Jeri Smith-Ready

The wind cries Brady

Un. Freaking. Believable.

The Ravens just almost beat the unbeatable Patriots. Almost. Almost. They were 20.5 point underdogs, but the wind was howling and McGahee was running and Ngata was tackling and Boller was connecting. Pats quarterback Tom Brady was having a bad night.

It all came down to the final drive. Score: Baltimore 24, Patriots 20, a minute and change to go. Pats 4th and 1, and the Ravens squashed them. Game over.

No.

Ravens defensive coordinator Rex Ryan had called a timeout before the snap--there was no play. Ravens D freaks out, ready to kill coach Brian Billick, whom they thought had called the TO.

Next play, 4th and 1 again. Pats fullback Heath Evans stuffed like a turkey for a one-yard loss. Game over!

No.

Patriots guard Russ Hochstein is called for a false start. That play also didn't happen.

A few nail-gnawing plays later, Pats are 4th and 6. Brady makes an incomplete pass to the end zone. GAME *^(*)#ing OVER!

No.

Ravens are called on what everyone agrees is a dubious defensive holding penalty. It's first-and-goal at the 8.

With a dull ache in our stomachs, we begin to understand that the game truly is over now, because this season holds what ESPN commentator Tony Kornheiser called a "tragic inevitability." Nothing, not a running back on fire, not a bloodthirsty defense, not even Mother Nature herself can stop the New England Patriots. Possibly ever.

Brady throws a touchdown on the next play. Of course. Ravens linebacker Bart Scott flips out, gets an unsportsmanlike conduct penalty (15 yards), then throws the ref's flag into the stands (where presumably it was eaten by fans, then vomited onto the ref's head) and gets another UC call (for another 15 yards). An offsides call during the extra point attempt puts the kickoff at the Ravens 35-yard line (it would normally be at the Patriots' 25). So there's no kickoff return, which is sad because with 44 seconds left and decent field position, they could have had the tying field goal.

In desperation, Ravens QB Kyle Boller throws a Hail Mary pass into the 40-mph wind. It's freaking caught (which never happens) by wide receiver Mark Clayton.

At the two-yard line.

With no time left.

......

All year I've been rooting for the New England Patriots, even though they've become the Yankees of the NFL (I've been a Pats fan since way back when they were the underdogs). I've laughed as other teams have fallen in the path of Kornheiser's "tragic inevitability," laughed as other teams' fans have shaken their fists at the sky, screaming, "BRADYYYYY!" in impotent rage. Now I know how it feels to be squashed by the juggernaut.

Oh well. At least the Ravens didn't embarrass themselves on Monday Night Football again, and they have to feel optimistic about hosting the hated Colts next weekend.

And once again next Sunday, I'll root for the Patriots and laugh long and hard as Steelers fans raise their fists to the sky and scream, "BRADYYYYYY!"

Labels: football

• posted by Jeri @ 1:26 AM
• 0 comments

Done

I just finished and turned in the first draft of The Reawakened. There's no way to describe the complicated mixture of triumph and sorrow and relief I feel. Let's call it triliefow.

The triliefow-ness (triliefow-icity?) is more intense with this book than any before, partly because it's the end of a series, and partly because it was the longest novel I've ever written, coming in around 142K words. If you add in all the crap I cut when I revised two of the storylines, I ended up writing 200K. They don't call it epic fantasy for nuthin'.

But the work on TR has just begun. I will likely tear out at least half of what I've written, rearrange the rest, and add on another 50K words or so. My friend and awesome novelist Maria V. Snyder likens the process of writing a book to building a house, where a first draft involves building the frame and the walls, and the revisions are the remodeling and decorating.

If that's the case, I'd be the most expensive homebuilder in the business. I'd be the one ripping down walls, digging up foundations, and maybe even relocating the house to a different neighborhood.

But everyone's process is different. I might write a first draft twice as fast as Maria, but mine are probably twice ten times as embarrassing. (Every first draft is embarrassing; let's not kid ourselves.) Most of my time and effort goes into the rewriting stage--I'll probably spend two months' worth of ten-hour days rewriting The Reawakened, if I'm lucky enough to get that much time.

Or maybe lightning struck this time, and I nailed the basic story and characters on the first try, and the revisions will be about remodeling and redecorating--deepening themes, beautifying the prose, smoothing the rough transitions.

Yeah, right.

But that's all later, in January and February, after I hear from my editor and beta readers and have a chance to put a fresh eye on it myself.

First, I'm taking the weekend off, for the first time since, hmm, July. I'm going to do anything I want.

Tomorrow I shall start the brain-douching process with the entire series of Warren Ellis's Transmetropolitan, the tenth and final volume of which I never read, because I wanted to reread Vols. 1-9 leading up to it.

Monday morning I'll start writing Bad to the Bone. Monday evening during the slaughterfest biggest upset in NFL history I'll begin the million little business things I've neglected over the last six weeks.

But right now I'm not even going to think about that. I'm just going to sit here and admire those two little words:




Oooh. Pretty.

