I realize I'm late to the party (as usual) with this one, and I'm jumping on the pile Seau-style to boot. But I couldn't let Peter King's warped list of the dozen best quarterbacks in history slip by without comment.

King is upfront about the motivation for mentioning his rankings in his always (and sometimes unintentionally) entertaining "Monday Morning Quarterback" column on SI.com this week; he's pushing a book. Fair enough -- it was a tried-and-true way to generate buzz, and it worked. He lured suckers like me into writing about it..

But I'm not sure he's aware of the fallout from doing so. Every single time King, who recently moved to Boston, tries to order his morning Triple Mocha Venti Whatever at Starbucks in peace, he's going to hear it from the proverbial (hat tip, Kissing Suzy Kolber) Tommy from Quincy:

"HEY, PETAH KING!!! YEAH, YOU THERE, WITH THE CHOCO-COCONUT SCONE!!! HOW COULD YA HAVE TOMMY BRADY 10th?!?!? HE'S TOMMY THREE RINGS!!! THE BEST EVAH!!!"

Actually after reading his list, I might do that myself should the opportunity present itself, though it's unlikely since I'm a Dunkin's junkie. Anyway . . .

King's dozen: 1. Otto Graham. 2. Sammy Baugh 3. Joe Montana 4. Johnny Unitas 5. Brett Favre 6. Peyton Manning 7. John Elway 8. Dan Marino 9. Roger Staubach 10. Tom Brady 11. Bart Starr 12. Terry Bradshaw

Don't know about you, but I've got a lotta, lotta problems with that. A few: Too much love for the geezers in the 1-2 spots, both of whom piled up their numbers in a smaller league against smaller foes . . . Favre, who is apparently in King's good graces again, is about 20 spots too high. He's the absolute last quarterback on this list I'd want leading my team in a meaningful game . . . There's no way any member of the Manning family, even Peyton, belongs four spots ahead of Brady . . . Too much love for Bradshaw, who completed just under 52 percent of his passes and finished his career with just two more TD passes than interceptions.

Because it's bad form to bust on someone else's subjective choices without providing your own opinion, here is my completely subjective, mildly informed, not-pushin'-a-book-just-havin'-fun list of the dozen greatest quarterbacks in football history:

1. John Elway. Sure, until T.D. came along, he couldn't win a ring. Name me one quarterback who could have accomplished as much as Elway did with forgettable players named Sammy Winder, Ricky Nattiel, Vance Johnson, Gerald Willhite, and so on. The most complete package of mobility, accuracy, arm strength and big-moment leadership ever to take a snap.

2. Joe Montana. Not the most imposing quarterback physically, but he was brilliant, bloodless, relentlessly accurate, and always kept his cool in the spotlight. The game looked slower, more under control, when the ball was in his hand. Sound like someone else we know?

3. Tom Brady. I'm assuming I don't need to tell you guys why. (At least those of you who weren't yowling, "THEY TRADED THE WRONG QUAHTAHBACK!?" at 4.pm. Sunday.) By the way, doesn't it have to be more than coincidence that he was in the stands the day Dwight Clark made "the catch" and Montana rocketed to stardom? It's similar to Derek Jeter being at Yankee Stadium the day Lou Gehrig made his "Luckiest Man" speech. (Wait? What? He wasn't there? You say he wasn't even born until 35 years later? But . . . but . . . but why would Michael Kay make that up?)

4. Dan Marino. Simply the finest pure pocket passer ever to play the game. No one ever had a quicker release or a better feel for the rush, and I bet he can still throw the 20-yard out better than half the starting QBs in the league.

5. Johnny Unitas. It's often said that John Wayne swiped his persona from Ted Williams. But there's a little bit of Johnny U. in the act as well.

(Deep breath.)

(Exhale)

Repeat after me.

It's all going to be OK. Tom Brady will recalibrate his arm, spray on some Rust-Oleum instead of Stetson, and rediscover that trademark accuracy and poise in the pocket. Welkah! will return as the indispensable safety valve, Bill O'Brien will remember that Kevin Faulk is on the roster, and the running game will find its footing.

Again: It's all going to be OK. The Patriots are good enough, they're smart enough, and people like them.

All right, so maybe Stuart Smalley is a tired reference, and maybe that last part of that mantra isn't quite true when it comes to the Patriots. Rightfully or not, the Patriots are regarded as villains outside of this six-state region -- actually, make that 5 1/2 states, since Connecticut trends green and white as much as it does red, white, and blue.

There were plenty around the NFL yesterday who were nothing less than giddy to see arrogant Bill Belichick lose to that grinning, blustery media-charmer, Rex Ryan. I can't confirm this, but when the final seconds ticked off the clock, I'm pretty sure Charlie Casserly's toupee moved on its own out of sheer delight.

Let them have their fun now, because yesterday's mess at the Meadowlands does nothing to damage the greater point: Barring something unforeseen, the Patriots are and will be a very good football team this season. Due to circumstances mostly within their control and entirely correctable, they just didn't happen to play like one yesterday.

While I heard from more than my share of angry and irrational Patriots fans yesterday -- no, Matt Cassel is not a superior quarterback, no, Brady is not playing scared, no, Giselle is not a curse, and yes, you're tempting me to break out the phrase '"lowest common denominator" again -- I realize stomping to the nearest proverbial bridge and threatening to jump if Laurence Maroney isn't immediately banished to the Canadian Football League is how some deal with the frustration of defeat. It's a common reaction -- even if it makes them look like spoiled, entitled front-runners.

I'd like to think -- make that I do think -- that the vast majority of Patriots fans are clear-headed and reasonable about yesterday's loss. They understand that the defense played fairly well in its first week of the six to eight it must face without its centerpiece, Jerod Mayo. They realize Pete Carroll's surprisingly self-serving suggestion that Mark Sanchez should have stayed at Southern Cal suggests the cheery coach still can't be trusted to make NFL personnel evaluations. They understand that this game meant an immense amount to the Jets, who have a longstanding of habit of collecting their biggest wins in September.

Most importantly, they understand that Tom Brady's frustrating Bledsoe-at-his-worst performance -- throwing off his back foot, not feeling the blindside rush yet inexplicably hurrying when the coast was clear, missing open receivers by a margin just small enough to make you audibly and crudely lament the lost opportunity -- was exactly what should be expected of a quarterback who missed essentially a full year of vicious Sunday afternoon action.

In retrospect, what he accomplished last week in the final five minutes against the Bills was not confirmation that he had returned to full health. It was a well-timed display of will, poise, preparation, and ability. It was both a flashback and a promise of things to come -- but the catch is that there was no guaranteed time-frame on that promise.

Quick programming note: I'll be joining Chris Forsberg and perhaps a couple of the other usual suspects for a live blog/chat during the Patriots-Jets showdown this afternoon. We had a lot fun with these last year and received a lot of positive feedback, so be sure to check in right around kickoff.

As for the game . . . to be honest, I'm not quite sure what to make of it. Conventional wisdom, at least among the Peter Kings of the world, is that the Jets, who are determined to justify their glib, over-the-top cockiness, will give the Patriots a tough time tomorrow.

