Well, so, basically, we're screwed. The defense is falling apart, the offense lost their workhorse running back, 38 guys went on IR since the game against the hated Ravens, Trai Essex is going to be starting at left tackle (if Alan Faneca doesn't), and the Jaguars are pretty damn good.
They already beat us -- and worse than the 29-22 score would indicate -- they can run the ball and stop the run, they've got a pretty good pass defense and a pass offene that's improving. And, even though they're the 5th seed and we're the 4th seed, they're on the road and we're at home, they're a warm weather team and we're a cold weather team... Vegas has them as two point favorites.
So, basically, we're screwed. Totally, completely screwed. These guys are tough, they're confident, they have a ton of talent, finally some stability at quarterback and consistency at wide receiver, and their pass defense (the Achilles heel of this defense during the Jack Del Rio Era) is considerably improved. We're catching them at the wrong time and they're catching us at the right time. They've won six of their last eight. We've lost three of our last four. And we lost to the Jets. And the Broncos. And Steelers West.
I just don't think the Steelers are very good. I don't think it's their year. The 2005 season was magical and special and completely awesome and we won the Super Bowl (as I may or may not have mentioned -- for the record, we did). Seems like a long time ago, doesn't it? But, as I've said repeatedly, a division title, a 10-6 record, and a playoff appearance is damn good for what I assumed would be a re-building season after Cowher officially announced he was retiring (even though he unofficially retired in March of 2006 and forgot to tell everyone).
All that having been said... I said during the 2005 run (and still stand by this) that the playoffs are like a reality show. The Steelers just happen to be the girl that got drunk the first night and threw up in the Bachelor's shoes while he was speed dating in the veranda. They're in. They're one of 12 teams left. So, the Patriots are a beautiful blonde with big tits and an ass that tastes like French vanilla ice cream. So Indianapolis is a stunning red head with a carpet that matches the drapes and nipples you could hand a coat on. They're still all in the same field of 12 at this point. It doesn't matter how anyone got here, it doesn't matter what I think or what anyone else thinks, they're still in the running to... accept the final rose, or whatever happens on that show. I myself prefer Flavor of Love and Rock of Love with Bret Michaels. The point is that, if they win out, no one can take that away from them. Everyone can talk about how they weren't the best team or they got lucky, or whatever. But no one can take it away from them. Anytime someone starts taking smack on Casey Hampton (something I would not recommend because he'll eat you), he can say, "Shut up, bitch! You see this ring?" All the players left standing understand this fact and if you think they're going down without a fight, you're mistaken.
And, everyone in the post-season has an x-factor.
The Titans have Vince Young. You're telling me that, after you watched him emasculate Pete Carroll and everyone on Southern Cal's squad in the Rose Bowl, you can't see him ripping off 4 great games that have the opposing team's defensive coordinator looking at sublets on Craig's List at halftime? Did you see what he did to the Trojans? You know how they cut down the nets after the Final Four? That's what Vince Young did. But to testicles. You're telling me you want to face him with the season on the line? I sure don't.
The Redskins have Joe Gibbs. Say what you want about him losing a step and that the game has passed him by. It's been too long since Gibbs was this close to a Super Bowl. With everything this team has gone through already, you're telling me he hasn't been pulling some serious shit in the background and that he can't inspire those guys to win three games against a dilluted NFC? C'mon.
The Giants have Michael Strahan. He's a big, gap-toothed, scary looking motherfucker that knows this is his last shot at a championship. Soup commercials aside... you really want to get in his way?
All those teams can make it and they have that x-factor. And so do the Steelers.
Ben Roethlisberger has no fear. He has a huge arm. He can bust out of a perfectly executed defense and nail you for 40 yards. Sure, he's unpredictable and he turns the ball over too much, but the Steelers threw up in some dude's shoes. They need to go for broke on this one. They've got nothing to lose, they're two point underdogs at home and their franchise tailback is going to watch the game on crutches.
They need to throw the ball. A lot. And then they need to throw it some more. When they're done throwing it, they need to think about running it, toy with the idea while the defense is on the field, and throw it some more.
As I've mentioned, Jacksonville is a great team. But, their weaknesses are that their secondary, while improving, isn't that great, and that they're not built to come from behind. They just aren't. If we jump out to a two touchdown lead on these guys, they're done. The home crowd will be fired up, they'll be looking for blood, and the Jaguars are simply not explosive enough to overcome more than a 10 point deficit. In spite of the fact that we don't have the muscle to put a game away, our best shot is to get up on these guys early and keep our foot on the gas. If we demoralize them in the first half, they'll try to come back in the second half, but they just don't have the firepower.
We need to come out like we're already down 14 points. Arians needs to call every freakin' pass in his playbook, then draw some shit up in the dirt between possessions. LeBeau actually doesn't need to get that creative. That'll come at Indianapolis, then at New England (or the other way around, if we get that far). But, Arians needs to come out swinging. Hard.
The best player still standing and the best player on the field Saturday night is Ben Roethlisberger. Jacksonville is going to stack the line of scrimmage and dare Ben to beat them. And that's precisely what he needs to do.
I feel so sad, like I'm a puppy that just took a shit on the carpet and the master rubbed my nose in it... all my doggy hopes and doggy dreams have fallen to poop.
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