A conga line forms out of nowhere: King Von at the front, Michael Jackson 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.

Screen pass, one missed tackle at the thirty, and Miami Champagne-Corks is gone. That is a fundamentals problem, and the fundamentals are ours to fix.

OH, THAT IS A GIFT AND HE UNWRAPPED IT! Rob Gronkowski with the pick, and the whole sideline is coming over the bench! This is the throw that separates arms. Rob Gronkowski has to beat a corner driving downhill from ten yards away, and he beats him with pure velocity. Twenty-two carries, twenty-two collisions. The detective is the only man on this field who has to do that kind of work twice, because he clocks in again tomorrow morning. Through the uprights! Kobe Bryant adds the point after and the lead grows by one.

Helmet off, Scooby-Doo looks up into a stadium doing something he will remember when he is eighty, and he just turns a full slow circle taking it in. No pose, no gesture, nothing for the cameras. King Von stands beside him with a hand on his shoulder pad and lets him have it. The loudest sixty seconds of anybody's season, and neither of them says a word.

Run the tape back on the substitution: Bruce Wayne steps in, the call changes, and nobody waves him back. That is the whole penalty in one clip. Miami Champagne-Corks 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.

THEY CANNOT FIND HIM! Mick Jagger is in his back pocket and their quarterback has come off him to the checkdown four straight snaps! Three-step drop, hitch route, and Ash Ketchum was sitting on it the whole quarter. He has been baiting that throw since the opening series. Quick out, Ash Ketchum 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. Mick Jagger jogs on, kicks it through, jogs off. If you blinked you missed the whole thing, and that is exactly the idea.

Fingertips like that do not come from football practice. The stunt performer does precision work all week and it showed up at the catch point. Five yards for one extra body. The detective 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 Miami Champagne-Corks. Nobody carried the crosser, and that was a walk-in from twelve yards out.

Michael Jackson kneels down like a man proposing to a scoreboard, and the whole building says yes.

Mick Jagger salutes the student section. King Von salutes the concession stand. And here is the answer to our game Card Sharks and Coin Tosses! Lurline Hardbarger of Sock Hop, Alabama, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many times can you flip a coin before it starts making decisions on its own?' The answer was of course forty, and after that you are simply asking it for permission. Lurline takes home a commemorative coin that lands on its edge every single time! The stat crew handed me a fresh page with three minutes left. I nodded like I read it. I did not read it. That's it from us. Up next: 'Wheel of Fortune: Every Puzzle Is a Wi-Fi Password.'

Matchday 3 — vs Cleveland Blank-Helmets

46-31 (W)

Perfect technique from Bruce Wayne -- he plays the ball, not the man, and there is not a flag anywhere on this field. A false start backs them up five yards and it does not matter one bit. Good from forty-two, and Cleveland Blank-Helmets stretches the lead.

This is the value of travel coverage: Bruce Wayne follows him everywhere, so the game plan they built all week is now scrap paper. Hear that? Pablo Escobar gets home in two seconds flat, and now they have to hand us the football on a free kick from their own twenty!

He was beaten by a full step and it did not matter. Rob Gronkowski recovers, finds the ball late, and rakes it out at the catch point. Count them up, there are TWELVE out there! Scooby-Doo never got the signal to come off, and that is five yards! Field position, then penalties, then the score. Cleveland Blank-Helmets has taken this game away from us one small mistake at a time.

Completion down the right sideline from Michael Jackson, twenty-two yards, and the defender never turned his head around. The detective spent two hours handling the worst customer in the building, and the guy is walking away with absolutely nothing to show for it. Somewhere there is a shift the detective is not covering right now, and nobody at that job site is complaining. Six points buys a lot of forgiveness. Michael Jackson looks at the holder, the holder looks at the grass, and neither of them has one useful thing to offer the other.

A conga line forms out of nowhere: Scooby-Doo at the front, William Shakespeare 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.

Kobe Bryant catches it at the boundary, taps the right, taps the left, and falls out. That is going to stand all day long. You can teach footwork and you can teach pad level, but you cannot teach a basketball player who runs like the goal line owes him money. Ash Ketchum converts. Seven points on the drive.

Off the field. Bruce Wayne is already flipping through the sideline photos of that last drive. The halftime act just thanked the wrong city. The stadium noticed immediately. And now, our halftime TV game show Family Feud on Fourth Down! To win a fantasy league trophy engraved with somebody else's name, text BLITZ to 555-0351 and answer this question: 'What is the plural of a guy named Chad in a fantasy league?' Both units in place. The referee signals ready and away we go.

The clock is melting and Michael Jackson is the calmest man in this stadium. HOUSE CALL! Five yard throw from Pablo Escobar, forty yard run from Michael Jackson, and a hitch route just went the distance! Big touchdown, big celebration, and then the philanthropist quietly comes on to file the paperwork. Point is good.

Ball tucked, Michael Jackson drops into a three-point stance facing the Cleveland Blank-Helmets bench and holds it. Just holds it. Their entire sideline is on the white line yelling. King Von hauls him up by the belt and steers him away before the yellow comes out, and the crowd boos the peacemaking.

Alone in space with the ball carrier, and the rapper does not miss. Whatever he does for a living clearly does not tolerate missing. Cleaning up after other people is basically the whole job description, and the rapper just did it at twenty miles an hour in front of a full house. The drug lord got that job 97 percent done, which anywhere else on earth counts as finished and out here is worth precisely nothing.

Ten push-ups in the end zone, one for every yard of the run, and YoungBoy Never Broke Again counts them out loud with the front row counting back. Rob Gronkowski sits on his back for the last four. He finishes them anyway. The crowd noise on rep ten is the loudest thing this building has produced all year.

There must be a training manual for being a superhero, and page one apparently says jump the out route right at the sticks. That is a big man staying on his feet through contact. Bruce Wayne refuses to go down and the value of the run doubles. Watch the plant foot -- Bruce Wayne puts it right beside the ball, no lean, no hook. Inside 40 that is a rehearsed motion, not a kick.

The whole defensive unit has run the length of the field for this and arrives in two facing lines, arms raised into a tunnel. Bruce Wayne 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.

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

Dumping the problem somewhere nobody is standing -- the philanthropist has tried that one at work too, and it went about this well. That is eleven completions in a row for Michael Jackson, and you can feel this building starting to believe in the drive. Give it to him twenty-two times and this is what you get. Kobe Bryant punished that front all afternoon and cashed it in from six yards out. What a finish. William Shakespeare taps the point after through and this one is academic. Seven on the board.

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

Sack, strip, recovery. Ash Ketchum does all three inside of two seconds, and this drive is dead on arrival. Twenty-two carries, twenty-two collisions. The stunt performer is the only man on this field who has to do that kind of work twice, because he clocks in again tomorrow morning. This is where seasons get decided -- one snap, no safety net, and King Von with the ball across the plane. Two.

Up onto the padded barrier in front of the first row, both feet off the turf, and Ash Ketchum 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 Cleveland Blank-Helmets sideline watches this with the expression of men attending a funeral.

Third and 12, Michael Jackson takes his shot on the boundary, and the chain gang gets to go for a walk. No panic at all there. A detective knows exactly when to put the tools down and come back to it later, and later around here is third down. This is the hidden yardage that decides football games. YoungBoy Never Broke Again just moved the line of scrimmage 58 net yards without an offensive snap.

Officials, coaches, equipment staff, everybody is out there trying to pry this apart, and Mick Jagger is being dragged backwards by the jersey. The chains kept moving and nothing we tried slowed it down. Fourteen plays, seven minutes off the clock, and Cleveland Blank-Helmets finishes the drive with six.

This is the zone beater. Michael Jackson freezes the deep defender with one hard look, and the crosser runs into the grass that man just gave up. The other sideline is pleading with the officials to hurry it along, and Rob Gronkowski is in absolutely no rush whatsoever. Everything about this run is decided before contact. The fullback kicks out the force defender and Rob Gronkowski only has to stay patient for one beat.

Scooby-Doo and Mick Jagger make a tunnel with their arms for Ash Ketchum to run through. He is in full pads. It does not go well. And here is the answer to our game Family Feud on Fourth Down! Dewey Hackleberry of Cinder Block, Illinois, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the plural of a guy named Chad in a fantasy league?' The answer was of course a commissioner, and you only need two of them to form one. Dewey takes home a fantasy league trophy engraved with somebody else's name! Tonight I said the word unbelievable nineteen times. My producer counted. My producer has too much free time. 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

38-34 (W)

Back-shoulder, and Rob Gronkowski smells it coming. He plants, opens the hips, and knocks it away in the corner of the end zone. Ash Ketchum folded that pocket like a lawn chair, and the opposing quarterback never saw the ceiling coming down. It is up, and it is through. Three more for New Orleans Bag-Heads, and a two-possession game feels a whole lot different than a one-possession game.

