That game was stupid.
"That game ..." Ramon Foster began, then ended with an expletive about that game.
"So bad," Lawrence Timmons would say. "I mean ... that's just so bad."
That game, he meant.
All around the Steelers' locker room at Heinz Field late Sunday afternoon, I was picking up that same spitting sentiment about that game. It wasn't about their performance. It wasn't the outcome, a 27-24 overtime victory, albeit over the Browns. And it most certainly wasn't that Cobi Hamilton, the latest grand marshal from the practice-squad parade, pulled down the sudden-death touchdown from Landry Jones:
No, what had these players seeing red, at least the vets, was that game's mere existence.
To continue reading, log into your account:
