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Kubiak Konundrum -- Rapa Nui Edition (a/k/a Jags Game 2, a/k/a False Advertising Edition)

So, fair warning one: This will not be your normal entry due to the fact that I do not have a keyboard that I know how to use an apostrophe on. So bear with me and accept the { or the absence of apostrophes as my apostrophe. And, basically, please accept my lack of capital letters and formatting and proper punctuation.

Ed. note: Fixed. I couldn't handle how it looked unedited.

Fair warning two: This entry will discuss none of the normal Kubiak Konundrum fare. I only was able to listen to the game and will double up next week when I have finally watched it. Seemed to me like a masterfully managed job in the second half, but please leave comments if I should pay special attention to anything.

Third fair warning; Here's what I wrote Sunday evening, slightly edited, which sounded scarily like Tim's have-fun take with way more ramblings.

Okay, so I'm on my honeymoon, dammit. I'm definitely not going to let this ruin my mood. Elizabeth's asleep after a trip to the ER for an eye ulcer (yeah, I've never heard of it), but she's not going to let it ruin her mood either. Yes, we are in Rapa Nui, a/k/a Easter Island, the most remote inhabited island on the planet, and somehow we found a way to kind of/sort of find an internet shop that was fast enough to stream Mark Vandemeer along with choppy video. Finding an open hospital on a Sunday was a little tougher, but we perservered, just like the Texans defense did while playing the role of local mash unit.

But, dont get me wrong. Elizabeth fought through it. She fought through the ulcer to watch/listen to the game even though she couldn't open her right eye. Then, after the game, she went to the hospital just like Matt Leinart. We all put our pants on and go to hospitals the same way--one leg or step or indecipherable taxi ride at a time.

Here's my point: Arian, Mario, Andre, Sharpton, Schaub, and now Leinart (Rashad Butler at least gets a mild props here, even if Dom Barber doesnt). Shit done already hit the fan. No use complaining. No use fretting. No use even hypothesizing the next whens and whos and whys.

As one of my heroes, Jake Taylor, might say, there's only one thing left to do: Win the whole, fucking thing.

Im not going to go that far, but I will say I think it's conceivable. As is a first round loss.

All I know is it's gonna be fun.

And, really, this might be the thing the team needed for the mass loves of the fandom. I've always had the theory that you can't truly love a team--I'm talking down to the bone--until it crushes your heart.

It's nothing against this Texans team. I love them very much. But has this team really crushed anyone's heart? It's had games that kick you in the nuts. But it's never really been in enough contention to crush and rip that heart out. Not like that damn team in that damn game in Buffalo (or Pittsburgh, I've heard). Not like the 'Stros in Game 6. Not like the Rockets did before doing CPR on our bleeding pacemakers as they fried on the cement.

So, to come full circle, this team was just finally starting to finally put it all together enough to properly break our hearts. Do external forces not caused by the team count in the breaking hearts category? Do all those years of futility and dramatic losses overcome the extremes of playoff heartbreak?

Here's the thing: I don't care. For now, the expectations are off. For the relevance of the Kubriak Konundrum, I think everyone has pretty much given him a one year pass, barring a total collapse.

For the first time in awhile, I say let's stop thinking about it and just have fun. Let's just sit back and double that Texans-to-win-the-Super-Bowl bet we have since the odds have most likely returned to that level for the first time since preseason. Let's get fully behind this T.J. Hooker kid, fully embrace him and the team, and start believing as he takes us to a bye. Let's start believing that he can take us all the way. Only if we give our full hearts to that scenario can they later be considered fully crushed and our future Kubiak championships will be that much more rewarding.

Or, we just might give Rachel Phelps that big ole shit burger and win the whole fucking thing.

You never know.

That's why we love sports.

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