Labels: craft, football, reading, The Reawakened, vampire series

• posted by Jeri @ 8:36 PM
• 2 comments

Vick to plead guilty to first-degree scumbaggery

Atlanta Falcons (soon-to-be-ex-) quarterback Michael Vick will plead guilty to charges connected with illegal dogfighting.

In more cheerful news, unwanted Vick jerseys are being put to good use at the Atlanta Humane Society. Somehow the thought of his name and number being repeatedly soaked in dog urine just warms the cockles of my heart.

I hope that in prison, they serve him the best food Alpo has to offer.

Labels: football, pets

• posted by Jeri @ 4:21 PM
• 2 comments

Purple pain perspective

Well, that was disappointing, not only for Ravens fans but for football watchers across the country who were looking forward to a colossal clash of titans. Or football watchers who like to see, you know, touchdowns.

It wasn't so much Spiderman vs. Superboy as it was Mr. Furious vs. The Shoveller (the Shoveller won).

A lot of people (especially Yankee fans) believe that a team's regular season success is rendered meaningless by a poor playoff performance. Maybe that's true if you start the season with high expectations. But no one picked the Ravens to have a winning season, much less win a team-record 13 games and the AFC North division. No one expected them to crush the Super Bowl Champions twice and neutralize star running backs like Larry Johnson or MVP LaDainian Tomlinson.

It's been a great year, largely thanks to quarterback Steve McNair, who made three last-minute comebacks to win games, and coach Brian Billick, who took over calling offensive plays mid-season. Without McNair and Billick the Ravens wouldn't have gotten anywhere near the playoffs, much less capture a team-high second seed.

They couldn't pull it off against the Colts. But for seventeen weeks we looked forward to Sundays. Not every team's fans can say that. Heck, we couldn't say that last year (though some of us stuck with them every minute of that godawful season). For seventeen weeks we had fun, and even the most dismal playoff loss can't take that experience away from us.

Yeah, I might be in denial. The numbness feels nice.

Labels: football

• posted by Jeri @ 5:01 PM
• 2 comments

A date with destiny

I want nothing good to happen to that team. Ever.
--writer/director Barry Levinson, on the Indianapolis Colts

Do you know what it's like to hate,
when it's way down deep inside?
--"Promise," Violent Femmes

Remember that bastard/bitch who broke your heart in high school or college, and how happy you were to find out at your class reunion that they'd grown up fat and unemployed?

That's how we in Baltimore feel about the Indianapolis Colts. Year after year we watch them play splendid seasons, led by the ever-lovable, sitcom-bound Peyton Manning, only to falter in the playoffs. Even when they lost to our archrival Pittsburgh Steelers last year, we rejoiced, for it meant the Colts yet labored under the manifestation of divine justice known as the Mayflower Curse.*

Today the sword of karmic retribution will be wielded by none other than our own Baltimore Ravens. The Ravens are the hunky, successful Mr. Right we grew up to marry, bringing home a Super Bowl championship only five years after they swept us off our feet. But it still hurts to be ditched, even by a loser.

Today the league's best offense fights the #1 defense. It's like one of those theoretical superhero matchups.**

It's the most important game in the history of Ever.

And now, because it'll feel good, I give a nod to Alfred Hitchcock and profuse thanks to an anonymous PhotoShopper, in presenting (WARNING--graphic graphic):

THE BIRDS, PART II

starring Peyton Manning in the role immortalized by Tippi Hedrin.

Bring on the Purple Pain.

*My own term, named after the van lines they used to cut out of town before dawn on March 28, 1984.

**Spiderman vs. Superboy seems most appropriate.

Labels: football

• posted by Jeri @ 11:48 AM
• 0 comments

Ravens Recap

Ravens 35, Saints 22
Ravens 26, Bengals 20
Ravens 27, Titans 26
Ravens 24, Falcons 10
Ravens 27, Steelers 0

Yeah, I think Brian Billick taking over as offensive coordinator might have been a good move.

Labels: football

• posted by Jeri @ 2:29 PM
• 3 comments

The Saints Are Coming video

This is my first posted YouTube video, so I hope it comes out OK.

U2 and Green Day first performed their version of this song at the New Orleans Saints' "homecoming" game at the Louisiana Superdome.

The proceeds from the song (which is a rewrite of a 1978 punk anthem by the Skids*) will go to a charity called Music Rising, which helps replace musical instruments lost in Hurricane Katrina. Since music is the lifeblood of NOLA, what this charity is doing is nothing short of soul retrieval.

The video is brilliant, but I can't help wondering if some dense folks will walk away from it thinking the U.S. Government really did divert troops from Iraq to help Katrina victims. ("Dude, it's true! I saw it on that Green Day video, there were like fighter jets 'n' everything!")

*The lead singer of the Skids, Stuart Adamson, went on to form Big Country in the 80s. "The Storm," off Big Country's debut album The Crossing, still ranks as my #1 Song to Drive Through a Car Wash To.

Labels: football, music

• posted by Jeri @ 7:45 AM
• 2 comments