By Adam Hart
Location: A secret underground lair in the outskirts of Indianapolis. Eleven men sit, gathered around an oblong table in a surprisingly well-lit room; it being underground and all. Come to think of it, a work order for new LED lights was filed last -- shhhhh, they're starting.
Bill Polian: Gentlemen, you all know why we're here: the Patri-oughts. They've beaten us, beaten us real bad. For some, it only inflicted minor damage. Others suffered catastrophic derailments.
Marv Lewis: Tell me about it. Twelve games later and we've only got two wins. TOcho doesn't deserve this.
Mike Tomlin: What TOcho doesn't deserve is Carson Palmer. He's about as accurate as the NFL investigation into my boy Big Ben's social outings. Am I right?
Crickets: This noise, unimpeded.
Rex Ryan: So what d'ya propose we do there old BPol?
Bill Polian: It's Bill.
Brad Childress: I say we exact cold, calculated revenge.
Ozzie Newsome: Sounds like a good idea.
Brad Childress: Seriously? You mean you guys are willing to actually listen to me?
Tony Sparano: Who wouldn't listen to you? You wear glasses. They're like ear magnets.
Chan Gailey: Wanna hear something crazy? With my glasses on, I kind of look like Steve Nicol, the New England Patriots' soccer coach.
Rex Ryan: That's some great insight there Channy. Remind me to call you next time I'm having trouble falling asleep.
Jim Schwartz: Wait, maybe he's on to something. He can probably waltz right into their offices, if he knows how to dance a waltz. And if he can pick up an English accent.
Chan Gailey: Well, I have been watching a lot of Michael Caine movies lately during our team film sessions. Maybe that'd help.
Bill Polian: But we can't stop there. These Patri-oughts -- that's how you say it, right? -- are primed to go on another of their Super Bowl runs if we don't stop them. For some reason fans value those silver trophies over regular-season greatness. I blame the media and it's love for shiny things.
Mike Martz: We'd all be fine if the NFL would just force all teams to move into domed stadiums. Everything would fall into place for us.
Brad Childress: Yeah, except for when that Wrangler-wearing, no-good Brett Favre isn't standing where he's supposed to when the roof collapses.
Ozzie Newsome: Umm, what?
Brad Childress: Nothing.
Mike Martz: I just can't believe the league is actually allowing a Super Bowl to be played in New Jersey -- far from tropical temperatures and wind-free domes.
Rex Ryan: Super Bowl? The Jets are going there!
Tony Sparano: . . . Right. You'll be tending to your pigskin graveyard.
Philip Rivers: Well, what if our only problem is having an inept coach? I think firing Norv would solve this problem pretty quickly.
Everyone else: No!
Rex Ryan: Hey, Phil, why don't you and your angry eyebrows hit the road? But if you decide to come back to apologize for bringing up the 'F' word, grab me a Chalupa or something . . . Ah, what the hell. Make it two.
Mike Tomlin: Can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm with Rex. Let's grab some gosh-darn lunch.
Jim Schwartz: Yeah, I'm happy with our progress.
Tony Sparano: Lunch it is.
Mike Martz: I don't know about this guys. My regular lunch time is 12:15. I have problems adjusting to pretty much everything.
Rex Ryan: Bet you even have a hard time adjusting yourself. Hehe.
Bill Polian: Ahem. Then we're agreed: we'll do something in the near to future to stop the Patri-oughts.
Brad Childress: Ok. But once we settle on a plan, no audibles. I can't take any more audibles.
Location: Gillette Stadium.
Bill Belichick: Alright guys. It's on to the Packers. We've got a big week ahead of us. They're great on offense, defense, special teams. Let's get to work.