THEY OWN THE LINE OF SCRIMMAGE! Mick Jagger is driving grown men three yards downfield on every single snap! Mick Jagger times the jump perfectly, high points the football, and holds on through the contact. That is a fifty-fifty ball that was never fifty-fifty. Nine route from the boundary against off coverage. Mick Jagger eats the cushion, stacks the corner, and the football drops over his outside shoulder. Fifty-three yards, touchdown. Six feet. A rapper eyeballs six feet every single day of his life and gets it right. Not this time.

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

The stunt performer took something that did not belong to him and ran forty yards with it, and the only people upset about it are wearing the other jerseys. The loneliest job in football is the one where making it earns you nothing, and Mick Jagger just made it again.

Ash Ketchum reels Michael Jackson on an invisible fishing line, hand over hand, straining at the weight. Michael Jackson 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 and six, King Von off the right hip of the tackle, gain of seven. First down, and the chains are on the move again. King Von goes in low like a man forcing a jammed door with his shoulder, and the frame finally lets go. Second and goal from the four. Inside zone, King Von presses the edge, cuts it up underneath and gets in. Touchdown. The 33-yard extra point stopped being free a long time ago, but Rob Gronkowski still treats it like it is. Right down the pipe.

Ball goes under the arm, King Von sprints straight to the New Orleans Bag-Heads logo at midfield and plants both feet on it, arms wide. Their entire sideline comes off the bench at once. Officials sprint in. Bruce Wayne gets there first and drags him off the paint by the jersey while the home crowd screams for blood.

The room settles. Rob Gronkowski pulls a hoodie over the pads and yanks the strings tight. Two hundred flag twirlers and one gust of wind. We are watching physics happen live. And now, our halftime TV game show Supermarket End Sweep! To win eleven bags of ice, delivered slowly over the course of a summer, text BLITZ to 555-0071 and answer this question: 'How many bags of ice does a tailgate need, mathematically speaking?' Second-half kickoff. Everything from here counts double. Or it certainly feels that way.

Pure technique breakdown: Ash Ketchum never got his head around, and in this league that is a guaranteed thirty-yard donation. Ohhh, that one hurts. New Orleans Bag-Heads runs the same counter they have run all afternoon, the backside end crashes again, and it is a touchdown.

Oh, he is a MATCHUP PROBLEM! Michael Jackson throws it up where only his guy can reach it and Rob Gronkowski snatches it away from a man who gave up four inches! The entire building is watching the replay together, groaning and roaring at the same angles, while Pablo Escobar just paces. The replay runs four times on the big board, and four times this crowd gets a little louder for Pablo Escobar. Hold is upright, the spot never moves an inch, and Rob Gronkowski hits it flush. Nothing about that operation was rushed.

Michael Jackson attacks the intermediate middle, hits Rob Gronkowski on the deep cross, and he is dragged down at the far hash for nineteen. Coverage locked up, rush closing in, and Rob Gronkowski finds the outlet a heartbeat before contact -- and look at Pablo Escobar go for eleven! Everybody in the building tracks the flight, nobody breathes, and then Pablo Escobar hears the roar behind him. Good from 52.

Pablo Escobar hurdles a downed defender on the way in, and once he is over the line he turns around and hurdles Bruce Wayne for good measure. Bruce Wayne 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.

Fingertips like that do not come from football practice. The superhero does precision work all week and it showed up at the catch point. Illegal substitution. Kobe Bryant 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 New Orleans Bag-Heads finishes the drive with six.

The other coordinator is out of coverages and out of time, and Michael Jackson knows it. The unglamorous guy finally gets his! Michael Jackson blocked on eleven straight snaps and then walked into the end zone on the twelfth. He EARNED that football. They went for two and Rob Gronkowski converted it on straight power behind the right guard. Nothing exotic about it, just leverage.

Ball goes under the arm, Michael Jackson sprints straight to the New Orleans Bag-Heads logo at midfield and plants both feet on it, arms wide. Their entire sideline comes off the bench at once. Officials sprint in. YoungBoy Never Broke Again gets there first and drags him off the paint by the jersey while the home crowd screams for blood.

BLOWN UP IN THE BACKFIELD! Mick Jagger shoots the A-gap and drops him four yards behind the line of scrimmage! Twelve men on the field. Mick Jagger jogs off shaking his head, and the penalty is exactly what it looked like. Second time in three drives. New Orleans Bag-Heads punches it in from the two and our front seven is standing there with hands on knees.

Six rushers, five blockers, and Bruce Wayne is the free hat. That math was settled at the line of scrimmage.

Bruce Wayne was one body too many, and the umpire had him tagged before the football ever moved. 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.

They have one timeout left and Pablo Escobar is forcing them to spend it. Nothing outside the numbers, nothing near the boundary, nothing that stops that clock. Speed to the perimeter is the entire idea here, and Pablo Escobar has more of it than the linebacker chasing him. That race was over at the snap.

Michael Jackson unbuckles his chinstrap, stares straight into the camera, and says absolutely nothing for eight seconds. And here is the answer to our game Supermarket End Sweep! Alton Grizzle of Pork Rind, Arkansas, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many bags of ice does a tailgate need, mathematically speaking?' The answer was of course one more than you bought, always, at every tailgate since the beginning of tailgating. Alton takes home eleven bags of ice, delivered slowly over the course of a summer! I climbed onto the counter at halftime to fix the light in here. The light is still broken and now the counter is too. Good night, all. Stay tuned for 'Bar Rescue: A Folding Table and a Cooler.' The consultant is furious.

Matchday 5 — vs Minnesota Silver-Horns

22-23 (L)

Slow, heavy, relentless -- King Von is running a freight train through this thing and nobody has located the brake.

Michael Jackson steps up in the pocket and throws it down the left sideline to Scooby-Doo. Gain of forty-eight, brought down at the 15. The highlight shows will lead with that tonight, and Scooby-Doo treated it like a routine part of the carry. The drive dies at the 12, but Scooby-Doo makes sure it was not a wasted trip down the field.

Fourth and 4, they go to their number one, and Ash Ketchum says absolutely not. Ball on the ground, ball back to us. Our rush gets a hand up and misses by six inches. It is good anyway. Three for Minnesota Silver-Horns, and the block unit walks off shaking their heads.

The drug lord read that concept the way he reads the first ten minutes of a Monday: he knows what is coming and he gets there early. Yards after catch are the most valuable yards in this sport, and Pablo Escobar is collecting them by the fistful tonight. The drug lord shows up, does the whole job in eleven seconds, and gets back on the bus. Three points, no overtime.

He played the eyes the entire way. Mick Jagger never looked at the receiver -- he broke on the shoulder turn and the football came to him. Mick Jagger feels the arm across his back, spins off the contact, and keeps his balance through the entire thing. That is core strength. Thirty-two yards is the film producer version of a task he could finish half asleep with one tool missing. Dead center.

Ten push-ups in the end zone, one for every yard of the run, and Mick Jagger counts them out loud with the front row counting back. King Von sits on his back for the last four. He finishes them anyway. The crowd noise on rep ten is the loudest thing this building has produced all year.

Halftime break. An assistant hands Michael Jackson a tablet with every snap of the first half loaded up. Rumor has it Michael Jackson keeps the ticket stub from the first game he ever attended framed above the door at home. And now, our halftime TV game show Say Maybe to the Windbreaker! To win a team windbreaker in a size that does not exist, text BLITZ to 555-2427 and answer this question: 'At what temperature does a man at a stadium finally admit he needs a coat?' The crowd is back in its seats, mostly. The players are back on the field, entirely.

Gain of nothing. Pablo Escobar with the stop, and they are staring at third and long all over again. 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.

There is the CREASE! Pablo Escobar bounces off the seal and gets all the way to the numbers before the safety can close! FIFTY-FOUR YARDS AND HE HAS THE LEG! Pablo Escobar drills it and this place comes UNGLUED!

Pablo Escobar hurdles a downed defender on the way in, and once he is over the line he turns around and hurdles Michael Jackson for good measure. Michael Jackson 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.

Penetration on the strong side by Rob Gronkowski, the pulling guard grabs nothing but air, and the whole run concept dies on the hash marks. 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.

Bruce Wayne took the perfect angle there. He never chased the shoulders, he chased the sideline, and the sideline did the rest. PICK SIX! Bruce Wayne jumps the route and there is nothing between him and the end zone but forty yards of grass! The loneliest job in football is the one where making it earns you nothing, and Scooby-Doo just made it again.

Three receivers set the pylons in a triangle and Bruce Wayne bowls the football straight through them. Strike. All three go down. Mick Jagger does the scoreboard signal with both hands while an official jogs in reaching for his flag and the whole bench falls over laughing.

Five yards for one extra body. The detective is used to being the man they call when they need one more pair of hands, and tonight that was the whole problem. Minnesota Silver-Horns 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.