There's plenty of evidence through the years that conventional wisdom and common sense don't always intersect when it comes to the prognostication skills of supposed NFL pundits, but I can't shake the feeling that the pro-Jets crowd might be onto something with this one.

I just haven't been able to convince myself that this is the best matchup for the Patriots' offense so early in the season -- and so early in Brady's return from his knee injury. The Jets' defense is designed to be a duplicate of the decorated group Rex Ryan coached in Baltimore -- quick, fierce, aggressive -- and the Patriots' offensive line played too much of Monday night's opener against the Bills in reverse.

The Jets have yapped this week that they will get their shots in on Brady, and despite my best efforts at rationalization, I believe them. I'd like to think the Patriots have a shrewd plan to turn the Jets' frenzied, trash-Tweeting approach against them -- a dose of Faulk, heaping helping of Welker? -- but the Patriots will have to be much more polished and efficient than they were in first 55 or so minutes Monday night.

Defensively, it's not about who's playing, but who isn't. Jerod Mayo, the bright and gifted second-year linebacker who's already the captain and centerpiece of this remodeled group, is out for a month, maybe two, with a knee injury. Adalius Thomas and Gary Guyton should be capable of handling the chores in the middle of the field, but neither is as adept at or as deeply prepared for the role as Mayo. Given that the Jets feature one of the most dangerous third-down backs in the league in pesky Leon Washington, this might not be the best week to be without the anchor of your defense.

Are we ready for some football?

Are you kidding, Hank?

Did Jay Cutler cry himself to sleep listening to his favorite "30 Seconds to Mars" song last night?

Will three quality quarters from Mark Sanchez lead Jets fans to recalibrate their expectations to comically unachievable heights?

Is Jake Delhomme playing like the stiff who was once looking up at a pair of Billy Joes (Tolliver and Hobart) as well as Danny Wuerffel from the bottom of the Saints' depth chart?

Of course we're ready for some football, and while we got an early fix yesterday, the new season is not official around here until the Patriots have taken the field.

(That they're doing it in old-school style -- it's always a nice flashback when Pat Patriot is involved in the festivities -- only adds to the anticipatory fun.)

With a few hours to go until kickoff, let's further feed our football jones with some scattered thoughts on the Patriots . . .

The Patriots' best rookie will be . . . Well, until Richard Seymour was traded, my hunch was that it would be UConn product Darius Butler, who has speed to burn and already seems more polished than the two cornerbacks the Patriots drafted last year, Terrence Wheatley and Jonathan Wilhite. But Seymour's departure makes me wonder whether someone -- Ron Brace? Myron Pryor? -- has the ability to contribute immediately in a much greater capacity than fans and media have recognized. Sure, a huge reason Seymour was moved is because the chance to swap a 29-year-old defensive lineman who most likely was going to depart after the season for a first-round pick from the most dysfunctional franchise in professional sports was an offer Bill Belichick could not convince himself to pass up. But I think there's slightly more to it. Belichick always spots the truth long before we do. Either he thinks Seymour was slipping, or he has high hopes for a player on his roster that we are not yet sure about. My money -- and I think this is the smart money, too -- is on Brace, the Boston College product plucked in the second round in April.

We'll catch ourselves glancing at the right side of the Patriots defensive line from time to time: It's not like Seymour was the second coming of Jim Marshall in terms of durability -- he played 24 of 32 games over the past two seasons. And the Patriots somehow managed to go 16-0 in 2007, when he had just a 1.5 sacks in nine games. So it's not like he was always out there, always dominating, always making his presence known. But when he was at his best, that's exactly what he was: a presence. Stuffing the run and overwhelming his helpless opponent en route to the quarterback, tall No. 93 looming over the proceedings, the finest and most complete defensive lineman the franchise has ever known. Seymour was a player whose arrival with the Patriots as their No. 1 pick in 2001 coincided with the beginning of their improbable dynasty, and in that sense, it will be strange seeing someone else filling his old spot. I guess this is what it takes to get me to pay attention to a Raiders game.

C'mon, Laurence Maroney isn't so bad: Yeah, I'll admit it -- I like him, at least in comparison to the opinions of many Patriots fans, who seem to equate the fourth-year back to some combination of Reggie Dupard (in terms of running style) and Tony Eason (in terms of toughness, or lack thereof). I do understand the frustration with his running style. Too often he approaches the line like the ball carrier in those aggravating vibrating electric football games from the '70s -- he runs into the back of one of his offensive lineman and immediately gets stuck in neutral. But I'm also willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for a couple of reasons. It was a legitimate injury -- a broken shoulder, according to the player himself -- that cost him the 2008 season. Who could fault him for being frustrated that the team's refusal to divulge injuries contributed to the perception that he was something less than tough? Anyone with any pride would be furious. And enough with the suggestion that he's a bust on the level of Chad Jackson. You might expect more from a No. 1 pick, particularly one who was chosen ahead of Joseph Addai and DeAngelo Williams in the first round in 2006. But he's just 24, he ran for 835 yards at 4.5 per pop in 2007 and played great down the stretch that season, running for 122 yards in each of their AFC playoff games. Even his detractors recognize his talent. He might be an enigma so far, but he's not a bust, and I believe he will live up to his ability. Hopefully it will happen with the franchise that once so saw so much promise in him.

The gap in the NFL hierarchy between the New England Patriots and the Oakland Raiders is as vast as the distance between Foxborough and Oakland. So it's tough to fault Richard Seymour's present choice of football purgatory over joining the NFL's literal Black Hole.

But by no means does that suggest the Patriots made the wrong decision by coldly sending him to Oakland for a first-round pick in 2011. I suppose there's a chance that public opinion is correct and the Patriots will dearly miss Seymour this year, much in the way the Deion Branch deal in 2006 might have directly cost the Patriots a shot at a fourth Lombardi Trophy. But history and logic tells me that trading Seymour now will become one more article of evidence for those who believe the "In Bill We Trust" mantra, and we'll all be gloating in two years when Belichick cashes in the winning lottery ticket, courtesy of the delusional and dilapidated Al Davis Empire

Besides, who says liking this trade and being bummed to see Seymour must be mutually exclusive? The man was easily admired as a football player. So many of the Patriots accomplishments since 2001 wouldn't have been possible without his contributions. From afar, he seems like a good and decent man. He is the best lineman in the franchise's 50 years, everything that Ken Sims was supposed to be but wasn't, and all I need to do is pop in from the trio of Super Bowl DVDs to watch Big Sey at his dominating best again.

But I do have to admit, I'm not quite sure what his best is at this point. The stat sheet suggests he had a quality season last year, leading the team with eight sacks. And those who are confident that they recognize the subtleties of the NFL tell me that his main job was to occupy blockers, thus allowing the team's linebackers to enjoy the sunlight and the glory.

I'm not going to grab my stopwatch and put on my whistle and pretend to be of those people. I couldn't confidently tell you if Seymour had a great season, a good season, or a mediocre season a year ago. I recall seeing him make sporadic big plays. I definitely recall him constantly tangling with offensive linemen, sometimes two at a time. But I don't recall noticing him making those wrecking-ball plays of his youth. Maybe that was by Belichick's design. Maybe my memory is on the fritz. Or maybe he's just not that player anymore.

