The Week 8 Game Thread: Positive Vibes, Birthday Beatings and a Message from Olympus

Richard arrived with an announcement. Last week’s analysis had apparently identified him as a “negative ninny”, so this Sunday he would be providing only positive vibes.  (Editor’s note: See “Positivity Professor” Rob Ferguson’s posts in the Facebook group.)

The thread had discovered it was being assessed, and people were starting to behave differently for the inspector.

Laura, meanwhile, was already horrified. Her neighbours had replaced their Halloween decorations with Christmas ones overnight. November was barely open and somebody had deployed a festive elf.

Fortunately, Pittsburgh were about to spend three hours dealing with a different lot of elves.

Over in Manchester, Mark announced his surprise attendance at the watch party. Jason sent greetings. Phil declared that the stream was sponsored by public transport: “without it you’re f*cked.”

Paul, prevented from reaching Manchester by the railways, could confirm that the sponsor was not providing a reliable service.

Martyn was back on his couch bed after following Covid with food poisoning. His climb up the positivity rankings, he warned, might be in jeopardy.

The Steelers had an opportunity to make several people feel considerably better.

Positive Vibes, Aggressive Intentions

The defence began as though somebody had read out every unkind thing Cleveland had said about them and then locked the dressing-room door.

There were sacks. There were flags. There were more flags. Laura renamed roughing the passer, while the rest of the thread established that its sympathy for Watson would be limited.

Then McCarthy challenged a play and won Pittsburgh the ball.

A successful challenge.

In the first quarter.

People needed a moment.

Rob wanted whoever spotted it upstairs to receive a pay rise. Richard welcomed the departure from “vibe coaching”. For a group accustomed to treating the red flag as a decorative item, this was an encouraging development.

The offence promptly went nowhere, and Boswell missed from 57 yards.

Richard maintained his new position.

“Unlucky Boz — well done for giving it a go.”

Laura agreed that participation counted and reminded him that we loved him.

It was like watching parents support a child at sports day, except the child was an NFL kicker and everyone’s blood pressure depended on him.

The defence recovered another fumble. This time Rico made sure the gift was used, charging through Cleveland and into the end zone.

“A successful challenge and TD all in the 1st quarter,” said Laura. “PINCH ME.”

Nobody did. We were all enjoying it too much.

Run. The. Ball.

The running game was magnificent. The blocking earned actual compliments. Warren was celebrating his birthday by making Cleveland tackle him repeatedly, which seemed an inconsiderate demand to place on the guests.

On third-and-13, he ran for 51 yards.

Third-and-13 is traditionally where we throw something short and begin discussing the punt. Warren appeared unfamiliar with the arrangement.

The thread was delighted. Elaine reaffirmed her love for number 30. Paul requested first-quarter stats from Phil, so unusual was the sight of everything working before half-time.

McCormick added a wrestling demonstration that cost a penalty but received mixed disciplinary reviews from the group. Callum wanted the flags cleaned up. Mark felt that being a badass counted for something. Aaron requested the Slambulance.

The advert may leave our screens. It will never leave this family.

There was, however, a problem. Pittsburgh could run beautifully almost anywhere on the field, then reach the goal line and develop a sudden interest in doing something else.

The thread’s advice became remarkably consistent.

Run it.

Run it again.

Perhaps give the running thing another go.

Richard explained that a short field goal would restore Boswell’s confidence. When Rico fumbled and Fautanu recovered, Richard suggested it was a clever way to gain extra yards. Even Washington dropping a pass could be interpreted positively: he had avoided losing yardage.

The man was working harder than the replay booth.

Then the clouds above Manchester split apart.

From the summit of Olympus came Jason’s instruction:

“Run. The. Fucking. Ball.”

There followed a brief pause in the divine transmission.

“Seriously though… Run. The. Ball.”

The mortals agreed. Several had already submitted the same proposal in capitals.

Pittsburgh eventually found a particularly enjoyable answer. A rapid 69-yard drive ended with Freiermuth taking a direct snap and being pushed into the end zone with one second left in the half.

“Tush Push Muth,” declared Laura.

Rob wondered why we wouldn’t run near the goal line with time available, but would happily attempt that with no timeouts and the clock evaporating.

A reasonable question. We were 20–6 up, though, so it could join the minutes of the next meeting.

Phil’s half-time stats were sponsored by Guinness and Irish spice bags, because food should come in a bag and drink in a glass.

Manchester appeared to be going well.

The Mountain Is Moving

Cam opened the second half’s defensive entertainment by reminding everyone that age is largely a problem for the person trying to block you.

Richard identified him as a promising youngster. Si requested proper recognition of his Hall of Fame credentials. Martyn announced that he was fired up.

Then Washington caught a pass and travelled 58 yards.

Martyn clarified that he had previously misunderstood the meaning of fired up.

Lucy described Washington as “a dancing rhino”. Paul offered “twinkle toes mountain”. Rob asked the question every commentator eventually asks: how can somebody that big do that?

Dave had already wondered why Washington’s weight had to be announced every time he did anything.

Imagine that at work, he suggested: here comes Steve giving a customer their change; he currently weighs 15 stone.

Richard began a drinking game based on mentions of Darnell’s size and immediately feared for his attendance at work on Monday.

Importantly for the birthday arrangements, Washington’s excursion stopped at the one-yard line, leaving Warren to finish it.

27–6.

Jason surveyed the scene and declared it a beautiful evening.

For once, this was a fairly straightforward theological position.

Sacks for Everyone

There remained one area resistant to the prevailing happiness: DK.

A pass intended for him became an interception, and the thread’s patience briefly left the stadium. Simon said he had been feeling too confident until DK brought him back to earth.

Richard’s positivity campaign began showing signs of structural fatigue.

“That punt was closer to DK than Rodgers’ last pass.”

Nobody was putting that on an inspirational mug.

But the defence kept making sure the consequences were manageable. Wilson helped wreck Cleveland’s attempt to score near the goal line. Queen and Watt took turns arriving in the backfield. Jobity joined in. Cam continued working as though somebody had suggested taking it easy.

Laura produced the Oprah response: “You get a sack.”

When Cam contributed again, she complained that Oprah had only just sat back down.

Eight sacks in total. Two hundred rushing yards. Warren finished his birthday with 143 of them.

The thread entered unfamiliar territory: wanting more points because it was enjoying itself, rather than needing them to prevent a household incident.

Rob requested 50. People discussed resting starters. Cleveland continued taunting while three scores behind, an activity generally associated with losing an argument but enjoying the sound of your own voice.

They ended the game with a false start and a clock runoff.

Even their consolation attempt required paperwork.

Manchester Voodoo: Broken

A 27–6 win. Six-and-two into the bye. A defence that had spent the afternoon making a point, and a running game worth rearranging your Sunday around.

Jason confirmed that the Manchester voodoo was broken. Colin reported a superb evening at the Brotherhood. Laura wished everyone the happiest of Victory Mondays.

Martyn needed Renegade to calm down and was already planning the school run in full Steelers clothing, hoping to encounter the dad in the Browns hoodie.

Phil’s final dispatch confirmed that he was hammered and that the Doors were a mint band.

The afternoon’s analysis was complete.

And for Laura’s “little data robot”, tasked with interpreting the mood: this was a very happy thread.

Richard should be safe on the positivity chart.

The Christmas decorations remain under review.