Seventy thousand people just made noise about a five-yard run, and that tells you everything -- King Von is wearing that defensive front out. THAT IS GOOD, AND IT WAS NEVER ANYTHING ELSE! King Von from 29 and that ball never wobbles once.

The rapper went into that pile looking for a teammate and came out with an ejection. Great instincts, terrible timing. Screen pass, one missed tackle at the thirty, and Minnesota Silver-Horns is gone. That is a fundamentals problem, and the fundamentals are ours to fix.

Michael Jackson has grass stuck in his facemask and does not pick it out. King Von notices and says nothing. And here is the answer to our game show Say Maybe to the Windbreaker! Rennie Sue Gallimore of Frostproof Hollow, Vermont, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'At what temperature does a man at a stadium finally admit he needs a coat?' The answer was of course nineteen degrees, and even then he calls it a jacket. Rennie Sue therefore wins a team windbreaker in a size that does not exist! Yours truly made it through four quarters on a single bathroom break. Do not applaud, it is just discipline. Thanks, everybody. Up next: 'Curb Appeal: Painting the Mailbox and Calling It a Renovation.'

Matchday 6 — vs Denver Orange-Barrels

33-28 (W)

Incomplete. Bruce Wayne breaks it up on third down, and the punt unit starts to jog on. Right down the middle from thirty-four. Denver Orange-Barrels caps a twelve-play march with three, and eight minutes came off that clock with it.

This one is on the headsets, not the player. Michael Jackson was sent out for a package that got waved off two seconds too late. Second and 9. Pablo Escobar stuffs it for a yard. Their ground game has averaged next to nothing since halftime.

HE GOT A PIECE OF IT! Rob Gronkowski arrives with the football, and their receiver is still asking for a flag that is never coming! This place is SHAKING! Bruce Wayne has been living in that backfield all night and every soul in here knows it! It is up, and it is through. Three more for Denver Orange-Barrels, and a two-possession game feels a whole lot different than a one-possession game.

The philanthropist 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. Nobody suspects a rapper of running a con on fourth and 3, which is precisely why the con worked. Corner route out of the slot, one on one, no help inside. Scooby-Doo wins at the top of the stem and the throw beats the safety. Touchdown. Watch the design: two receivers clear out the short zone, Michael Jackson holds the safety with his eyes, and Rob Gronkowski walks into a vacated end zone.

The stunt performer clocked in, walked straight through the left tackle, and clocked the opposing quarterback out. Ten yards of paid overtime. The stunt performer was handed the single hardest assignment on this field and treated it like an ordinary shift. No drama, no safety help, no completions. Fifty-one yards and it is good with room to spare. Denver Orange-Barrels takes the lead back, and their kicker just woke that whole sideline up.

The teams disappear inside. Rob Gronkowski taps the sign above the tunnel door on the way through. Halftime show time: a pop act on a rolling stage that four crews shoved out to the fifty by hand. Nothing rises out of this field. Everything arrives on wheels. And now, our halftime TV game show Truth or Pass Interference! To win a penalty flag that has been washed one time with a red sock, text BLITZ to 555-0398 and answer this question: 'What is the penalty for illegal use of enthusiasm?' They are back out. The first-half script goes in the trash, here comes the new one.

Panic out on the sideline, dead calm in the huddle. The philanthropist called it with a single tick to spare and did not so much as glance back at the clock. Off tackle to the right, Michael Jackson for eight. First down at the forty-one. Fifty-plus is not a kick, it is a demolition order, and the philanthropist swings at it like the wrecking ball was his idea.

He is UNBLOCKABLE right now! YoungBoy Never Broke Again is in the backfield again and their offensive coordinator just slammed the call sheet down! 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.

Completion to the boundary from Michael Jackson to Kobe Bryant, gain of thirteen, both feet down inside the white and the rest of him already out. Kobe Bryant turns that corner like he had the door code. Their edge defender never got a hand anywhere near him. Big body, soft hands, zero complaints. Every crew has a basketball player exactly like that, and every crew would fall apart without him. King Von works so fast that the crowd is still chanting about the touchdown when the football is already through.

Kobe Bryant tucks the ball under his jersey, cradles the bump, and rocks it gently while walking the length of the end zone. William Shakespeare follows with a hand on his back like a very concerned husband. The Denver Orange-Barrels sideline is not amused. The referee already has the flag out of his belt.

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.

No highlight, no replay, no mention on the broadcast. The stunt performer spent three hours making sure a very expensive man never had to think about him once. Ash Ketchum treats a 31-yarder the way you treat a light switch. Flip it, walk off, three points.

Ash Ketchum reels Kobe Bryant on an invisible fishing line, hand over hand, straining at the weight. Kobe Bryant 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.

Beautiful key read. Pablo Escobar sees the guard pull, runs the mesh point down, and meets the back before the handoff is even clean. The hands tell the whole story -- Pablo Escobar chops, rips underneath the outside shoulder, and the pocket collapses from the top down. 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.

Play clock at three, Michael Jackson gets the audible out, and the snap comes with one tick to spare. Snap, hitch, THROW! Michael Jackson puts it on the numbers of Scooby-Doo and this offense has found a heartbeat! That football hung up there long enough for the whole stadium to do the math, and Scooby-Doo was the only man in the building who got the answer right. The basketball player got that job 97 percent done, which anywhere else on earth counts as finished and out here is worth precisely nothing.

Two-gap discipline from William Shakespeare: he holds his ground, sheds the double team late, and makes the tackle right on the football. 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.

The corner has position, the corner gets a hand on it, and Kobe Bryant takes it off him anyway. Michael Jackson is going to keep throwing there all night. The basketball player spends all week doing the part of the job nobody ever puts on a poster. Six points says they remember his name tonight. Ask any philanthropist about the one small thing he got wrong in front of everybody. He still hears about it. This one loops until Thursday.

Twelve men on the field, and the rapper was the spare one. Nobody on that sideline thought to tell him he was surplus. The chains kept moving and nothing we tried slowed it down. Fourteen plays, seven minutes off the clock, and Denver Orange-Barrels finishes the drive with six.

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

Ash Ketchum and King Von perform a choreographed dance they clearly rehearsed in a hotel hallway at two in the morning. And here is the answer to our game Truth or Pass Interference! Bernice Twaddle of Elbow Grease, Minnesota, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the penalty for illegal use of enthusiasm?' The answer was of course five yards, and everybody involved has to sit down for a minute. Bernice takes home a penalty flag that has been washed one time with a red sock! I ordered a sandwich in the second quarter. It arrived after the final whistle. Somebody had a rough night in that kitchen. That is our broadcast. Coming up: 'Iron Chef: Secret Ingredient Is Whatever Was on Sale.'

Matchday 7 — vs Chicago Quarterback-Graveyard

29-39 (L)

HE GOT A PIECE OF IT! King Von arrives with the football, and their receiver is still asking for a flag that is never coming! Nobody on that offensive line got the memo they had a basketball player booked for the afternoon. Two seconds of work, one flattened pocket. 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.

That is CRUEL football! They sold pass, the linebackers bailed to their landmarks, and Pablo Escobar was fifteen yards downfield before anybody turned around! They went to the inside counter that time. Pablo Escobar was already sitting on it. Whatever the plan was, it is in the trash now. Thirty-two yards is the drug lord version of a task he could finish half asleep with one tool missing. Dead center.

Third and 9, they pick up 6. Mick Jagger closes the door in space and the punt team comes on.

Twelve men on the field. William Shakespeare jogs off shaking his head, and the penalty is exactly what it looked like. Screen pass, one missed tackle at the thirty, and Chicago Quarterback-Graveyard is gone. That is a fundamentals problem, and the fundamentals are ours to fix.

The philanthropist took one look at the plan, decided it was garbage, and rewrote the whole thing in nine seconds with eleven people waiting on him. Standard workday. This is why teams pay linemen real money. Michael Jackson drives his man five yards off the ball and King Von gets a lane you could park a bus in. King Von strikes it, both arms go straight up behind the goalposts, and this crowd gets the three points it came down here for.

Second quarter in the books. Pablo Escobar takes the tunnel steps two at a time. The visiting band is playing something big. Nobody in the upper deck can tell what. The tubas are committed, though. And now, our halftime TV game show Wheel of Fourth and Fortune! To win a lifetime supply of mustard packets that have all already been opened, text BLITZ to 555-0117 and answer this question: 'How many chicken wings are left in a fifty-piece order after four hours of tailgating?' Second half. Two quarters left and this one has plenty left in it.

Fingertips like that do not come from football practice. The rapper does precision work all week and it showed up at the catch point. Run the tape back on the substitution: Rob Gronkowski steps in, the call changes, and nobody waves him back. That is the whole penalty in one clip. Field position, then penalties, then the score. Chicago Quarterback-Graveyard has taken this game away from us one small mistake at a time.

