The National Football League season began last night in Denver with a 49-27 Broncos demolition of the Super Bowl Champion Baltimore Ravens. Peyton Manning threw seven touchdown passes, the first player since the great Joe Kapp, who I passed one time on a sunny weekend Berkeley sidewalk while he ate an ice cream cone, did it in September of 1969.
I was late getting home, having to run a few errands after work. I missed the lightning-storm delay. I watched the second quarter and some of the third before shutting off the TV, which I don't think I had turned on -- maybe once -- since the Super Bowl.
I was impressed by the Broncos TE Julius Thomas. I noted the freshness of Ray Rice's legs. The Ravens miss Ed Reed and Dennis Pitta. Dallas Clark's drop of a sure TD pass from Joe Flacco was big.
So another NFL season begins. A lot of commercials on the menu for the next five-plus months. I am conflicted. I couldn't stop thinking about the war machine being amped up as I watched the Bronco cheerleaders and listened to the play-by-play delivered by one-percenters Al Michaels and Chris Collingsworth.
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