I Find Your Lack of Faith Disturbing


Over at espn.com, AFC North blogger James Walker asks if anyone remembers the offseason?

Unfortunately for you James, I do. Props for having some faith, but let’s not pretend you were the only pundit (and not even the only one at espn) to peg the Bengals as a surprise team.

Still, those were some funny comments.

Meanwhile, over at SI.com, former Steeler Jerome Bettis has been up and down on the Bengals so much this year he ought to change his nickname to “The Elevator.” This week, The Elevator is going up.

"After 10 years playing in their division as a Steeler, I’ll say this: I barely recognize these Bengals. I am so use to seeing the Bungles — the guys who, in the last quarter of games, always found a way to lose. In the locker room and on the field, no matter what situation we were in, we always knew they’d find a way to blow it. We almost didn’t worry about them; we knew they’d hand us the game no matter how well they played for the first three quarters. Most of those years we just laughed about the Bengals. Put pressure on them and they’ll fall apart, we said."

Hard words. But also exactly what long-time fans always suspected. Playing the Bengals was more a game of playing yourself — just don’t screw up, because Cincinnati will — than it was of playing the guys in stripes. And that’s precisely why we get crap like this.

Fortunately, I respect The Elevator’s opinion (even with all its variations) more than Robinson’s hackneyed recitation of three-year-old crapola and missing-the-forest-for-the-trees “logic” (really, how many Q4 comebacks have they had? you don’t see mental toughness?). Hey Chuck, break a leg. Seriously. Compound fracture. And be sure to send me pictures to post.

But still, the doubters abound. “Smokin’ Crack Joe” Theismann doesn’t believe. Neither does Football Outsiders.

Screw ’em. And screw the bandwagon pundits, too (yeah, I’m talking to you, Pete Prisco and Clark Judge). Do all us Bengals fans a favor and go back to hanging on Brady’s jock, swapping spit with Favre and running your hands lovingly through Troy’s Head-and-Shouldered locks. Wading through your stuff about Cincinnati is wasting my time. And in Cincinnati, there’s still work to be done.