Instant Hippo Thoughts – Week 1, 2025 Season

Some of these may or may not be half-assed.  I am mad about ESPN cocking up RedZone Channel – it wasn’t egregioUs yesterday, but I am expecting enshitification to gradually increase.  Because everything has to suck, apparently.  The Darkest Timeline allots no quarter.

Speaking of shit, whenever one thinks they’ve seen Maximum #ThePauls, they raise their Pauling to another level.  Week 1 Cincinnati was terrible, as is their way.  Aided by a deflected pickerception, Burrow and his men struggled to a whopping 17 points.  Cleveland?  Well, they also got 2 TDs and a FG.  But, of course, they missed the last extra point.  And then the fucker missed the would be winning, chip shot FG.  Then, inside of 2:00, the WR dropped an easy catch (in the vicinity of midfield) right into the Bengals’ arms.  17-16, it would finish.  What a stinker.

Fuck the lucky-ass 2025 Yinzburgh Stillers, who won, 34-32, on a 60-yard FG .  I will speak no MOAR of this puppy abortion, nor (hopefully, if I have the discipline) of this despicable team.

Penix Power was seemingly  juuuuusssssttttt enough to get Sherman’s Ashes over the line.  Multiple replay reviews, offsetting penalties, desperate lunges for the first down marker (at the 1) and then the goal line.  But he just inched it in (PHRASING) and they led MRSA Men 20-17.  Then, they had multiple opportunities to turn Mayfield over and end things.  Aslas, Baker hit his best throw of the day, a 2nd TD for Emeka Egbuka.

Only 23-20, though, as McLaughlin Group (WRONG!) doinked the extra point.  Earlier in the game, Younghoe also hit the post, but his placement (FG) went in anyway.  Fine margins, yada yada.  No fine margins despite bad defensing from Tampa, as Koo missed a 44-yarder at the gun, wide right by about 100 feet.  WOMP WOMP.

Dan Quinn was well-ahead in his execution of the Five Year Plan…and still is.  Through Week 1 anyway, as they easily dispatched Charmslinger and his new, Vertically Enhanced Person pals.  21-6, and it never really felt in doubt.

Now, a couple of Very Sad Performances – Miami was a complete no-show in the Gravy Boat.  Fat Humps win 33-8, scoring on all seven (non-kneeldown) possessions.  LOLfins got their octopus on 4th and goal, deep into garbage time.  Mike McDaniel is getting the sack, only a matter of when that axe comes down. I was doctrinnaire in avaoling all Indy players in fantasy, because I am that calibre of moe-ron.  Dimebag was perfectly adequate.  That’s his ceiling, but STILL.

Black Panthers management hoped Wee Bryce found something down the stretch, but he laid a rancid turd in Duuuuuvvvvvaaaaalllllll.  Prison Girlfriend was mediocre, but that was easily enough.  The game was otherwise only notable for the dumb weather delay.  I hope that doesn’t become a trend, but fear that it will (recall we also had one Thursday night).  A defensive holding wiped out a comedic GOLD pick-6 for the Jags, otherwise the score would have been way more shameful than the 26-10 (after much garbage time) that we got.

Two road wins, with exact replica scorelines of 20-13.  Arizona beats N’Awlins, Vegas beats the P*ts.  The latter was MOAR of a surprise, but the Raiders really dominated beyond what the scoreboard indicated.  The only decent quarter backing in these tilts?  Geno Smith.  Huh.  I ain’t see that coming.

On to the late fixtures we trudge.  A civilized 4-pack, as preferred (especially with me keeping an eye on the Donks WOO!!! full).

Not that I enjoyed what I kept my eye on, mind.  Both offenses were disaster pieces, and Nix was back to treating the ball like a loaf of bread and/or hot potato.  Fortunately, (i) Brian Callahan REALLY screwed up the last minute/end of half sequence; and (ii) BLEERGH.  Other than that, we rode our DL and one measley drive where we committed to running the damned ball.  20-12, but this was on the precipice of danger the whole way.  DonT’s Tits might be friskier than expected.

Might the Fuck Lions now be a bit shit?  It’s WAY too early to say that, but the performance in Wiscy was certainly limp-dickety.  Like several early games, Q4 was all garbage time, taking 24-6 into the 27-13 final.

I predicted PAIN! for the Tomsulas this season, and their placement man sure wants me to be right about that.  Purdy Mouth was actually on top form (in the first half), but needs some help.  He started to press, and made a key, horrid pickerception after they finally made a chip shot to tie the game at 10 (took THREE tries to get a make).

But it wasn’t in the barn.  4th and a foot, SeaTruthers settle for the FG, then White Lightning (ie, Ricky Pearsall struck).  Still, it looked for all the world like a turnover, or at least a 4th and goal dilemma for Santa Clara, as Purdy chucked the ball up for grabs.  The defender had a bead on it, but at the last millisecond, Toonces the Driving Cat (apparently the Tomsulas’ TE2) ripped it away.  17-13.

But it STILL wasn’t in the barn, as Touch of Downs hit an immediate deep shot, now inside the 20 with less than a minute and a timeout left.  Santa Clara’s spicy meatball bull rushed the RT into Darnold’s arm, forcing the decisive fumble.  No Special Young Man grip strength, sadly.  17-13, a fluke win to trump all fluke wins.

I noticed very little of 500s at RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAM IT!! – which is too bad, it was a hard-nosed defensive struggle, that went down to the wire.  Houston also fumbled while driving for the go-ahead score, and Fatty Stafford found Puka to convert the 3rd down and go into victory formation.  14-9, L.A.’s finest.

That really seems like enough, doesn’t it?  But we still have Bills Mafia and the Ratbirds to come, in a likely AFC Title game preview.  Fuck, let’s caffeinate.  Bills Magia ran out to an early 7-nil lead, then…uh…Time FOAR Tractorcito.  But the Ratbird defense played too soft of prevent, and Brokeback got a FG at the HT gun, to keep them within striking distance at 20-13.  Seems like that will come back to haunt them?  But I’mma watch 2nd half from bed, and we can see how the predicion/harbinger of doom holds up.