Drawing the foul is its own skill: the basketball player leans in, sells it, and lets the officiating crew do the rest of the work for him. The interior of that defensive line is getting worn down, and Kobe Bryant is the reason. Every carry has moved the pile the same direction. Short yardage is manual labor and nothing else, and this is a basketball player who has done harder work than that for considerably less money. Through the uprights! Scooby-Doo adds the point after and the lead grows by one.

The offense lines up as a marching band across the goal line -- air trombones, air tuba, Kobe Bryant 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.

Ugly scene. Kobe Bryant 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. 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.

Four-man rush, nobody blitzed. Pablo Escobar wins a one-on-one in under two and a half seconds, and that is how you wreck a game plan. Pinned inside the one after that punt, they never got a chance to breathe. Pablo Escobar makes the tackle in the end zone. Two on the board.

Pablo Escobar 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. Michael Jackson is at the bottom pushing him higher, which is not helping anybody. Two officials and a very tired stadium employee talk him down.

Everybody else in the building is panicking. The philanthropist checks the clock, checks the sideline, and finishes the job on schedule. Michael Jackson stems inside, snaps it back out, and the ball is ALREADY there. Twelve yards, and he catches it with both feet in the end zone. YoungBoy Never Broke Again works so fast that the crowd is still chanting about the touchdown when the football is already through.

Ball tucked, Michael Jackson drops into a three-point stance facing the Chicago Quarterback-Graveyard bench and holds it. Just holds it. Their entire sideline is on the white line yelling. Bruce Wayne hauls him up by the belt and steers him away before the yellow comes out, and the crowd boos the peacemaking.

Second time in three drives. Chicago Quarterback-Graveyard punches it in from the two and our front seven is standing there with hands on knees.

Rob Gronkowski jukes at the twenty-five, picks up eleven more, brought down at the fourteen. Duo concept, double team on the nose, and the backside linebacker gets washed all the way out. Rob Gronkowski runs into a hole that three of his teammates built for him. Hold is upright, the spot never moves an inch, and Rob Gronkowski hits it flush. Nothing about that operation was rushed.

Rob Gronkowski 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. Scooby-Doo has been beside him the entire time, pointing at nothing at all.

Yellow laundry deep in the secondary, and it is on Rob Gronkowski. Pass interference, and the ball travels all the way down to the twenty. And the flag gets picked up. Chicago Quarterback-Graveyard keeps the touchdown, our sideline is screaming at the officials, and the scoreboard does not care one bit.

The philanthropist 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. Somebody holds a door open for the philanthropist and he walks through it without slowing down and without saying thank you. Eight yards.

YoungBoy Never Broke Again slams his helmet into the bench. The bench wins. King Von does not look up. And here is the answer to our game Wheel of Fourth and Fortune! Deloris Snavely of Gravy Boat, Ohio, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many chicken wings are left in a fifty-piece order after four hours of tailgating?' The answer was of course nine, and two of those are legally celery. Deloris takes home a lifetime supply of mustard packets that have all already been opened! I stepped outside for air at halftime and locked myself out. A ball boy let me back in. I owe that kid. Thanks for spending the night with us. Coming up: 'Naked Attraction: Choosing a New Phone Plan.' Brutal.

Matchday 8 — vs New England Tuck-Rulers

20-29 (L)

Perfect technique from Bruce Wayne -- he plays the ball, not the man, and there is not a flag anywhere on this field. The stunt performer clocked in, walked straight through the left tackle, and clocked the opposing quarterback out. Ten yards of paid overtime. 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.

The ball Michael Jackson put up there stayed airborne so long the concession lines had time to move. The risk there is enormous. You get flipped in the air and you land on your head, and Kobe Bryant clearly does not spend much time thinking about it. Clean snap, laces away, and Kobe Bryant does exactly what he has done all season from that range. The hold was perfect and he rewarded it.

Four-man rush, nobody blitzed. YoungBoy Never Broke Again wins a one-on-one in under two and a half seconds, and that is how you wreck a game plan. YoungBoy Never Broke Again has that receiver on a short leash, and the leash has not moved an inch since the opening kickoff. That is the third field goal of the day for New England Tuck-Rulers. All those red zone stops, and we are still staring at nine points from a kicker.

Smart, disciplined football from Michael Jackson. He takes the boundary instead of the middle, because the middle of the field bleeds seconds. Somebody is going to sit through that clip in a defensive backs meeting on Wednesday, and Rob Gronkowski will not be the one squirming. The punt team already had one foot on the field. Rob Gronkowski sends them back to the bench with three points instead.

Dunking the football over the crossbar has been illegal for a decade and Rob Gronkowski 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.

Nowhere to go. William Shakespeare plugs the hole and that running back is swallowed up for no gain. We held them out of the end zone and it still costs us. Three for New England Tuck-Rulers, because the scoreboard does not hand out credit for good defense.

The horn sounds on the second quarter. King Von pulls the helmet off before he even reaches the sideline. Backstage note: they rehearsed this show eleven times on a practice field two states away. 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?' The units jog out. The coverage guys are slapping each other's shoulder pads.

Two hours of heavy physical labor, no applause, no lunch break -- the stunt performer is having the most familiar afternoon of his entire life. Zero margin, no second try, and a white line that does not negotiate. The stunt performer has better footwork than most people manage getting out of a packed elevator. Fourth and 6 at the 15, field goal unit on, Ash Ketchum converts from 33. Three 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. Ash Ketchum 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.

HE GOT A PIECE OF IT! YoungBoy Never Broke Again arrives with the football, and their receiver is still asking for a flag that is never coming! 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.

They wanted the seam. Mick Jagger took the seam, took the football, and took eleven yards back the other way before the whistle. Every film producer learns how to get out of a corner without making a scene. Nobody expected the lesson to transfer this well to a Sunday afternoon. The film producer shows up, does the whole job in eleven seconds, and gets back on the bus. Three points, no overtime.

William Shakespeare met that running back in a phone booth, and there was only ever room for one of them. Second and long just got worse. William Shakespeare with the sack, seven yards back, and the chains are a memory. 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.

A philanthropist spends every week watching plans fall apart in real time, so a late blitz check barely registers as an inconvenience. The whole offensive line is pointing at him! Big men live for that, and Michael Jackson just gave the entire unit something to howl about! Thirty-two yards is the rapper version of a task he could finish half asleep with one tool missing. Dead center.

Bruce Wayne 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. Bruce Wayne follows that block the way a car follows a snowplow. Somebody else clears it, he just keeps his foot down. Bruce Wayne strikes it, both arms go straight up behind the goalposts, and this crowd gets the three points it came down here for.

Bruce Wayne mimes putting the entire New England Tuck-Rulers secondary to sleep, hands folded against his cheek, eyes closed, swaying gently. Their corner is in his face immediately. Bruce Wayne does not open his eyes. King Von arrives at a full sprint and physically removes him from the situation.

A stop was one snap away, and now William Shakespeare has handed the other sideline field position it did nothing to earn. Field position, then penalties, then the score. New England Tuck-Rulers has taken this game away from us one small mistake at a time.

In his day job the film producer deals with customers. Today he has exactly one, and that customer is extremely unsatisfied. There is nowhere left to go when the wall is already at your back, and Rob Gronkowski just took away the last two yards they had.

Interception, Rob Gronkowski, at the 40. Our offense comes back out with a short field and a live crowd. That one stings. Michael Jackson put it on a platter and Rob Gronkowski lets it clank off the palms. Third down coming up. Rob Gronkowski threads it between the numbers and the paint, and the football just lies down and goes to sleep inside the five.

Back shoulder fade at the pylon, and New England Tuck-Rulers 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 6, Michael Jackson completes the shallow cross, and the receiver turns it up inside the sticks for the first down. Scooby-Doo lets it fly from his own 44. It comes down inside a crowd of eight, gets slapped away at the goal line, and hits the grass. Incomplete.

Kobe Bryant refuses to take the pads off. Nobody makes him. King Von sits down next to him in full gear too. 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! My analyst brought a blanket to the booth tonight. I mocked him in the first quarter. I asked for a corner of it in the third. We're signing off. Next up: 'Shark Tank: Pitching a Second Umbrella to a Man Who Owns One Umbrella.'

Matchday 9 — vs Las Vegas Double-or-Nothing

35-42 (L)

Pablo Escobar jogs backwards asking the official what exactly he was supposed to do out there. The referee already has the microphone down. 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.

The opposing quarterback held it one beat too long, and William Shakespeare made him pay twice -- once for the loss, once for the football. Chemistry! You do not install that on a Wednesday, you build it over a thousand reps, and William Shakespeare and Rob Gronkowski have clearly put in the hours. OVER THE TOP! Rob Gronkowski goes airborne from the one and comes down with the nose of the football across the plane -- touchdown! Rob Gronkowski taps the point after through and this one is academic. Seven on the board.

Rob Gronkowski tucks the ball under his jersey, cradles the bump, and rocks it gently while walking the length of the end zone. Kobe Bryant follows with a hand on his back like a very concerned husband. The Las Vegas Double-or-Nothing sideline is not amused. The referee already has the flag out of his belt.