Catching up on the headlines I missed while lumbering around sunny Acadia . . .

In a small sort of way, Nomar Garciaparra owes his huge, heartwarming ovation last night to the man who replaced him in Boston and started at shortstop for the Oakland A's last night.

If Orlando Cabrera had pulled a Lugo upon coming over to the Sox in the shocking three-way deal that sent Nomar to the Cubs at the 2004 trading deadline, Boston fans may be considerably more bitter -- and less forgiving -- than they are nowadays, after a pair of championships.

But Cabrera proved a perfect fit on the 2004 champs, a dependable shortstop with the knack for a clutch hit, and so Nomar's bitter transgressions during that season are more easily forgotten.

That's not to suggest he didn't deserve the "Welcome Back, Nomahhhh!" moment last night. While the five-year gap between his acrimonious departure -- and by the way, it seems to me neither side has yet been completely honest about what went wrong here -- probably helped restore some of the misty watercolors to our memories, the truth is rather simple: If you watched Nomar during his heyday with the Sox, you can't help but have warm memories about his time here.

During the late 1990s -- particularly '99, when the Red Sox reached the ALCS with a roster made up of Pedro, Nomar, and 23 role players and Dan Duquette reclamation projects -- he might have been the most versatile and dangerous hitter in the game. As rookie in '97, he hit 30 home runs, and his hustling style and quirky mannerisms spawned a generation of mimicking Little Leaguers. In 1998, he batted .323 with 35 homers. His entire '99 campaign -- when he batted .357 to win the first of his back-to-back batting titles -- felt like Dustin Pedroia's torrid streak last summer. It seemed as if Nomar concluded every single trip to the plate with a line drive. In 2000, he batted .372, and for a time we thought he might make a run at .400 -- he was batting .403 after the first game of a doubleheader on July 20 -- which only seemed appropriate given that Ted Williams was counted among his admirers.

There's no need to rehash the infamous SI cover, the wrist injury, or how it all went wrong -- plenty of ink and bandwidth has been spent on that the past five years. Nomar Garciaparra was a deserving New England icon for the better part of a decade. Last night, it was nice to see the player and the city acknowledge their mutual appreciation of the good times.

Graceful exits are scarce in professional sports, maybe because it's usually someone else telling you it's time to go. For those whose final act on a football field is to be carted off to a round of bittersweet applause, you'd think it might be particularly agonizing to say goodbye.

Jim Davis/Globe staff photo

Rodney Harrison without fire? Unthinkable. That's like Derek Jeter without calm eyes. Once an athlete's definitive characteristic is diminished, the characteristic that made him superior to the rest, what's the point of playing on? Kudos to Harrison for recognizing that his internal flame was not eternal, that the fire that made him one of the finest (and most fined) safeties of his era was down to a flicker.

So, yes, it was time for him to go, and even those of us who held out hope that he would pass the early weeks of the season on the Junior Seau Taxi Squad while waiting for Bill Belichick's bat signal that it was time to come help the ol' gang again can admit it. Harrison's career is in the past tense as of today, and so our attention turns to his legacy, his place in Patriots lore.

There are countless Patriots of this golden, glorious era who will be remembered fondly, but only a few will become certified legends. Tom Brady is at the head of that class, obviously, and the educated hunch here is that Harrison will also belong in that group. Some might remember Ty Law or Mike Vrabel or Tedy Bruschi or even Richard Seymour as the signature player of the Patriots' championship defenses earlier this decade. Some will say the Patriots didn't have a signature defensive player, that their success was the result of their strength as a whole. But in my mind, and maybe yours too, no other player epitomizes the fierce and smart defenses of the Patriots dynasty like Harrison.

He was as intelligent as he was vicious, making up for his underwhelming speed with a deep knowledge not only of his own defense, but of the opposing offense. He was versatile, becoming the lone player in NFL history to compile more than 30 sacks and 30 interceptions. He was an absolutely carnivorous tackler, cruelly batting around opposing receivers like a cat tormenting a captured mouse just for the sport of it. He was the glue, particularly during the 2004 championship season when the defensive backfield was decimated to the point that wide receiver Troy Brown took a spin at cornerback. He was Exhibit No. 37 of a player you love on your favorite team and absolutely loathe as an opponent. (Kevin Youkilis is also a classic example of that phenomenon.) I suspect Lawrence Taylor still ranks at the top of Belichick's list of his favorite defensive players he has coached, but Harrison has to be a finalist for that coveted runner-up slot.

When you consider Harrison's time here and the literal and figurative impact he made, it's almost easy to forget that he was still a San Diego Charger when the Patriots won their first championship, spending the first nine years of his career there after arriving in the league as a fifth-round draft pick from Western Illinois in 1994. But it feels like he's been one of ours all along. He essentially replaced Lawyer Milloy at safety, though they were teammates in camp in 2003 before the hard-headed Milloy's stunning release for refusing to restructure his contract. Patriots fans adored Milloy, barely noticing even as his production diminished to virtually nothing, and the uproar regarding his departure only grew louder when he signed with the Bills and promptly helped them whup the Patriots in the '03 season opener. But it did not take long -- a week, maybe two, certainly no more than a month, right? -- to realize that Harrison was the superior beast, a legitimate Hall of Fame-caliber, hard-hitting strong safety. He was everything we always wanted Milloy to be.

The man's legendary toughness was no myth, either. The defining moment of a career marked with highlights came last in the Patriots' Super Bowl XXXVIII victory over the Carolina Panthers. Here's how Tedy Bruschi, a dude who knows a little something about toughness himself, remembers it:

"He broke his arm and didn't come off the field, he played the next play, made the tackle on the next play, and then it completely broke," Bruschi said. "He went and got the air cast on and said, 'I'm not staying in here, let me go back out there.' "

In the end, his hell-bent style of play took a toll on his body, and it became harder and harder for him to "go back out there." Over his final four seasons, he played in just 31 games, though four of his game-day absences were because of a suspension for violating the league's substance abuse policy after purchasing human-growth hormone, the great embarrassment of his professional life and one for which he made no excuses and all the requisite apologies.

In a way, the final scene of his career was perfectly appropriate. In Week 7 last season, Harrison tore his right quad while trying to line up a hit on scrambling Denver Broncos quarterback Jay Cutler. No longer as fast or as agile as he was in his prime, he got tangled up on a fake and a juke; in his younger days, you can be sure he would have knocked that emo mop off Cutler's head. Instead, he got carried off on his shield, waving in between winces to the knowing and appreciative Gillette Stadium crowd.

It was his first goodbye. Today brought his last.

And yet I know I'm not the only one who finds himself reminiscing again and again about all the wonderful moments Rodney Harrison provided in the six seasons since he said hello.

As promised and guaranteed, Nos. 11-34 of the greatest moments from this championship era in Boston sports. For items 1-10, click right here:

11. Paul Pierce returning to the court moments after suffering what looked like a serious knee injury, Game 1 of the NBA Finals, June 5, 2008: Pierce is an LA kid -- he grew up in Inglewood -- and his Willis Reed-like return showed he has at least a little bit of Hollywood in him. An added bonus: His rapid return to health infuriated Laker fans.

