When last we met on the ol' prognostication stage, I was telling y'all that the Pats would beat the Colts and the Saints would bring down the Bears.
As if that wasn't retroactively embarrassing enough, I typed the following words with regards to the NFC Championship Game:
For the record, I wouldn't (bet on) this game with Mrs. Bootleg's bank account.
Well, after raking in the cake during the NFL's Divisional Playoffs, I did bet some of my excess booty on the Saints and the miniscule point spread. Right around the time Reggie Bush was going all 2 Cold Scorpio into the end zone, I kinda knew that I wouldn't be seeing any additional loot.
Do they teach "don't incite the home team/crowd" at USC?
Couldn't the co-ed who handled Bush's homework and took his tests pass this info along?
Still, on the plus side, these playoffs have given America the antics of Reggie Bush and sour grapes from LaDanian Tomlinson. This ensures that Black people's current third place standing on white folks' "We Hate That Race" rankings won't last much longer. We're movin' on up, so the current numbers one and two (Mexicans and "anyone that looks like a terrorist", respectively) better watch out!
As always, the following predictions are for entertainment purposes only (home team in CAPS):
Outright: 7-3 vs. The Spread: 4-6
CHICAGO BEARS (+7) vs. Indianapolis Colts
Yeah, I know…neutral field…but, the Bears will be wearing their home jerseys. This one won't be the "free money" that I guaranteed everyone on the Bears-Seahawks divisional game, but it's pretty damn close.
The Colts are here because the Chiefs' Herm Edwards continued to run Larry Johnson against an eight-man front long after it was obvious that it wasn't working.
The Colts are here because the Ravens' Steve McNair is a shell of the active, multi-faceted weapon that he was when he broke the NFL's color barrier in 19-dickety-two.
The Colts are here because you don't appreciate the gritty underdoggedness of the New England Patriots. You have no code, you have no honor and God was watching (TM, Bill Simmons).
A case could be made that the Colts were only the 4th best team in the AFC this season. The Chargers, Patriots and Ravens aren't playing today because all three beat themselves last month.
Meanwhile, the Bears have the ubiquitous "nobody respects us" card, which has no business working above Pop Warner, but damned if these zillion-dollar, groupie-f*cking superstar athletes don't actually need bulletin-board fodder to get up for a game.
I believe it was m'man Tom Daniels over at East Coast Bias who perfectly explained Peyton Manning's aversion to getting hit. The Bears D will pressure him into mistakes all game long, while Chicago's serviceable offense should score enough to make that seven-point spread, meaningless.
It hurts my heart to go against Tony Dungy, as us light-skinned bruthas with pencil-thin mustaches should stick together (shout out to Stoney Jackson!) But, the Bears won't be beat.
Final Score: Bears 22, Colts 17
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5 comments:
Looks like Jalen's gonna need to take up a paper route if he wants to be able to pay for college.
"Aaron? What were your gambling losses last year?"
I come for the brilliantly offensive racial commentary/comedy, but I stay for the sh*tty football picks.
Jesus, Cam, I hope you didn't bet any of your real money on Rex Fucking Grossman in the biggest game of the year.
"Honey, where'd this month's mortgage go?"
We're movin' on up, so the current numbers one and two (Mexicans and "anyone that looks like a terrorist", respectively) better watch out!
And That Bootleg Guy is OFFICIALLY back. We missed you, Cam.
It's too easy. Just too easy.
Stick to baseball.
Hey has anyone used Excel to figure out your success rate from your MLB free agent predictions from a few months ago?
Joe: "$700" But, you already knew that. And, shut up!
Mexican Guy: Glad you like the conversational racism! And, doesn't anyone remember my phenomenal run during the divisional playoffs? I went 3-1 that week, damn it! 3-1!!
Ron Mexico: I'm pretty sure I'm running at around 98% on those predictions. Prove me wrong, Nick'a. Prove me wrong.
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