Fear the Birds

Don't be alarmed, but the end of the world is upon us. I believe it is written in the Book of Revelation that birds of fire shall rise out of the desert ashes and usher forth the apocalypse and the end of days. There is more in there about frogs raining from the sky and swarms of locusts, but you get the picture.

I'm sitting here this morning trying to wrap my mind around the fact that we live in a world where the Arizona Cardinals are hosting the NFC championship game. THE ARIZONA CARDINALS!! That is the most idiotic, asinine, ludicrous statement one could ever think of uttering .... yet it's true!! How could this be? If there are three truths in the world they are death, taxes and the Cardinals will always suck. And I mean always suck. As in, before this winter they had not hosted a playoff game since Harry Truman was president. Look it up! They are usually so bad that their most ardent fans enter each Sunday with the same thought ... "Boy I hope we don't get our @#$# kicked today."

Back in my former life I spent countless Sunday afternoons sitting in the press box high atop Sun Devil Stadium in Tempe. Looming below me were seemingly miles of empty metal bleachers. The Cardinals would take the field armed with smoke machines and about 12 family members delivering half-hearted applause while sweltering in 110-degree heat. They played in a college stadium, dressed in a make-shift locker room about the size of a walk-in closet, and they were awful.

I have to admit, I didn't attend those games to watch the Cardinals. I went for the chance to interview the visiting players after the game. To sit in on interviews with Tom Brady, Brett Favre, Mike Shanahan and Bill Parcells. A funny thing happened, however, after watching these atrociously-bad Cardinals week after week. I actually started rooting for them. Yes, it was a lost cause. But they just tried so dang hard. They had a hootin' and hollarin' coach straight out of Texas in Dave McGinnis. He would pace around the locker room like a madman and deliver a "Let's go get em' boys!!" in a thick cowboy drawl. You couldn't help but love him. He was passion personified. Unfortunately he was a horrible head coach personified as well. The Cardinals and their fans loved their beloved coach, but that didn't stop the freak show on the field.

I actually got excited when they hired Dennis Green. They proceeded to draft players like Larry Fitzgerald, and Karlos Dansby, while bringing in free agents like Bertrand Berry. A couple of years ago you looked up and down the roster and you realized, "Holy monkey, we actually have some talent!!"

But alas, these were the Cardinals. The 4-12 seasons continued to mount. This past fall I finally cut ties with my lovable losers. I simply gave up on them. So naturally they pulled off the biggest upset special since Mr. Truman himself. (If your wondering why I keep referencing "The Buck Stops Here" president, I happened to watch a wonderful documentary on him last week on PBS. So there you go.)

They somehow shook off an all-too-familiar shellacking at New England during the final month of the season to not only reach the playoffs, but actually win a game at home against the Atlanta Falcons in the opening round. Like all Cardinals fans, I tuned in last Saturday night to watch the inevitable butt-whooping in Carolina.

It was a butt-whooping all right. But not the kind we're used to. I sat in stunned silence as the Cardinals proceeded to make Jake Delhomme look like a redshirt freshman making his first start against Florida. The Cardinals laid down the hammer like they've never done in the history of their franchise. It was indescribable.

And now they're hosting the Philadelphia Eagles in the NFC championship game. The winner will play in the Super Bowl. The honest-to-god Super Bowl! I've got to go now. My bomb shelter awaits.

I can't figure it out either, kiddies!

- Dave