The rapper clocked in, walked straight through the left tackle, and clocked the opposing quarterback out. Ten yards of paid overtime. That is a killer. YoungBoy Never Broke Again turns late, the receiver runs through him, and the flag is in the air before the ball comes down. And the flag gets picked up. Las Vegas Double-or-Nothing keeps the touchdown, our sideline is screaming at the officials, and the scoreboard does not care one bit.

Jet motion, and Kobe Bryant puts it in the belly of Rob Gronkowski at a dead sprint! He is around the corner before the linebackers can flip their hips! STIFF ARM! Rob Gronkowski puts a hand in that facemask and DEPOSITS him on the turf! Get up, sir! TOUCHDOWN! Michael Jackson puts it on a rope and Rob Gronkowski squeezes it in with a defender draped all over his back! The stunt performer 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.

Rob Gronkowski spikes it, Scooby-Doo 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.

Five yards for one extra body. The detective 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 Las Vegas Double-or-Nothing. Nobody carried the crosser, and that was a walk-in from twelve yards out.

Halftime. King Von grabs a bag of ice and jams it under the elbow pad. The mascot is doing donuts on a four-wheeler near the twenty and security has decided to allow it. 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?' Kick is away, high and deep, and the third quarter is underway.

Screen game, blockers out in front, and Ash Ketchum sifts through all that traffic to make the tackle himself. That is a pro. Textbook from Ash Ketchum: he never goes for the body, he goes for the tomahawk on the throwing arm. Coaches run that clip on a loop. This was a numbers game and the offense won it before the snap: an extra hat at the point of attack and Ash Ketchum untouched from eleven yards out. YoungBoy Never Broke Again converts. Seven points on the drive.

Heavy set, extra lineman, Pablo Escobar behind the fullback for two. Ball spotted on the one-yard line. Twenty-two carries, twenty-two collisions. The drug lord is the only man on this field who has to do that kind of work twice, because he clocks in again tomorrow morning. Through the uprights! YoungBoy Never Broke Again adds the point after and the lead grows by one.

Pablo Escobar gets the ball to the mascot, who spikes it far better than any professional athlete has ever spiked a football. Pablo Escobar stands back and applauds honestly. Michael Jackson lifts the mascot onto his shoulders. This is now a mascot's game and everybody accepts it.

Ohhh, that one hurts. Las Vegas Double-or-Nothing runs the same counter they have run all afternoon, the backside end crashes again, and it is a touchdown.

The philanthropist tries to work under a very low ceiling and gets it swatted right back at him. Clearance matters in every line of business. THUMP! You heard that one in the upper deck. Pablo Escobar launches it 62 yards and the field position just flipped on its head. Punt muffed at the 30, recovered by YoungBoy Never Broke Again. First and 10, and our offense did not have to earn a single yard of it. YoungBoy Never Broke Again gets the football out in 1.6 seconds. Their pass rush might as well have stayed in the tunnel for that one.

This started with a shove after the whistle and escalated in about two seconds. Bruce Wayne is in the middle of it and the crew will be sorting out numbers for five minutes. The chains kept moving and nothing we tried slowed it down. Fourteen plays, seven minutes off the clock, and Las Vegas Double-or-Nothing finishes the drive with six.

That is a coverage disguise and a half. Ash Ketchum shows two-high, spins down into the flat, and the opposing quarterback throws it right to him. MERCY! Ash Ketchum just made a professional tackler look like a man stepping onto ice! BOOM, Ash Ketchum 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! Big touchdown, big celebration, and then the playwright quietly comes on to file the paperwork. Point is good.

Ash Ketchum 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 Kobe Bryant wraps him up from behind and lifts him clean off the ground, and the noise doubles.

He was beaten by a full step and it did not matter. King Von recovers, finds the ball late, and rakes it out at the catch point. Illegal substitution. Bruce Wayne is caught halfway to the sideline at the snap, and the flag is out immediately. Screen pass, one missed tackle at the thirty, and Las Vegas Double-or-Nothing is gone. That is a fundamentals problem, and the fundamentals are ours to fix.

OVER THE MIDDLE AND STILL STANDING! Scooby-Doo takes the safety's best shot at the far hash, and Michael Jackson put that throw in the only window that exists! Textbook way to defend it -- three men deep, everybody attacking the highest point, and the ball Scooby-Doo threw never had a friendly hand anywhere near it.

William Shakespeare is the last man off the field. YoungBoy Never Broke Again is the last man out of the locker room. Two different kinds of last. 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! Your favorite commentator made it to the final whistle. Voice gone, notes destroyed, extremely happy about all of it. That's our show. Up next: 'Storage Wars: My Parents' Attic.' Bidding starts at nothing.

Matchday 10 — vs Seattle Seismographs

25-36 (L)

That is the third field goal of the day for Seattle Seismographs. All those red zone stops, and we are still staring at nine points from a kicker.

William Shakespeare holds both hands up in the universal gesture of total innocence. The replay is about to be very unkind to that defense. Nothing in the training of a stunt performer covers a hundred men swinging at midfield, and yet there he is in the thick of it, getting thrown out.

Ash Ketchum met that running back in a phone booth, and there was only ever room for one of them. Nobody on that offensive line got the memo they had a stunt performer booked for the afternoon. Two seconds of work, one flattened pocket. It is up, and it is through. Three more for Seattle Seismographs, and a two-possession game feels a whole lot different than a one-possession game.

Nothing in the working life of a basketball player prepares a man for taking a football off a professional cornerback eleven feet in the air. He did it anyway. Kobe Bryant used that back pylon like a fence post -- plant, turn, and the football arrived like it had an appointment. The hold spun a half turn late, YoungBoy Never Broke Again adjusted, and the adjustment is what killed it. Ball dies right of the upright.

A conga line forms out of nowhere: Kobe Bryant at the front, Scooby-Doo 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.

He was beaten by a full step and it did not matter. Rob Gronkowski recovers, finds the ball late, and rakes it out at the catch point. This place is SHAKING! Mick Jagger has been living in that backfield all night and every soul in here knows it! Fifty-one yards and it is good with room to spare. Seattle Seismographs takes the lead back, and their kicker just woke that whole sideline up.

Off the field. William Shakespeare is already flipping through the sideline photos of that last drive. The visiting band is playing something big. Nobody in the upper deck can tell what. The tubas are committed, though. And now, our halftime TV game show Chain Link Reaction! To win two hundred feet of chain link fencing and absolutely no gate, text BLITZ to 555-2229 and answer this question: 'How many chain crew members does it take to measure a first down correctly?' They are back and they are ready. There is the whistle.

Their front four ran themselves eight yards past the football, and by the time the safety got downhill, King Von had already turned this into a chunk play. Watch the safety bite on the run fake -- that is all Michael Jackson needed. One high look, one window, King Von sitting down in the back of the end zone. Stopped short! Rob Gronkowski is wrapped up a yard from the goal line and the two-point attempt fails.

King Von mimes putting the entire Seattle Seismographs secondary to sleep, hands folded against his cheek, eyes closed, swaying gently. Their corner is in his face immediately. King Von does not open his eyes. Rob Gronkowski arrives at a full sprint and physically removes him from the situation.

The hands tell the whole story -- Pablo Escobar chops, rips underneath the outside shoulder, and the pocket collapses from the top down. Grabbing on late and hoping for mercy -- the drug lord has talked his way out of worse, but never out of a spot foul. Six for Seattle Seismographs. Nobody carried the crosser, and that was a walk-in from twelve yards out.

Across the field and UP THE SEAM! Michael Jackson leads Scooby-Doo perfectly and the nearest defender is eight yards behind him! No heroics from the detective. He took the sure thing, filed it correctly, and kept the whole operation upright -- that is the part of any job nobody applauds and everybody depends on. Nobody hires a rapper for his right leg. Fifty-four yards later, somebody probably should. Straight through, and that sideline detonates.

King Von drops flat on his back in the end zone and makes a snow angel in turf that has never seen snow. Kobe Bryant 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.

This one is on the headsets, not the player. Bruce Wayne was sent out for a package that got waved off two seconds too late. Play action freezes our linebackers, the tight end slips out behind them, and Seattle Seismographs scores with nobody in the picture. That is a bust, plain and simple.

Penetration on the strong side by William Shakespeare, the pulling guard grabs nothing but air, and the whole run concept dies on the hash marks. Count them up, there are TWELVE out there! William Shakespeare never got the signal to come off, and that is five yards! Seattle Seismographs 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.

Four-man rush, nobody blitzed. Rob Gronkowski wins a one-on-one in under two and a half seconds, and that is how you wreck a game plan. Erased. Rob Gronkowski has travelled with their number one all afternoon and that man has not seen a football since the coin toss. Right down the middle from thirty-four. Seattle Seismographs caps a twelve-play march with three, and eight minutes came off that clock with it.

