Oh what fun it is to see Tampa win away Happy Christmas Jon, love Sean. As early Christmas presents go, this one couldn’t have been better if it had a big, red bow on it. What on earth was Sean Payton thinking when he called that trick play, botched by Reggie Bush, at the end of the game? Who cares? It’s four wins in a row and a play-off place is almost a lock. I feared the worst when I saw that Jeff Garcia couldn’t go, but who could have predicted that Luke McCown would show such poise in his first start since 2003? Even more surprising was that Jon Gruden showed such faith in his relief quarterback, right from the start of the game. It would have been perfectly understandable if Gruden had chosen to scale-back the playbook and keep it simple for McCown, with an emphasis on the run, but the Coach was more expansive and creative than anyone could have possibly imagined. This was Gruden the “offensive genius” that we’d heard so much about: an end-around, a trick play with Earnest Graham pitching the ball back to McCown to throw and the sweetest of play-fakes at the goal-line which completely suckered the cameraman and left us all cursing a blocked run, before McCown eventually lobbed the ball to Anthony Becht for the simplest of touchdowns. All this and the quarterback finds ten different receivers – I knew that someone other than Joey Galloway could catch a ball! What a fantastic contrast to the offensive struggles of last week against Washington. It has to make you wonder what Jon Gruden saw in Gradkowski to previously make him think that he was a better option. Much of what McCown did was hugely impressive and his tremendous deep pass to Galloway in the first half showed that he has a stronger arm than any of the other quarterbacks currently on the Bucs’ roster. He was also surprisingly mobile at times and, for one brief moment when he galloped down the left touchline, it was like watching a gangling, white Michael Vick. It would have been a travesty if, for all of the really good things which McCown did, his two mental aberrations had cost us a game which we otherwise controlled: the pick to Mike McKenzie was, perhaps, forgivable, but giving up the Safety looked to have been disastrous at such a crucial stage in the game. Fortunately, the Buccaneers got the opportunity to ensure that justice was done (thanks to Sean Payton’s moment of madness) and our quarterback managed to compose himself sufficiently to finish the job in style. But, in a game where the lead changed on six occasions, there had to be another moment of high drama: for Gruden to go for it on fourth-and-one either showed immense faith in his offence, or betrayed a lack of confidence in Matt Bryant getting it done from long-distance. Happily, the gamble paid off and the Bucs got what they deserved. McCown’s performance and the Buccaneers’ now comfortable position in the Division means that there is no need to rush Garcia back into action. Luke certainly deserves another chance at Houston next week, if Garcia is not one hundred percent. All in all, it was a pretty good day for the McCown boys, as brother Josh threw for three touchdowns in Oakland’s win over Denver. Not so smart? Evidence that some of the Bucs players are perhaps not the sharpest tools in the box? Exhibit A: Did you see Greg White’s pre-game back-flip? Amazing agility for a 290-pound defensive lineman, but how sympathetic is Jon Gruden going to be if White injures himself with that party trick? (Picture the scene: the team physio goes to Gruden’s office and says “Coach, Greg White has torn both Achilles doing a back-flip for the TV cameras”. Gruden replies “Hmmm, that’s a pity, please be sure to give Greg my best wishes for a speedy recovery”). Apparently, White’s landing measured 3.5 on the Richter Scale. Exhibit B: Michael Clayton’s relationship with Gruden has, reportedly, been a little strained at times and he gets few opportunities to really catch the eye these days. Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest move to unload a less-than-subtle late hit on a Saints defender right in front of the officials, after Earnest Graham had made a big play? Luckily for Clayton, his transgression was offset by a face-mask call against the defender, which probably stopped Gruden from erupting. Sacred Sunday nights I like to think that I’m a pretty rational, well-adjusted individual, at least for seven months of the year. Sure, certain things do get my goat: bad drivers, people using their mobile ‘phones in the ‘quiet carriage’ on my train, men with moustaches – you know, the usual stuff. But, from February to August, life is pretty normal. And then the NFL season starts. I don’t follow the College game, so I’ve only really got a passing interest in the NFL Draft, which strikes me a being something of a lottery anyway. For me, it all starts in earnest around early August when the fantasy leagues start drafting and thoughts turn to kicking the butts of friends, colleagues, vague acquaintances and complete strangers. And then, after what seems an eternity of waiting, the season kicks-off and I’m as happy as a pig in poo. My wife, however, has an aversion to sport. When we first met, I was a season ticket holder at West Ham (I know what you’re thinking: a Buccaneers fan and a West Ham supporter, he’s certifiable) and, although she’s never shared my passion for the Hammers, she does at least understand it. However, she just doesn’t get the NFL thing and can’t understand my fixation, despite my best efforts to give her a rudimentary understanding of the game. “Why does it take six hours to play a match?”, she’ll ask (she is somewhat prone to exaggeration), or “so why isn’t the other team’s quarterback on the pitch as well?”. She generally gives up asking when I start rolling my eyes. My poor, bewildered wife has now become resigned to the fact that Sunday is NFL night. For a long time, she couldn’t comprehend that I’m quite happy to sit there for the entire evening (punctuated only by breaks for food, drinks and calls of nature) watching a couple of games. Given the choice, I would also stay up and watch the late game, but I work for a company which is, rather inconveniently, a bit of a stickler for people actually arriving on time and staying awake during working hours. For a while, the Sky multi-room option was my wife’s retreat on a Sunday evening and she’d disappear upstairs when she realised that I had no interest in watching Four Weddings and a Funeral for the umpteenth time. Now, though, she’ll invariably sit with me during my NFL marathon and I even think, occasionally, that there’s a genuine spark of interest when she peers over the top of her book and notices what’s going on: “Is that Eli Manning?” “No, it’s Peyton”. “Peyton’s the good one, isn’t he?” She’s harsh, but fair, my wife. I’ll make an NFL fan of her yet. Mike Davidson, 5 December 2007