12. A-Rod slapping the ball from Bronson Arroyo, Game 6 of the ALCS, Oct. 19, 2004 : When the umpires overturned their original safe call, it was one more sign that the Sox' luck had finally changed. As for A-Rod's transparent Who me? act, it was our first clear indication that he was one of sports' preeminent weasels.

13. Papi’s 14th-inning single to win Game 5 of the ALCS, Oct. 17, 2004: Of all the improbable things that happened that postseason, rallying against Rivera in consecutive games must be at the top of the list.

14. Ray Allen juking the Lakers' annoying Sasha Vujacic out of his Vujajock, Game 4 of the NBA Finals, June 12, 2008: Again with the symbolism. Allen's driving layup through the lackadaisical Lakers' defense was the definitive sequence as the Celtics completed a rally from a 24-point hole to take a 3-1 lead in the series. After that, the Lakers were broken, and banner No. 17 was a mere formality.

15. Vinatieri’s 23-yard field goal to win the Snow Bowl, Jan. 7, 2001: Think it was chip shot? You try kicking a field goal in a snow globe.

16. Walt Coleman invokes the Tuck Rule, Jan. 19, 2002: Because without his correct interpretation of a silly and contrived rule, all that came afterward wouldn't have been possible, and Al Davis might still be sane.

17. Papi’s homer in first inning of Game 7 of the ALCS, Oct. 20, 2004: Coming immediately after Johnny Damon was cut down at the plate, it staked the Sox to a 2-0 lead and delivered this message: Not only would they not go quietly, but this time, the Sox had no intention of going at all.

18. Troy Brown’s 55-yard punt return for a touchdown versus the Steelers, AFC Championship game, Jan. 27, 2002: As ol' No. 80 ran the final few steps to toward the end zone, a group of desperate Steelers defenders fell like dominoes behind him. Just a great visual.

19. Papi’s 10th-inning walkoff homer to complete an ALDS sweep of the Angels, Oct. 8, 2004: Still one of my favorite Globe sports headlines of all time: David, Goliath.

20. J.D. Drew's first-inning grand slam off Cleveland co-ace Fausto Carmona, Game 6 of the ALCS, Oct. 20, 2007: Drew may carry himself like baseball is a job rather than a passion, but say this for the man: He has a flair for the dramatic in the postseason.

21. Manny Ramirez's walkoff homer off K-Rod, Game 2 of the ALDS, Oct. 5, 2007: Do me a favor: Let me know when it lands, will you?

22. Manny’s three-run homer off of Oakland ace Barry Zito, Game 5 of the ALDS, Oct. 6, 2003: Funny how those who claim Manny never hit clutch home runs always conveniently forget this moment, when Zito was at the peak of his powers.

23. Brown recovering a blocked field goal and lateraling to Antwan Harris, who took it 45 yards for a touchdown, AFC Championship Game, Jan. 27, 2002: A typically heady play by one of the smartest players to ever wear the Patriots jersey. You and I had no idea the obscure Harris could run like that. Good thing Brown did.

24. Pokey Reese fields Ruben Sierra's grounder and throws to first to record the final out of Game 7 of the ALCS, Oct. 20, 2004: Because it had finally happened -- in the most delicious way possible -- and now we would get the reward: Watching the Red Sox celebrate on the Yankees' turf.

25. Mark Bellhorn’s three-run homer in Game 6 of the ALCS, Oct. 19, 2004: According to our accounting, this is the first time in history a controversial call at Yankees Stadium went the Red Sox' way . . . but it wasn't the only one in this game.

26. Bellhorn’s game-winning homer in Game 1 of the World Series, Oct. 23, 200:Shhh. If you listen closely, you can still hear it rattling off Pesky’s Pole.

27. Vinatieri’s 46-yard winning field goal against the Titans, AFC Divisional playoff, Jan. 10, 2004: When the temperature was almost as cold as the ice water in Vinatieri's veins.

28. Dustin Pedroia’s tone-setting homer off Rockies lefty Jeff Francis in Game 1 of the World Series, Oct. 24, 2007: A few days later, when a security guard didn't recognize Pedroia as he was trying to enter the ballpark, the Sox' rookie second baseman replied in his usual comically brash fashion: "Ask Jeff Francis who I am."

29. Derek Lowe’s crotch chop, Game 5 of the ALDS, Oct. 6, 2003: After whiffing Adam Melhuse and Terrence Long with a pair of the nastiest sinkers he ever threw, after stranding three runners to save the game and the Red Sox' season, only Miguel Tejada could blame the flighty Lowe celebrated a little too, um, graphically. Hey, you'd be excited too if your team had just overcome an 0-2 deficit.

30. Jed Lowrie’s ninth-inning RBI single to win Game 4 and defeat the Angels in the ALDS, Oct. 6, 2008: Wait -- a playoff-series-winning hit is 30th on the list? You betcha. Again: That’s how good we’ve had it, son.

31. Tom Brady hits Troy Brown for to set up winning kick in Super Bowl XXXVI, Feb. 3, 2002: Brady threw for just 145 yards in the game, but twenty-three of them came on perfectly executed crossing route to his favorite target, the biggest gainer of the nine-play, 53-yard drive that set up Vinatieri's winning 3-pointer.

32. Papi’s winning two-run double in Game 4 of the ALDS, Oct. 5, 2003: Coincidentally, Papi’s first huge postseason moment -- which came with two outs in the eighth -- came off future Sox postseason super hero Keith Foulke, then of the A’s.

33. Coco Crisp’s epic 10-pitch at-bat in Game 5 of the 2008 ALCS, Oct. 16, 2008: The Sox were down 7-0 with two outs in the seventh inning. With two outs in the eighth, Crisp had his defining moment with the Sox, singling in the tying run to tie it at 7-7. Couldn't have been happier for him, either.

34. Kevin Garnett’s declaration that ‘‘Anything is possibbuuuulllllll!!!, June 17, 2008: Because, as we’ve learned time and again this decade, it is the absolute truth.

I imagine your initial reaction when you heard about the Matt Cassel deal Saturday was similar to mine:

The 34th pick? Really? That's it? And they get Mike Vrabel too?

Then you promptly drop-kicked whatever inanimate object (or house pet) that happened to be nearby. Wide right, Fluffy.

Okay, so maybe I'm flying solo on that last part. But it did fall somewhere between frustrating and surprising to learn that the Patriots would give up Cassel, who earned a career's worth of admiration after he rescued the 2008 season when few believed he could, and Vrabel, a bright, versatile, and talented defender who in many ways embodied the Patriots' defense during their glorious three-championship run, for nothing more than a solitary pick. And not even one in the first round.

We had sentimental attachment to these players -- sentimental attachment that was usually rewarded by excellent performance -- and it's hard to not wonder why they didn't bring more in return.

I was really hoping for a mid first-round pick (at least) for Cassel, who I believe will be a very good quarterback even without Randy Moss and Wes Welker in his huddle. Why the Lions didn't offer their second first-rounder for him is . . . well, it's why they're the Lions.

And while Vrabel has clearly lost a step or three -- he recovered just 2 1/2 sacks after Week 1 last season -- he was a great player here, one who is universally popular among Patriots fans, and it's always sad to see another link to that first Super Bowl victory depart. (Tom Brady, Richard Seymour, Matt Light, Kevin Faulk, Larry Izzo, and Tedy Bruschi are the six remaining, and that number might be three come September.)

