GELFAND: Jockocracy and Week Four Picks

It's been almost 50 years since Howard Cosell put Monday Night Football on the map with his arrogance, moral rectitude, and an especially offensive habit of almost always being right.

The best thing about Cosell was the glee he took in biting the hand that fed him. It's hard not to think wistfully about Howard these days when I listen to what he called the "jockocracy" -- the former players who defile the airwaves with banality and sycophancy. You know what you're dealing with in the first minute of any football game, because that's how long it takes guys like Cris Collinsworth to reference The National Football League. Now there's a guy who got the memo. Pound that brand. No "NFL" for him.

On Thursday night, two players were strapped to stretchers and basically mummified after brutal collisions. The blow to Green Bay's Jamaal Williams was an intentional helmet shot well after the play was over and later on Philadelphia's Avonte Maddox got the same treatment after he suffered a helmet-to-helmet collision with a teammate. In both instances, announcer Joe Buck assured viewers that the players were, in some unspecified way, moving. There was no visual evidence to back that up, but apparently comatose gladiators are bad optics.

[caption id=attachment_56070" align="aligncenter" width="800] (mandatory credit: Jeff Hanisch, USA Today Sports)[/caption]

I'm pretty sure that if Cosell were alive and broadcasting today, he'd be talking about the terrible consequences of playing football, just as he talked about the idiocy of boxing when he was doing commentary on big fights.

But Howard is long gone and, in his place on Monday nights, we are subjected to the non-stop drivel of jockocrat Booger McFarland. Howard's autobiography was called "I Never Played the Game."

Sadly, Booger played the game. And if you are fortunate not to have heard him, you should know that Booger McFarland is to football commentary what kale is to pizza. He simultaneously adds substance while denuding the possibility of any pleasure.

What Boog fails to understand is that a very tiny amount of his expertise is palatable, because the vast majority of a football game consists of very large men grunting and swearing and sweating and fecklessly rubbing against each other for reasons we need not know.

Let us now consider a typical NFL game. We're talking about, say, 118 official plays from scrimmage, 10 kickoffs, seven punts, and 12 penalties. Now, a highly-paid professional -- let's say Al Michaels -- would use much  of that time to chat amiably with the butt-kissing Collinsworth, tell some funny stories, allude to whether the game was going under or over, and then toss to a sideline "reporter" who will reveal the clichés uttered by Bill Belichick at halftime.

Boog, on the other hand, would use all 147 occasions to tell us exactly what happened and how it happened.

Admittedly, he is sometimes entertaining. Booger reached his peak last year when he observed that real men pee in their football jerseys. Only a wuss, he insisted, takes the time to run to the locker room in search of a proper urinal. TMI? I think not.

And McFarland was in rare form this week when, with 13 minutes left in Monday's game, he declared that the contest had been decided. While the Redskins, down by 16, might have been too awful to come back against the Bears, teams have been known to score two touchdowns and make a couple of two-point conversions in far less than 13 minutes. Beyond that, the point spread -- Chicago by 5 -- definitely hung in the balance. But Booger and his frenetic partner, Joe Tessitore, would never go there.

Here, however, I give the guy credit for courage if not for wisdom. It's the rare announcer who is willing to basically tell viewers, "You can turn me off now. Nothing to see."

What puzzles me most is that these two dolts apparently believe that their audience consists of purists who are in search of a tutorial on the fine points of the sport. No way.  We know it's an awful sport that has no place in a civilized society. And, as a gambler, I would add that I am greatly relieved that this is not a civilized society.

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Last week, I mythically bet the Denver-Green Bay under and pushed; and, once again, bet against Miami and won. However, I am now moving on past the Dolphins in the belief that the line catches up even with teams that are historically awful. The bankroll now stands at $1,122. The two-bet system seems to be working for me, so I'm going with the following dubious pair this week.

Kansas City at Detroit

The Lions were uninspiring but somehow achieved a 27-24 upset in Philly last week. This despite just 16 first downs and 287 yards from scrimmage. Old Man Stafford isn't going to match passing yardage with Mahomes, and the Lions are averaging just 3.4 yards per carry. They are also just 6-10 vs. the spread as a home dog since 2015.  KC is 8-2-1 against the spread on the road lately, so I'll spend a little mythical cash on the Chiefs and sweat out the prospect of a back-door cover.

The pick: Chiefs 34, Lions 20 Kansas City -- minus 6 1/2 for $50

Jacksonville at Denver

Stat line of the year: vs. the Titans last week, Leonard Fournette carried the ball 15 times for 66 yards. No biggie. But his longest run was for 69 yards. Meaning that on the other 14 carries, he averaged minus 2 feet. Gardner Minshew looked like the game manager the Jags have been craving, but I suspect a bounce factor in the swirling Denver gales.  Denver has now gone under in eight straight home games, and the forecast is for 20 mph winds at game time.

The pick: Jacksonville 20, Denver 13 -- Under 38 for $40