Not one yard. The superhero met the ball carrier in the hole, and their run game would like to file a complaint. 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.

That is a gorgeous kick-out block, and Pablo Escobar does the rest -- foot in the ground, north and south, nine yards. Pablo Escobar gets every bit of that ball, and the trajectory tells you at the 30 that it is going to clear with room to spare.

Pablo Escobar 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 Bruce Wayne wraps him up from behind and lifts him clean off the ground, and the noise doubles.

Ten yards, one bounce, and King Von times the hop perfectly. He cannot touch it early, so he waits half a beat and then attacks it. The rapper spends all week doing the part of the job nobody ever puts on a poster. Six points says they remember his name tonight. Hold is upright, the spot never moves an inch, and Rob Gronkowski hits it flush. Nothing about that operation was rushed.

Michael Jackson has an untreated cut on his chin. Pablo Escobar is not hurt anywhere and somehow feels worse about it. And here is the answer to our game show Chain Link Reaction! Ramona Kaye Stillwell of Antler Bend, Montana, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'How many chain crew members does it take to measure a first down correctly?' The answer was of course three, plus one man who simply enjoys the walk. Ramona Kaye therefore wins two hundred feet of chain link fencing and absolutely no gate! I dropped my pen under the desk at kickoff and found it at the two-minute warning. Long night for both of us. That's a wrap on tonight. And now, 'Cold Case: The Umbrella I Left on a Train in 2019.'

Matchday 11 — vs Pittsburgh Dish-Towels

23-25 (L)

The playwright shut that gap the way he shuts up shop at the end of a shift: everything locked, nobody getting in. A false start backs them up five yards and it does not matter one bit. Good from forty-two, and Pittsburgh Dish-Towels stretches the lead.

William Shakespeare seals the edge and finishes the block on the ground. Gain of nine on the carry. The exchange from King Von to Rob Gronkowski happens at full speed with nobody breaking stride. That is timing you cannot install in a walkthrough. From 51, on the road, into the open end of this stadium. Rob Gronkowski makes it. Three points.

Rob Gronkowski mimes an enormous phone call from behind the goalpost, pointing at the ball, nodding seriously, holding up one finger to ask the crowd for quiet. Nobody quiets. He says a few words into his hand and hangs up. Mick Jagger takes the imaginary phone next and gets flagged for a call that lasted too long.

The hands tell the whole story -- Bruce Wayne chops, rips underneath the outside shoulder, and the pocket collapses from the top down. Freeze it at the stem -- Bruce Wayne does not bite on the double move, keeps his eyes on the hip, and turns to run before the receiver does. It is up, and it is through. Three more for Pittsburgh Dish-Towels, and a two-possession game feels a whole lot different than a one-possession game.

The superhero clocked in, walked straight through the left tackle, and clocked the opposing quarterback out. Ten yards of paid overtime. This is field position turning itself into offense. Backed up on their own two, they try to run play action out of it, and Bruce Wayne beats the tackle inside before the quarterback finishes his turn.

Slow, deliberate, ceremonial: Bruce Wayne 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.

Our rush gets a hand up and misses by six inches. It is good anyway. Three for Pittsburgh Dish-Towels, and the block unit walks off shaking their heads.

The teams disappear inside. King Von taps the sign above the tunnel door on the way through. Did you know? King Von has never watched a single replay of his own rookie season. Not one snap. And now, our halftime TV game show The Right Now Show! To win a wall calendar from 2013 with every game already circled, text BLITZ to 555-2534 and answer this question: 'What is happening right now inside the stadium tunnel?' Second half. The sideline heaters are glowing and the intensity is back up.

In stride! Michael Jackson hits Scooby-Doo on the move, and that is the throw defensive coordinators lose sleep over. Boring? Absolutely. But a detective 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. The rapper handles valuable things every single day of the week and picks the loudest hour of his entire life to put one on the floor.

OH, THAT IS A GIFT AND HE UNWRAPPED IT! Bruce Wayne with the pick, and the whole sideline is coming over the bench! The superhero was asked for five yards and quietly delivered twenty-five more. Call it pride, call it showing off, either way the chains moved. Thirty-two yards is the superhero version of a task he could finish half asleep with one tool missing. Dead center.

Bruce Wayne spins the ball on the turf, drops to a crouch, and stares at it like it owes him an explanation. It spins for a genuinely absurd amount of time. The crowd counts along. When it finally falls over, seventy thousand people yell at once and Bruce Wayne walks off without looking back.

Perfect technique from Mick Jagger -- he plays the ball, not the man, and there is not a flag anywhere on this field. 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.

There is no trophy for a philanthropist 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. The edge is GONE and Rob Gronkowski is through it! That is a defensive front getting moved off the ball on national television! Fourth and 6 at the 15, field goal unit on, Rob Gronkowski converts from 33. Three points.

Rob Gronkowski mimes putting the entire Pittsburgh Dish-Towels secondary to sleep, hands folded against his cheek, eyes closed, swaying gently. Their corner is in his face immediately. Rob Gronkowski does not open his eyes. Mick Jagger arrives at a full sprint and physically removes him from the situation.

Fingertips like that do not come from football practice. The superhero does precision work all week and it showed up at the catch point. This place is SHAKING! Rob Gronkowski has been living in that backfield all night and every soul in here knows it! Fifty-one yards and it is good with room to spare. Pittsburgh Dish-Towels takes the lead back, and their kicker just woke that whole sideline up.

Three-step drop, hitch route, and Bruce Wayne was sitting on it the whole quarter. He has been baiting that throw since the opening series. Escort service! Bruce Wayne is out in front of King Von and the ball carrier does not have to make a single cut until he is fifteen yards downfield! That is a five-yard cushion on a 55-yarder. King Von did not just make it, he had another division of distance in the tank.

Second and 14. Rob Gronkowski with the tackle for loss, and that play call goes straight in the garbage. Clean snap, laces out, and the kick is pure. Pittsburgh Dish-Towels is on the board, and there is nothing to complain about there -- that was textbook.

You can see it in the pad level. Bruce Wayne and the men beside him are coming off the ball lower than that front four, and this fight was decided in the second quarter. Elbows first, discussion afterwards. That is how a superhero wins the last space in the supply closet, and it is how he just won that football. Fifty-plus is not a kick, it is a demolition order, and the superhero swings at it like the wrecking ball was his idea.

Helmet off, Bruce Wayne looks up into a stadium doing something he will remember when he is eighty, and he just turns a full slow circle taking it in. No pose, no gesture, nothing for the cameras. Rob Gronkowski stands beside him with a hand on his shoulder pad and lets him have it. The loudest sixty seconds of anybody's season, and neither of them says a word.

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

Selling something nobody should be buying -- the philanthropist just closed that edge rusher without breaking a sweat, and it cost the defense five yards. Three defenders under it and only Michael Jackson actually played the football. Everybody else played the crowd. That is precisely how a Hail Mary gets caught.

King Von kneels on the turf where the last play died. Pablo Escobar does not go get him. And here is the answer to our game show The Right Now Show! Deltha Ray Kimbro of Sudden Valley Flats, Washington, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'What is happening right now inside the stadium tunnel?' The answer was of course somebody is looking for a helmet that is already on his head. Deltha Ray therefore wins a wall calendar from 2013 with every game already circled! Yours truly made it through four quarters on a single bathroom break. Do not applaud, it is just discipline. We're out of here. Next: 'The Great British Bake Off: Grocery Store Sheet Cake Division.'

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

15-23 (L)

The playwright showed up in the backfield before the running back did. In his line of work they call that beating the traffic. Second and long just got worse. William Shakespeare 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 Dallas Hole-In-The-Roof, because the scoreboard does not hand out credit for good defense.

Hands up, ball down, offense jogs back with nothing. Michael Jackson points at the line, and the right guard just nods. The rapper put so much into that swing you half expect the football to file a complaint. Sixty-two yards, no return, good night.

Right down the middle from thirty-four. Dallas Hole-In-The-Roof caps a twelve-play march with three, and eight minutes came off that clock with it.

Two-minute drill, no timeouts left, and that sideline grab by Rob Gronkowski keeps the clock stopped and this offense alive at the thirty-four. Third and one and they keep it on the ground. Rob Gronkowski slides off the double team and stretches the football over the goal line. Scooby-Doo gets to the pylon and reaches the ball across before the tackler can wrap him up. Two-point conversion is GOOD.

Rob Gronkowski gets the ball to the mascot, who spikes it far better than any professional athlete has ever spiked a football. Rob Gronkowski stands back and applauds honestly. King Von lifts the mascot onto his shoulders. This is now a mascot's game and everybody accepts it.

Not one yard. The playwright met the ball carrier in the hole, and their run game would like to file a complaint. Splits the uprights. Dallas Hole-In-The-Roof settles for three, and we will take that trade every single time after where that drive started.

