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From the Sports Desk: Heart attacks and football

October 30, 2009

by Kevin Sims

I sometimes feel I watch football because I’m a thrill seeker, who is too lazy to get off the couch during the weekends.

Both Tech and the Saints almost stopped my heart. Both games sent me through a similar roller coaster ride of emotions capped off by exciting comebacks, just Tech fell a little short.

As I sat in my bed screaming at my laptop during Phillip Livas’ 95-yard kickoff return, I thought Tech was going to get its first road victory. By the fourth quarter with Tech down 23-7, I was yelling everything from bench quarterback Ross Jenkins to fire head coach Derek Dooley.

While I was debating about turning off the computer to find something less soul shattering, the offense started clicking.
Jenkins connected with receiver R.P. Stuart on a 26-yard touchdown pass and followed it with a 20-yard TD pass to tight end Dennis Morris.

While standing in my bed, I was pretty sure I confessed my undying love for both Jenkins and Dooley.

With the game 23-20 and Tech driving, I was on the verge on insanity.

It was fourth down with three yards to go and Jenkins dropped back to pass. Adrian Linwood was wide open, but Jenkins overthrew him by a good 10 yards. Tech lost.

I was speechless and ready to give up football altogether, but the Saints were undefeated, and the weekly tradition had to march on.

The weekly tradition consists of five friends yelling at a TV and cracking jokes while watching the Saints. We started the tradition on the season opener, and since the Saints were still undefeated, no one was willing to not show up on pain of death and outsiders were unwelcome. I still don’t think my girlfriend understands.

To hide the identities of the not so innocence of the members of the group, I’ll refer to them as Boondock Saint, House, Chuck and Pockets.

The first quarter gave us Drew Brees sacks, cussing fits and too many comments on the stupid gimmick Wildcat formation.

After Ronnie Brown scored a touchdown to give the Dolphins a 24-3 lead, suicidal thoughts took over. When John Carney missed a 46-yard field goal wide left, Pockets hid all sharp objects.

The Saints started gaining momentum right before the half when a fumble gave the Saints the ball at midfield. Eight plays later, Brees dove up the middle for a touchdown. New life breathed into the group.

With how down the first half made us feel, I was surprised the cops didn’t come over with the shouts of joy coming from the house during the third quarter.

It started with Darren Sharper’s interception return for a touchdown, and Chuck trying to dislocate my hand from my body with a high five.

When Brees connected with receiver Marques Colston for a touchdown to cut the lead to three, Boondock gave a double yell for the Saints and his fantasy team.

Ricky Williams found a way to stab Saints fans in the heart on a four-yard touchdown run. Since it was in the stupid Wildcat, we had to listen to the announcers talk about how great the formation was, but House stemmed the pain by drowning out the words with an eloquent stream of profanities only he can do.

An awkward moment happened in the fourth as Reggie Bush did a Michael Jordan-esque leap five yards into the end zone. We all jumped out of our seats, but stood like statues for three minutes while waiting for the official to review the play. When the verdict was told, the celebration began. Still nursing a swollen hand, Chuck and I opted for a celebratory man-hug.

With the Saints holding the lead, things went back to normal. A couple touchdowns and a field goal by the Saints left no doubt on who was the better team.

I survived another game, although I was emotionally and physically drained. One thing remains: I love football.

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