The Week 6 Game Thread: Sprouts, Slambulances and Five Quarters of Emotional Damage

Jason welcomed everyone back to home turf. Phil announced that the evening’s stream was sponsored by sprouts, made an impassioned appeal to adopt one, and declared that a team with a fake pirate ship in its stadium had no business playing professional sport. Mark warned the DAZN viewers about an advert called the Slambulance.

These were the innocent minutes. We should have treasured them.

The Steelers began with a defensive stop and the sort of field position that makes you think, Yes, this could be a pleasant evening. The offence took one look at that possibility and declined.

Mount Washington helped an interception into existence, a promising return disappeared under a special teams penalty, and Bernard went backwards when a first down was the one direction required. Tampa kept finding ways forward. Pittsburgh mostly found ways to make everyone check whether the kitchen needed tidying.

Mark soon reported that he detested the special teams unit more than the Slambulance. This was a significant statement from a man already keeping a Slambulance count.

There were defensive moments worth cheering, particularly from Ramsey and Herbig, but they kept arriving between fresh reasons to groan. Boswell missed a field goal. Rodgers looked stuck. Suggestions that he should come out grew louder. At one stage Phil calculated that his quarterback rating had doubled to 30, a statistic delivered with roughly the joy of a dental bill.

The thread began doing what this thread does when football stops being a suitable source of entertainment: finding absolutely anything else to discuss. Phil offered a history lesson about the lack of toilets at Versailles ahead of the Paris trip, followed later by the Australian Emu War.

Sprouts remained under debate. There were biscuits. There was dipping sauce. Nigel put some washing on. Phil’s famous half-time stats were sponsored by happiness, “because everyone has forgotten what that is.”

Mark described the game as “about as fun as an autopsy” and asked which Steeler deserved the nickname Slambulance. The advert had ceased to be an interruption. It was now a member of the group, albeit one repeatedly told to go away.

Laura’s cat Mallow had the soundest approach to the spectacle: burrow under the duvet and avoid the television.

For three quarters, the game seemed determined to prove Mallow right. Then, with no explanation and certainly no apology, the Steelers began playing football.

Washington got into the end zone. Richard announced, “WE DID A FOOTBALL!” Stu sat up again. Laura named the fourth quarter “hope/anxiety hour,” which is considerably more accurate than anything printed on an NFL broadcast graphic. Everett came up with an interception, and suddenly people who had been mentally composing their post-match complaints were shouting at the screen instead.

The comeback was untidy, naturally. A promising drive stalled; Boswell got points on the board. Another pushed the fate of the entire group towards his boot from 58 yards. Even the play clock managed to add a complication, apparently deciding the kicker needed icing by his own team. Boswell made the kick anyway. Phil apologised for doubting him, joining a queue that was about to get much longer.

Then Dean intercepted the ball and handed Pittsburgh a glorious chance to finish it. The thread had a simple request: give Warren the ball, run the clock, make Tampa use its timeouts. “Give it to Warren!” became less a play suggestion than a public petition.

The Steelers threw instead, settled for a field goal, and left Tampa time to answer. Tampa answered. We were going to overtime.

By now Laura was openly hoping that this mammoth thousand-comment effort might get a happy ending. Rhys spoke for anyone whose body clock had stopped believing in sport: “I’m tired boss.”

And then came the fifth quarter. DK made the catches. Warren produced a run that had Laura booking him onto Dancing With The Stars. Bernard stretched the ball over the line for the touchdown, and the thread experienced the very specific joy of finally taking the lead after approximately an entire lifetime. “Only took ya 67 minutes ya bloody spanners,” said Rhys. “THIS TEAM IS INFURIATING I LOVE THEM,” said Mark. Stu, having hated the sport for three quarters, loved it again.

There was still time for one final test of everyone’s heart. Tampa had the ball. Ramsey came flying off the edge and ended the game as forcefully as he had begun it. Rob pointed out the symmetry. Mark, completing the advert’s unlikely character arc, announced that Ramsey had put Daniels in the Slambulance.

For those keeping count at home, the Slambulance appeared 15 times in the comments. By the end, Aaron was proposing them as Christmas presents and Martyn was offering to buy.

The aftershocks were almost as good as the game. Mark wanted to know how on earth they had won. Elaine apologised for her earlier negativity. Rob revealed he had refused to move from his sofa since the third quarter, despite increasingly urgent personal needs. Phil said his son Marshall had finally seen what his dad goes through every Sunday, then declared the Super Bowl was on. Laura thanked the group for being the equivalent of a fourth-quarter team themselves.

And at last the clouds parted. Jason’s voice came down from Olympus with the verdict on Rodgers: for all the immobility, poor throws and sacks, you cannot take him out while the game is still winnable. It had been a slog. The result was the result. The mortals, many of whom had requested a change at quarterback several dozen comments earlier, were left to consider this.

Three quarters of misery, a fourth of unreasonable hope, and overtime to remind us why we put ourselves through it. Next stop, Paris. Pack your heart medication, your lucky sofa and, if Phil has his way, a sprout.

The Facebook Game Thread is where the fans at the meet-up and the fans on their sofas get to share the same ridiculous few hours. Join the UK Steelers group for the next game, bring your snacks, your pet photos and whatever lucky jersey has survived the season so far.