The teams head in. Ash Ketchum unbuckles the chin strap and lets it hang the whole way. Not many people know this: Ash Ketchum auditioned for a televised singing competition before football. The tape exists somewhere. And now, our halftime TV game show Sunrise Stretch With Coach Lorene! To win a resistance band with no resistance left in it, text BLITZ to 555-2542 and answer this question: 'What is the correct warm up for a man who intends to sit down for three hours?' Kickoff to open the third quarter. Everything from here is a different game.

Third quarter, twenty-first carry, and King Von is still falling forward at the end of every single one of them. The tip of the football is kissing the far stake, and King Von is already up celebrating before the official even turns around. No statistic exists for what the rapper just did. He simply made sure nothing bad happened to anybody standing behind him, all afternoon long.

He never stops working -- Bruce Wayne has his arm around the pocket before his shoulder pad even lands. That is a hunter's instinct. There is no elegance in that play and there is not supposed to be. Eleven bodies pushing in one direction, and Bruce Wayne carries the football to the right side of a white line. The loneliest job in football is the one where making it earns you nothing, and Mick Jagger just made it again.

Bruce Wayne 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. Mick Jagger has been beside him the entire time, pointing at nothing at all.

Terrific decision by Michael Jackson, ball right into the frame of Kobe Bryant, and one hard step later he is standing in front of his own bench. The basketball player 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. The head coach waved the punt team off the field and put the season on Kobe Bryant. Fourth down, no dice -- and the other offense starts at the 41.

Third and 8, empty backfield, and Mick Jagger takes him down before the route concept ever develops. Punt team. Mick Jagger 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.

GONE around the edge! Rob Gronkowski feeds Kobe Bryant in stride and there is nothing but open sideline waiting! The play by Kobe Bryant is under review. The referee takes the tablet at the sideline, and this whole stadium drops to a murmur at once. The ruling on the field is overturned. Play awarded to Kobe Bryant. First down. Five yards straight up the gut, and the basketball player celebrates it about as much as he celebrates moving something heavy from one room to another.

The superhero went into that pile looking for a teammate and came out with an ejection. Great instincts, terrible timing. Field position, then penalties, then the score. Dallas Hole-In-The-Roof has taken this game away from us one small mistake at a time.

Eighty yards to cover and the philanthropist 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. Off tackle it is, the tight end seals the edge, and Michael Jackson is into the second level untouched!

Ash Ketchum refuses to take the pads off. Nobody makes him. Mick Jagger sits down next to him in full gear too. And here is the answer to our game show Sunrise Stretch With Coach Lorene! Iva Nell Ferrand of Pumpkin Center, Illinois, got it right. The question, I remind you, was 'What is the correct warm up for a man who intends to sit down for three hours?' The answer was of course none at all, and even that is ambitious. Iva Nell therefore wins a resistance band with no resistance left in it! Confession: I still cannot pronounce Ash Ketchum's last name correctly. I have had two weeks. My apologies to the entire family. That's a wrap. Up next: 'Deadliest Catch: Retrieving a Phone from Between the Car Seats.'

Matchday 13 — vs Green Bay Shareholders

19-22 (L)

A rapper lives and dies by timing, and he was a tenth of a second early on that one. Pass knocked down, drive stalled. Sack number, oh, does it even matter now? Bruce Wayne gets there AGAIN, and their right tackle is still looking for his helmet. Our rush gets a hand up and misses by six inches. It is good anyway. Three for Green Bay Shareholders, and the block unit walks off shaking their heads.

Free runner off the left edge and Michael Jackson goes down HARD. Loss of eight, and this drive just went into reverse. FAKE! Scooby-Doo pulls it down, steps up and fires to Kobe Bryant for the first down! The punt team just stole a possession! Nobody covered him. Kobe Bryant releases inside, sits down in the corner of the end zone, and the throw is a formality. Ninety-something percent of these go through in this league. King Von just found the other bucket, and the one-point margin is now live.

The stunt performer shut that gap the way he shuts up shop at the end of a shift: everything locked, nobody getting in. Splits the uprights. Green Bay Shareholders settles for three, and we will take that trade every single time after where that drive started.

Rob Gronkowski runs that exchange like clockwork and the perimeter belongs to them. Little plays like this stretch a defense sideways all afternoon. That vertical did not come out of a football drill. Ask a detective how many times a week he has to get himself over something in a hurry. Ball on the ground, other team on the ball. You cannot leave the detective holding something precious with a linebacker coming downhill.

Loss of four. Rob Gronkowski makes the stop, the chains do not move, and their sideline is already talking about field goal range. This place is SHAKING! Rob Gronkowski has been living in that backfield all night and every soul in here knows it! Fifty-one yards and it is good with room to spare. Green Bay Shareholders takes the lead back, and their kicker just woke that whole sideline up.

Locker room. Mick Jagger re-laces both cleats from scratch. Then does it again. The singer held that note for eleven seconds and this stadium held its breath for nine of them. And now, our halftime TV game show Are You Smarter Than a Long Snapper! To win a quarterback wristband of audibles for a team that no longer runs them, text BLITZ to 555-0102 and answer this question: 'How many words are in the longest audible ever shouted out loud?' The field is clear, the stage is gone, and the football is back.

Rob Gronkowski hurdles the defender at the thirty-one and gains eight more. First down. Ninety seconds locked on a sideline monitor, and Rob Gronkowski has aged about a year for every one of them. Overturned. The football moves the instant it hits the turf, and Rob Gronkowski never survives the ground. Incomplete.

That is the third field goal of the day for Green Bay Shareholders. All those red zone stops, and we are still staring at nine points from a kicker.

HE GOT A PIECE OF IT! William Shakespeare arrives with the football, and their receiver is still asking for a flag that is never coming! Right down the middle from thirty-four. Green Bay Shareholders caps a twelve-play march with three, and eight minutes came off that clock with it.

Beautiful setup by Michael Jackson -- he sells the deep drop, lets the edge rusher sprint himself into irrelevance, and drops it into a three-lineman escort. Fourth quarter, 6.1 yards a carry, and Pablo Escobar has won the leverage battle on rep after rep after rep. THROWN RIGHT TO HIM! Pablo Escobar never saw the corner squatting on that route and this is an absolute disaster.

Ohhh, that one hurts. Green Bay Shareholders runs the same counter they have run all afternoon, the backside end crashes again, and it is a touchdown.

One man, one lane, one chance, and William Shakespeare does not miss. That is a game-saving tackle in the third quarter. That football sat on the turf for half a second looking for an owner, and William Shakespeare adopted it and carried it home. The coverage sat right on top of that route and Scooby-Doo never got separation on the back line. Incomplete, and the scoreboard shows six.

Perfect execution up front -- the hands team gets walled away from the football and Pablo Escobar arrives at the exact spot that kick was aimed at. You cannot ask a nickel corner to carry a tight end up the seam. Pablo Escobar stacks him inside the five and the ball arrives over the shoulder the defender cannot find. The playwright 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.

Pablo Escobar 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. Pablo Escobar stands under the goalpost with his arms down and lets a stadium keep time for him. The Green Bay Shareholders sideline burns a timeout it cannot afford, purely to make it stop.

Rob Gronkowski peels the tape off his wrists in silence. Michael Jackson leaves his on. Cannot be bothered. And here is the answer to our game Are You Smarter Than a Long Snapper! Peggy Sue Yingling of Whistle Stop, Idaho, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'How many words are in the longest audible ever shouted out loud?' The answer was of course thirty-one, and four of those were a man simply describing a color. Peggy Sue takes home a quarterback wristband of audibles for a team that no longer runs them! Confession: I texted a friend score prediction before kickoff. I missed it by nineteen points. The message has been deleted. Good night. Next up: 'Property Brothers: They Argue the Entire Time and Nothing Gets Built.'

Matchday 14 — vs Buffalo Table-Breakers

23-36 (L)

You do not usually hire a film producer for demolition, but that run play was condemned on contact four yards deep. Nobody on that offensive line got the memo they had a film producer booked for the afternoon. Two seconds of work, one flattened pocket. It is up, and it is through. Three more for Buffalo Table-Breakers, and a two-possession game feels a whole lot different than a one-possession game.

King Von drops the shoulder and drives the pile to the one! You can hear that collision from the press box! You can teach footwork and you can teach pad level, but you cannot teach a rapper who runs like the goal line owes him money. Through the uprights! Bruce Wayne adds the point after and the lead grows by one.

Perfect technique from Mick Jagger -- he plays the ball, not the man, and there is not a flag anywhere on this field. Clean snap, laces out, and the kick is pure. Buffalo Table-Breakers is on the board, and there is nothing to complain about there -- that was textbook.

Hard count from Michael Jackson, and their edge rusher BITES! Flag is out, and this is a free play! Stiff arm at the thirty, Michael Jackson continues for nine more. Tackled at the twenty-one.