If you missed it while enjoying your holiday festivities, this week's OT column is right here. As a bonus, I'm posting here a few of my Boston sports predictions for 2009 that didn't make the cut.

(Yep. I wrote too long. Again. But by only 500 words this time. That's what you call a craftsman's discipline, baby.)

Anyway, I'll be back with an original column Monday -- at last, one in which the names "Teixeira" and "Boras" will not be mentioned. Until then, here are few deleted scenes that left out of the OT original . . .

Feb. 10: With “Justice” written on one fist and “For Cam” on the other, the Bruins’ Milan Lucic pummels 43-year-old Sharks forward Claude Lemieux so brutally that the longtime villain attempts to announce his re-retirement while cowering on the ice. Neely proudly nods his approval from management’s box, while NESN’s Mike Milbury chucks a shoe in Lemieux’s direction for old time’s sake.

May 23: Assuming it’s no different than taking a mid-game leak inside the Green Monster, Manny Ramirez urinates on the sacred monuments beyond the left field wall at Yankee Stadium during the seventh inning of a 21-3 loss to the Phillies. The entire city of New York is aghast. The ghost of Babe Ruth, however, finds it hilarious.

June 10: The Celtics deliver the ultimate indignity to the Lakers in Game 3 of the NBA Finals when Eddie House’s grade-school-aged son, Jalen, blows past Sasha Vujacic for a reverse layup and a foul with 1:22 remaining, giving the Celtics a 133-82 lead. Vujacic retreats to the LA bench, slaps a folding chair, shakes his hand in agony, and immediately bursts into tears. Little House chest bumps his proud pop, then says: “Dad, you told me there was no crying in basketball.”

. . . while desperately hoping the power has been restored by the time I get home. I would have made a lousy pilgrim . . .

I understand why Danny Ainge might have cursory interest in Stephon Marbury -- he's mimicking the Red Auerbach philosophy that if you bring add a talented malcontent to a winning team with a strong and established group of leaders, he will have no choice but to get in line and behave or get lost. And it always was fun when Red would bring in perceived headcases and troublemakers -- Robert Parish and Dennis Johnson among them -- and they would often become vital contributors for the Celtics. But I think Marbury is a different case -- he's the ultimate me-first player, always has been, and always will be, and I don't think anything is going to change him at this point, including a chance to salvage his career with an outstanding team. Hell, I doubt he even believes his career needs salvaging. He's incurable. I would, however, be curious to find out what the "brain doctor" Ainge consults would make of Marbury. I suspect he would report there was no activity whatsoever.

* * *

While cursing Buffalo's "Dumb and Dumber" duo of Dick Jauron and J.P. Losman Sunday, I realized that we don't have a Patriots Enemies List here at TATB like the one we periodically update during baseball season for the Sox. So, with Jauron and Losman as members of our inaugural class of nitwits and villains, here are a couple of other names off the top of my head that should join them:

Ryan Clark: The hit on Welker might not have been illegal, but it was damn sure dirty.

Brett Favre: Consider it a Lifetime Achievement Award.

Channing Crowder: He's like Joey Porter's mouthier, less talented brother, which, in the case of the former, is saying something.

Eric Mangini: King rat.

ESPN: Every last one of 'em but Jaws.

Ty Law: For taking the Jets' dirty money.

Plaxico Burress For not shooting himself in the leg before the Super Bowl.

Bernard Pollard: Imagine how we'd loathe him if Matt Cassel hadn't played so well.

I know there's some obvious enemies I'm missing, so feel free to chime in with your own.

* * *

Sure, he's so brittle that it's been suggested he change his last name to Pavano -- okay, you got me, I just made that up -- but I still think there's a very good chance that former Brewer Ben Sheets could end up being the steal of this year's free agent pitching class. He has the stuff of a legitimate ace -- when he's right, his breaking ball is absolutely untouchable -- and he's apparently a hellacious competitor, which is something not often said about the pitcher most similar to Sheets statistically, according to baseball-reference.com: the ridiculously overpaid A.J. Burnett. I hope the Red Sox have done their due diligence with the 30-year-old righthander, because if the price is reasonable, I have no doubt that he's a risk worth taking. (In a related note, check out Burnett's top three similarity scores: Juan Guzman, Sheets, Ben McDonald. Yikes. Somewhere, Brian Cashman just sucker-punched himself, then slapped himself in the face to emphasize the point. Oh, yes, the meltdown is going to be fun.)

* * *

While it was a typically disingenuous move by the Red Sox' marketing wizards -- I'm pretty sure Mike Dee would go on camera to tell us the fans just love them even as an angry mob wearing classic Sox caps pillaged Fenway in the background -- I've got no problem with the uniform tweaks. Then again, I grew up in an era when they wore this, so anything would look classy by comparison.

. . . or, if that catchy headline doesn't do it for you, let's call it 32 Things I Think I Think I Think. (Take that, Peter King . . .)

AFC EAST
New York Jets: They have no clue Favre is going to break their hearts with one of his patented four-pick clunkers in the postseason, do they? Oh, the crash-and-burn is going to be spectacular.

New England Patriots: He'll probably never tell us, but I'm desperately curious to know if Bill Belichick saw this in Matt Cassel all along. Remember, the week after Tom Brady got torpedoed, Phil Simms -- probably the one media member Belichick might confide in -- said on the air that Belichick "thinks he has something special" in Cassel.

Buffalo Bills: I can't help but laugh every time one of the network cameras scans the Buffalo crowd -- it's amazing how many people still show up wearing Bledsoe jerseys. Those were the good old days? Seriously? I guess it beats wearing an Alex Van Pelt gamer.

Miami Dolphins: If only Joey Porter had lost his helmet in the last few minutes. Next time, Matt Light. Next time.

AFC SOUTH
Tennessee Titans: This is according to Bringing the Heat, Mark Bowden's richly detailed book on those wild and wildly talented Eagles teams of the early '90s: When Buddy Ryan was let go as Philadelphia's coach in '91, owner Norman Braman narrowed down his list of candidates to two finalists: Rich Kotite, who got the job . . . and a 20-something Ryan underling named Jeff Fisher. Talk about losing the coin flip. Might want to send Mr. Braman a thank-you note, Titans fans.

Indianapolis Colts: First, he beat the Patriots with a 52-yard field goal earlier this season, then, last night, he took down the Chargers with a winning 51-yard boot. Ol' Vinny still has some gunpowder in that leg after all.

Houston Texans: Free Andre Johnson! Free Andre Johnson!

Jacksonville Jaguars: Preening Jack Del Rio strikes me as your stereotypical ex-player meathead. Too bad he doesn't have New England ties, because he'd make an ideal Big Show co-host.

AFC NORTH
Pittsburgh Steelers: Wonder if Anthony "Toast" Smith will impart any of his unique wisdom and insight regarding the Patriots this week.

Baltimore Ravens: Belichick doesn't strike me as one to linger on "What-Ifs," so I doubt he truly regrets taking Daniel Graham three picks ahead of one of his favorite players, Ed Reed, in 2002 NFL Draft. But as much as I appreciated Graham, I'm more than happy to do the regrettin' for him.

Cleveland Browns: Weird how Romeo Crennel's first head coaching experience is similar to his Belichick's -- like his friend, he was set up to fail in Cleveland, Belichick by a duplicitous owner, and Crennel by a locker room full of malcontents. I hope he's back as the Patriots' defensive coordinator the day after Cleveland dumps him.

Cincinnati Bengals: I'm getting the sense that T.J. Houshmandzadeh, who has been a teammate of Chad Johnson-Ocho Cinco's since they both entered Oregon State in 2000, is getting sick of his fellow receiver's act. In fact, he's this close to changing his own name to T.J. Chadshutthebleepupzadeh.

AFC WEST
Denver Broncos: Upset of the season so far: Mike Shanahan hasn't repeatedly plunged his pen into the thorax of one of his players after yet another hideously inept defensive series. But I'd keep my eyes open for the shiv if I were you, Dre' Bly.

San Diego Chargers: Well, they've officially been Norved. I suspect Josh McDaniels might be the one who gets to clean up this talented mess next season.

Oakland Raiders: If the Raiders put up 31 points again this week, does 137-year-old undead offensive mastermind Al Davis immediately become one of the hot names for potential coaching vacancies? (C'mon, you really think Tom Cable was calling the plays? That puppet couldn't call for room service.)

Kansas City Chiefs: ESPN's John Clayton thinks Larry Johnson will be playing for the Patriots next season. I think John Clayton has a vivid imagination.

I'm not saying it was once again all about the money with Ty Law, but don't you get the sense he'd start telling people he went to Ohio State if Jim Tressel forked over a big enough pile of cash?

No, we shouldn't be surprised ol' No. 24 is a Jet. While Law hasn't come out and admitted it, you don't need to be an expert at reading between the lines to realize he'll be with Them instead of Us for tomorrow night's immensely important AFC East showdown for one reason and one reason only: They filled his pockets with more loot. Law always has been a money player, in every sense. (So far, there is no confirmation that the deal was sealed when Law was given access to Eric Mangini's endless stash of 100 Grand bars.)

Not that we expect Law to be much of a factor tomorrow -- 34-year-old cornerbacks, even ones with his extended list of accomplishments, just don't stroll in off the street and blanket Wes Welker. And give me a break about his alleged "insider's knowledge" regarding the Patriots -- he's been gone for four years. Freeman McNeil or Wesley Walker could probably provide Belichick the same amount of insight about the current Jets.

Still, Law's return adds another layer of intrigue to a rivalry that probably would be better described, without a hint of hyperbole, as mutual hatred. In fact, while I'm sure the Jets believe Law will help them at some point this season -- just as we believe he would have eventually been an asset to the Patriots had they met his sticker price -- we fully agree with the sentiment here: the timing of the signing is one more transparent attempt at oneupmanship in a rivalry that has become increasingly petty.

I'm not just pinning this on Mangini, either, though he clearly is an accomplished and gifted weasel. While I generally like Bill Belichick's personality -- he has far better people skills than the common perception suggests, and there's something to be said for dry humor -- his perspective on the Jets falls somewhere between immature and irrational. It's understandable why he considers Mangini, his ungrateful former understudy, a turncoat for joining the franchise whose team president once publicly questioned his sanity. But his refusal to even say the word "Jets"? The man's 56 years old. He should be above that sort of thing.

The temperature is rising on the baseball hot stove, but the Red Sox aren't the only Boston sports team that could -- or should -- be making a significant addition or two soon. Here's a quick look at various players whose names we might be seeing in the transactions in the coming weeks:

Antonio McDyess: The likable veteran forward, who played extremely well at times against the Celtics in the Eastern Conference finals last spring -- he scored 21 points in Game 4 -- is apparently in the process of negotiating a buyout with the Nuggets after he was included in the Iverson/Billups swap for salary reasons. The 34-year-old would be a perfect fit off the bench for these Celtics, a more athletic and versatile version of P.J. Brown, and he does have a history with Celtics boss Danny Ainge, who was his coach with the Suns in 1997-98 and is still an unabashed admirer. That said, McDyess in green is probably wishful thinking. There's quite a bit of informed speculation coming from the Detroit papers that he'll end up back with the Pistons 30 days from now after the Gary Payton Rule is no longer in effect. Here's hoping Ainge is looking at that as his window to make a relentless sales pitch.

Javier Vazquez: It would be cool to have him here, if only as a living monument to Game 7 of the 2004 ALCS, but even with his obvious ability, he's probably not an ideal match for the Red Sox seeing how he basically got called gutless by his manager, then went out and proved him right. I suppose there are worse booby prizes the Red Sox could get in return for Julio Lugo, though. (See: Willis, Dontrelle.)

Mark Teixeira: Yeah, I know, you haven't heard his name enough lately. But here's the thing: My biggest worry at the moment regarding the 2009 Red Sox -- wait, make that my second biggest worry, after the nightmare scenario of Scott Boras brainwashing Theo Epstein into giving the ghost of Jason Varitek a multi-year contract -- is that Big Papi struggles again with injuries and ineffectiveness, and Mike Lowell can't return to form after hip surgery, thus leaving the Red Sox with a very suspect middle of the order. I think the Red Sox have to fill some suitcases full of cash and make a serious and sincere run at Teixeira, and I think they will. The problem, as Tony Mazz wrote today, is that the 28-year-old switch-hitter is so coveted and has timed his free agency so fortuitously that it's almost the perfect storm to make him the next $200 million player. And I don't see the Red Sox paying him anything approaching that figure (heretofore known as Steinbrenner Money), no matter how much they covet him.

Nick Swisher: I wouldn't be surprised if he's one of the Red Sox' fallback plans if they lose the Teixeira sweepstakes. He's in his prime (28), he fits the organizational philosophy of driving up pitch counts (he's averaged 93 walks over the past three seasons), and it's a decent buy-low opportunity. Of course, there's a reason he's available -- he batted just .219 last season, a point lower than the Varitek, and he's just a .244 hitter in his four-year career. Ultimately, it's a matter of Chicago's asking price and whether Theo Epstein believes his potential is greater than the risk. I do think the Sox would take him for Lugo and some minor-league spare parts in a heartbeat, though.

A passing thought on the Patriots while worrying that Dice-K's maddening habit of nibbling will contribute to the end of the Sox' season tonight:

I'll admit, my expectations for (and opinions of) Matt Cassel have tended to fluctuate wildly during the first six weeks of the season, depending pretty much on whether the Patriots won their game that particular Sunday.

So you probably have a sense for how I feel about the Accidental Heir at this particular moment: C'mon, Kevin O'Connell, hurry up and master the offense already, so Cassel can fulfill his destiny of holding a clipboard for the Toronto Argonauts.

Cruel and unreasonable? Probably. But after watching the debacle against the Chargers, I really don't have a lot of hope for him -- or the sluggish and inconsistent football team he's desperately trying to guide -- this season.

The Patriots looked indifferent (and that's a nice way of saying "comatose") once they fell behind at San Diego, and if they play that way against the Broncos -- and I fear they're going to be on the losing end of a track meet -- then it's not going to be long before their fans become indifferent as well. I feel like a spoiled jerk writing that . . . but it's the truth. At least we've still got the Celtics (and at least nine more innings of the Sox, I suppose).

But the point here today isn't to blame Cassel -- by all accounts he is putting in the overtime required of an NFL QB, he seems like a swell guy, and he has some raw athletic ability (though in a sense, Cassel, a former Southern Cal pitcher, reminds me of Chad Huchinson and Drew Henson -- athletes who were just good enough at a couple of sports to not quite make it).

The point is to suggest a certain segment of fans and media should lower their expectations of him, and of what he might become.

For instance, I heard someone -- a deployed 'EEI airbag, I think, but I can't remember which one -- point out that Cassel's numbers through his first five games are similar to Tom Brady's during his first handful of starts in '01. The point, I think, was that there's a chance Cassel could develop into something special at quarterback himself, just as Brady did from his humble beginnings.

Which, of course, is absurd. Anyone who actually watched Brady play in the sudden aftermath of Drew Bledsoe's franchise-altering injury in 2001 saw encouraging attributes in the new guy immediately, even when the statistical results weren't there.

When Brady first took over, you had to be impressed -- again, immediately -- at his poise in the pocket, his uncanny instinct for feeling and dodging the pressure, his ability to sell a fake, his knack for throwing an accurate screen pass at just the right time. They were subtle aspects of quarterbacking, and they were so noticeable to us at the time because they were such unfamiliar characteristics in a Patriots quarterback -- they were important skills that the rocket-armed but satisfied Bledsoe never possessed.

And they are skills (or instincts) that Cassel lacks right now -- and most likely, always will.

Cassel actually might have more physical ability than Brady at the same age, though pure talent has long been an underrated aspect of the Brady package. But Cassell has the timing of a cheap watch, a blind man's feel for the pass rush (how many sacks has he scrambled into?), and even though those weaknesses are in part due to his limited playing experience, it's fair to assume he will never completely master them.

The small things elude Matt Cassell, and I fear, like with Bledsoe, Tony Eason, and so many others before Tom Brady came around, they always will.

I'm sure he could probably start for the Argonauts, though. That was just plain mean.

* * *

FYI, this week's "OT" column can be found right here -- I like to call it my Loving Tribute To The Brilliant 'n' Omnipotent Tito. Seriously, even though Terry Francona hasn't had his finest postseason in terms of strategy, I stand behind every word in the piece but one: instead of calling the Rays "pesky," I'd like to change that to "$*$(#(*$** impressive." Man, are they loaded, for now and the future.

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Baseball Card:

Yep, for karma's sake, we're going back to Hendu. Hey, his magic worked against the Angels.

A Troy Brown tribute edition of Random Lists of Five . . .

Top five most clutch Patriots of all time:
1. Adam Vinatieri. There are three last-minute, game-winning field goals in Super Bowl history. He's hit two of 'em. Next question.
2. Brown.
3. Tom Brady. Obviously tempting to put him higher, but he gets a demerit here for losing a playoff game to Jake Plummer.
4. Kevin Faulk. Somehow, he cured his fumbleitis and became amazingly dependable in big situations.
5. J.R. Redmond. An unsung hero of the Snow Bowl and the first Super Bowl, and a lost cause the rest of his brief career.

Top five NFL players out of Marshall:
1. Randy Moss.
2. Brown. But to Moss's credit, he always refers to himself as the second-best receiver ever to come out of the school. Classy.
3. Chad Pennington. Imagine if he had a fastball.
4. Ahmad Bradshaw. Part of the Giants' stellar '07 draft, he was a steal with the 250th overall pick.
5. Jermaine Wiggins. Gotta go with the East Boston kid over underachieving QB Byron Leftwich.

Top five most memorable plays of Brown's career, all of which you surely can still picture in your mind's eye:
1. The blocked kick/lateral to Antwan Harris against Pittsburgh.
2. The 23-yard catch that set up Adam Vinatieri's winning field goal against the Rams.
3. Stripping the football from the Chargers' Marlon McCree after an interception.
4. The 82-yard TD in overtime to beat the Dolphins.
5. Catching a pass from Drew Bledsoe -- as a defensive back.

In October 2003, I truly hated the Yankees. I mean, I felt it. The Aaron Bleepin' Boone loss affected my mood for days afterward. It made me question why I devoted so many hours and so much emotion to a team that inevitably let me down. For the first time since I was 8 years old, I didn't watch the World Series . . . that is, until a Yankee defeat was imminent. Then I watched. I've been enjoying Josh Beckett's work ever since.

So in that sense, I completely get the national venom for the Patriots. I'm not surprised by all the anecdotes we're hearing about fans in bars in New York and Indianapolis and in all the other football cities the Patriots have pillaged the past seven years erupting in gleeful cheers as Tom Brady writhed on the ground Sunday.

And how predictable was it that the ESPN clowns would climb all over each other to declare the wicked witch in the gray hoodie dead? The Hoges and Schlereths can barely repress their smirks as they wait for the Patriots to get their comeuppance, as if the Super Bowl shocker wasn't enough.

They hate the Patriots, for their success, for all they've denied them. They feel it. I know where they're coming from.

But a word of warning to those who are giddily drop-kicking the Patriots while they're supposedly down: In your bloodthirsty, envious desire to see the fatal blow delivered to the wobbling dynasty, you are severely underestimating the remaining 52 men on this team right now.

Let's get this straight: I'm am not in a state of grief as I write this. I am not a basement-dwelling fanboy in denial. I am not looking for hope anywhere I can find it. I simply believe this to be true:

The Patriots, even without the best player in the NFL, are still going to be a tremendous football team this season. They may not light up the scoreboard, and they may not dominate from the first minute to the 60th, but more often than not - much more often than not - they will win.

They will win because of Randy Moss and Wes Welker. They will win because of Richard Seymour, Vince Wilfork, and Ty Warren. They will win because of Adalius Thomas and Mike Vrabel . . . Dan Koppen and Logan Mankins . . . Laurence Maroney and Sammy Morris . . . Rodney Harrison and Deltha O'Neal . . . Dave Thomas and Ben Watson . . . Jerod Mayo and Tedy Bruschi . . .

They will win because of Matt Cassel. And most of all, they will win because of Bill Belichick.

While we sit here absorbing Bill Belichick's confirmation of the inevitable, let me just say this: I believe in Matt Cassel. Also, in what may be a related story, I suffered a severe concussion in fifth grade and haven't been quite the same since.

I know, this is no time for weak jokes. But in all seriousness, what choice do we have but to put our damaged faith in Cassel, he of the 57 (fifty-seven!) career passes as a pro?

We all know this season took a turn for the surreal at 7:27 of the first quarter yesterday, and it wasn't much later that the cruel truth whacked us like Rodney Harrison from the blind side:

Tom Brady is seriously, severely hurt, and our team's very real Super Bowl aspirations are little more than daydreams now.

There is no replacing Brady, and while I'm sure I offered a similar sentiment about a different damaged quarterback in Week 2 of the 2001 season, those miracles of fate and circumstance don't come around this often. The Patriots may have a winning season, and perhaps they'll have a playoff season, but their chances of a championship season crumbled to their ground yesterday.