Rob Gronkowski hit that pile like a dropped anchor, and the entire run game stopped moving right there. We held them out of the end zone and it still costs us. Three for Buffalo Table-Breakers, because the scoreboard does not hand out credit for good defense.

Second quarter over. Michael Jackson walks with the eye black smeared halfway to his ear. For what it is worth: Michael Jackson worked a concession stand in high school. Nachos, mostly. Says the smell of that cheese never left. And now, our halftime TV game show Fear Factor Porta-Potty Round! To win an air freshener shaped like a pine tree, expired since the Clinton years, text BLITZ to 555-0225 and answer this question: 'What is the temperature inside a portable toilet in September?' The players stream back onto the field. The third quarter begins right now.

Three-step drop, hitch route, and Rob Gronkowski was sitting on it the whole quarter. He has been baiting that throw since the opening series. Third and 8 with 1:12 showing, Rob Gronkowski hits the out route and the receiver steps out at the 41. Clock stopped, timeouts intact. HE IS IN! Scooby-Doo takes the handoff, finds the crease in the B-gap and finishes it standing straight up! The playwright 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.

Scooby-Doo looks down at his empty hands and starts a frantic search of the end zone -- on his knees, patting the turf, checking under the pylon. The ball is tucked into the back of his own jersey and has been the entire time. William Shakespeare joins the search with total commitment and finds nothing. When Scooby-Doo finally reaches around and produces it, he holds it over his head like a man who has recovered a lost dog.

Screen pass, one missed tackle at the thirty, and Buffalo Table-Breakers is gone. That is a fundamentals problem, and the fundamentals are ours to fix.

Their sideline is out of ideas. Rob Gronkowski shadows the route, the quarterback checks it down for two, and the chains stay right where they are. SAFETY! Ash Ketchum runs the arc, catches the opposing quarterback on his back foot and drops him in his own end zone -- two points!

Fingertips like that do not come from football practice. The superhero does precision work all week and it showed up at the catch point. Illegal substitution. William Shakespeare is caught halfway to the sideline at the snap, and the flag is out immediately. Second time in three drives. Buffalo Table-Breakers punches it in from the two and our front seven is standing there with hands on knees.

Five yards marched off. King Von was the twelfth man, and a third and 6 just turned into third and 1 for them. Back shoulder fade at the pylon, and Buffalo Table-Breakers comes down with it over a defender who had inside leverage and nothing behind him. Perfectly placed, and this one is on us.

A false start backs them up five yards and it does not matter one bit. Good from forty-two, and Buffalo Table-Breakers stretches the lead.

Penetration on the strong side by Bruce Wayne, the pulling guard grabs nothing but air, and the whole run concept dies on the hash marks. Right down the middle from thirty-four. Buffalo Table-Breakers caps a twelve-play march with three, and eight minutes came off that clock with it.

Full speed, no glance sideways, not a single wasted motion. Whoever taught that basketball player to hand something off like that deserves a plaque. Technically that is perfect: Scooby-Doo keeps the ball high and tight in the other arm and never loses a stride doing it. Precision is precision in any trade. The detective hit his landmark on the exact step and the football was already waiting for him when he got there. Michael Jackson works so fast that the crowd is still chanting about the touchdown when the football is already through.

Whole receiving corps drops into a photo-booth strip: four different poses in four seconds, Scooby-Doo 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.

Everybody dives and nobody comes out with it except the stunt performer. Some people are simply built for the bottom of a pile. Ash Ketchum in the open field, one man to beat, and he leaves him GRABBING AIR! Ankles all over the turf!

Kobe Bryant sits with a towel over his head. King Von sits with his eyes wide open, aimed at the ceiling. And here is the answer to our game Fear Factor Porta-Potty Round! Norbert Fussell of Sulphur Bend, Nevada, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'What is the temperature inside a portable toilet in September?' The answer was of course exactly one degree warmer than a person can discuss politely. Norbert takes home an air freshener shaped like a pine tree, expired since the Clinton years! I learned tonight that Kobe Bryant used to be a philanthropist. Suddenly the footwork makes a lot more sense. See you soon. And now, a brand new episode of 'Border Security: The Line at the DMV.' Emotional scenes throughout.

Matchday 15 — vs Philadelphia Pole-Greasers

16-29 (L)

Fourth and 4, they go to their number one, and King Von says absolutely not. Ball on the ground, ball back to us. Kobe Bryant folded that pocket like a lawn chair, and the opposing quarterback never saw the ceiling coming down. That is the third field goal of the day for Philadelphia Pole-Greasers. All those red zone stops, and we are still staring at nine points from a kicker.

The philanthropist 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. Fourth and 9. King Von pins it at the two. That offense now has 98 yards of real estate in front of it. Credit King Von for that one -- he is the gunner, he is the reason that returner was thinking about a hit instead of the catch. King Von takes the handoff, hits the A-gap, and there is NOBODY bringing him down at first contact! Five hard ones!

It is up, and it is through. Three more for Philadelphia Pole-Greasers, and a two-possession game feels a whole lot different than a one-possession game.

Nobody on that offensive line got the memo they had a rapper booked for the afternoon. Two seconds of work, one flattened pocket. THEY CANNOT FIND HIM! King Von is in his back pocket and their quarterback has come off him to the checkdown four straight snaps! A false start backs them up five yards and it does not matter one bit. Good from forty-two, and Philadelphia Pole-Greasers stretches the lead.

Look at the break -- Scooby-Doo drops his weight at fifteen and comes out of it dead flat, and Michael Jackson already has the football in the air before his man turns his head. Two hours of heavy physical labor, no applause, no lunch break -- the detective is having the most familiar afternoon of his entire life. Two feet. Twenty-four inches between Scooby-Doo and a fresh set of downs, and that defense would not sell a single one of them.

The tunnel. Mick Jagger tosses the helmet to a ball boy and never breaks stride. Word is Mick Jagger has the marching band cadence set as a ringtone. On purpose. And now, our halftime TV game show Whose Line Judge Is It Anyway! To win a whistle with a pea in it that has stopped believing, text BLITZ to 555-0114 and answer this question: 'Who officiates the officials at a family cookout?' Second half! The stadium is on its feet and the coverage unit is bouncing.

NO SIR! Bruce Wayne gets a hand in at the last possible instant and that football hits the turf! Twelve men on the field, and the detective was the spare one. Nobody on that sideline thought to tell him he was surplus. 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.

Incomplete. YoungBoy Never Broke Again breaks it up on third down, and the punt unit starts to jog on. They have first and ten and no room to operate. Rob Gronkowski 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.

Beautiful key read. Bruce Wayne sees the guard pull, runs the mesh point down, and meets the back before the handoff is even clean. Twelve men on the field. Bruce Wayne jogs off shaking his head, and the penalty is exactly what it looked like. 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.

You do not usually hire a superhero for demolition, but that run play was condemned on contact four yards deep. The superhero clocked in, walked straight through the left tackle, and clocked the opposing quarterback out. Ten yards of paid overtime. Our rush gets a hand up and misses by six inches. It is good anyway. Three for Philadelphia Pole-Greasers, and the block unit walks off shaking their heads.

Perfect technique from YoungBoy Never Broke Again -- he plays the ball, not the man, and there is not a flag anywhere on this field. Right down the middle from thirty-four. Philadelphia Pole-Greasers caps a twelve-play march with three, and eight minutes came off that clock with it.

Jet sweep to the right, Rob Gronkowski on the handoff, gain of nine to the thirty-two. That is not a shove from Scooby-Doo, that is a grown man being driven into the ground like a tent stake. Play action, quick game off it from Michael Jackson, and Scooby-Doo has a free release into the flat with nobody within five yards. Six on the board. Big touchdown, big celebration, and then the superhero quietly comes on to file the paperwork. Point is good.

THEY GOT IT! Ash Ketchum comes up with the onside kick and this football game is not over! Play action out of a heavy set pulls both linebackers downhill. Ash Ketchum leaks out on the backside and there is not a defender within eight yards of him. Through the uprights! Scooby-Doo adds the point after and the lead grows by one.

Ball tucked, Ash Ketchum drops into a three-point stance facing the Philadelphia Pole-Greasers bench and holds it. Just holds it. Their entire sideline is on the white line yelling. Michael Jackson hauls him up by the belt and steers him away before the yellow comes out, and the crowd boos the peacemaking.

Kobe Bryant counts the yards again in his head. Two. It was two. Michael Jackson knows exactly what number he is on. And here is the answer to our game Whose Line Judge Is It Anyway! Ardith Muckle of Halibut Elbow, Alaska, got it right. The question, let me remind you, was 'Who officiates the officials at a family cookout?' The answer was of course an aunt, and her ruling is final and cannot be reviewed. Ardith takes home a whistle with a pea in it that has stopped believing! I dropped my pen under the desk at kickoff and found it at the two-minute warning. Long night for both of us. And now, a brand new episode of 'Assembling Furniture Without the Instructions.' Good night, everybody.