I hate the notion that the 15 games to come just got more interesting with Brady out; to me, that's a surefire sign that you've begun to take this era of Patriots dominance for granted. Legitimate Super Bowl contenders are a rarity. You got a blunt-force reminder yesterday: This ain't lasting forever, folks.

Now this is Matt Cassel's team for the foreseeable future, and it's a great credit to him that he performed yesterday like he had been in command all along. He justified his place on this roster, proved he knows the offense, and looked ready to be an entirely capable caretaker in Brady's absence.

Our new concern - one of them, anyway - should be this: What happens if Cassel gets hurt? Rookie Kevin O'Connell, the other healthy quarterback on the roster, can't possibly be ready. At this time a year ago, he was preparing to take on San Jose St. Thus, we give you some semi-serious candidates (please, try to laugh through the tears) to be the backup to the once (and hopefully future) backup:

Chris Simms: The ex-Buc is in for a workout today, and he seems to be the most likely option. He's young, experienced, and has somewhat of a history with Belichick since his old man is a Giants icon. I just wonder if he's a Belichick kind of player; while he's tough, he's never played particularly well in big moments dating back to his days at Texas, and a quarterback of his skill and pedigree should not find himself on the waiver wire at this point in his career.

Tim Rattay: This ex-Niner was the other quarterback the Patriots considered late in the 2000 draft. From a January feature on Brady by ESPN's Greg Garber:

For New England's sixth-round pick, it was down to Brady and Tim Rattay of Louisiana Tech. Quarterbacks coach Dick Rehbein, who had worked them both out, gave the slight edge to Brady. Fortunately for the Patriots, head coach Bill Belichick concurred.

I suppose there would be some irony or symmetry in Rattay getting his shot here now, but Simms is the better quarterback.

Daunte Culpepper: Let's get one thing straight: Randy Moss made him in Minnesota, just as he made Randall Cunningham an NFL MVP and rejuvenated Jeff George's career for one statistically great season. When Culpepper was young, before his knees went (man, I hate that phrase today), Culpepper was a remarkable talent, but sometimes it seemed like the Vikings had just two options in their playbook: See Daunte Run, and See Daunte Heave It Up For Randy. He takes the Brett Favre approach to quarterbacking - just sling it, man - and he's not the right man for this job. In fact, he couldn't be more wrong, but it does remind me of this: It is imperative that Randy Moss stays healthy this season. He may not make Cassel into a star . . . but then again, he's accomplished greater feats.

When the calendar turns to September, it's tradition here at TATB that at least some of our harebrained sporting thoughts turn to football and the Patriots. I apologize in advance for the dumb things I'll write in the months to come (I'm still smarting from arrogantly predicting a Super Bowl blowout). So with that disclaimer out of the way, let's kick things off (groan) with a look at a few of the names caught up in Bill Belichick's odd game of roster roulette the past few days . . .

John Lynch: Like most of you, I imagine, I loved the idea of Lynch on the Pats, but the version in my mind's eye was much different than the one we saw on the field this preseason - namely, the helmet-cracking force I remembered was about five years younger and three steps faster. Though it sounds like there's a decent chance he'll rejoin the Patriots over the course of the long season - he's apparently on Belichick's taxi squad of future Hall of Famers, along with Junior Seau and, I believe, Paul Warfield and Lawrence Taylor - I wasn't surprised he was let go. Mike Shanahan in Denver didn't seem to think he could run anymore, and I wouldn't surprised if Belichick came to the same ruthless conclusion after watching Lynch struggle to keep up with young, fast, and mostly anonymous receivers in the preseason. Ultimately, there may be a role for him here, but sentiment aside, I'd prefer faster players to aging, famous ones.

Chad Jackson: I imagine his famous final scene unfolded this way:

Assistant coach/grim reaper: "Chad, coach wants to see you in his office. Bring your playbook."

Jackson, dropping the PS3 controller in astonishment: "Dude, wait . . . we have plays. Like on Madden?"

It was obvious Jackson had a ton of physical ability. It was also obvious that Tom Brady had no faith in him to be at the right place at the right time on the football field, and when you're a wide receiver and the Franchise doesn't trust you, well . . . let's just say it isn't long before the Patriots send you to a nice home out in the country, where you spend your days obliviously running around in a field alongside Bethel Johnson, Doug Gabriel, Tony Simmons, and Donald Hayes. I'm sure he's happy there.

Ranking your favorite championships is like ranking your children. You have your favorites. You just don't tell your wife.

No, no, wait, dear, I was just kidding . . . Of course I love all of our babies equally . . . Even what's-his-name, the little pirate-looking fella with the wooden leg . . .

(NBA.com Photo)

You see, we're here today to rank our teams' six championships this decade - that's right, SIX championships - and you can bet your Loserville pennant that we're going to enjoy it.

(Editor's note: For today's purposes, we're going to pretend Super Bowl XLII never happened. Because it didn't. Thank you, TATB Management.)

So Yankees fans, you can skip out on us today and surf on over to your other favorite destination . . . what is it again, BronxChixWithMustachesTomSelleckWouldEnvy.com? Sounds right.

Lakers fans, you can stop pretending you care and again focus on your real favorite pastime: bleaching your hair, your teeth, your nostrils, your Vujacic, and whatever else happens to be the Tinseltown trend of the moment. Freaks.

And Philly fans . . . well, I don't even know where to begin with you. Moses Malone isn't walking through that door. And if he did, he'd probably drop 25 and 20 on Samuel Dalembert.

But seriously, enough about you. This is about us. So fire up the duck boats, let the confetti rain, and let's get rankin' . . .

Let's just admit it. Despite devouring all the of the mock drafts, semi-educated guesses, deliberately misleading rumors, and flat-out gossip like we're Peter King rummaging through the Starbucks dumpster, you, me, and Mel Kiper Jr. haven't a clue what the New England Patriots are going to do with the No. 7 overall selection in today's NFL Draft.

Especially Mel. There are a few memorable draft moments that stand out in my mind over the years - the made-for-TV nose dives of Thurman Thomas, Randy Moss, Warren Sapp, and Brady Quinn, Dr. Z's dismissive appraisal of Dan Marino (man, I wish I could find this on YouTube), that one time Chris Berman paused for breath - I think my favorite happened in 2005, when the Patriots selected little-known Fresno State guard Logan Mankins with the 32d and final pick in the first round.

You could just tell from Kiper's reaction that he was completely befuddled by this pick - when asked by Berman for his reaction, he looked like a deer in the headlights, albeit a deer with an awesome man-bouffant - and it was so apparent that he wanted to rip the selection; if I recall correctly Kiper had Mankins pegged as a late second or early third rounder. But bless his little draftnik heart, he just couldn't do it. The Pats, I'm going to guess you recall, were coming off back to back Super Bowl titles, their previous two drafts had been sensational, and at that moment in time it was a self-defeating act to question any personnel decisions that they made. So Kiper dislodged his tongue from his throat, stammered something about it being a bit of a reach but that the mean Mankins was a Patriots-type of player . . . then burst into tears, ripped his draft board to shreds, shrieked "I hate you, Belichick!," and stormed off to his room. Well, maybe not all of that is true. But trust me. It was awesome.