The Prelude, Week 1: Hope Versus Knowledge

Matt Ufford is the editor of With Leather and a co-founder of Kissing Suzy Kolber. The Prelude is his sincere examination of the coming NFL weekend.

Last Saturday, on the tree-lined streets of Brooklyn where I live – and, I suspect, elsewhere across the country – the wind changed.

The hot breath of August wheezed for the last time. The sluggish muggy stillness became a warm breeze, as if even the fickle weather patterns preferred switching over to fall on the first day of the college football season.

And if NCAA football can shift the wind, then the NFL's inaugural Sunday may well induce the earliest arrival of Fall foliage on record. With due respect to last night's blowout, Sunday marks the true beginning of America's favorite sports season, the 21 weeks that perennially revive historic rivalries, give rise to upstart playoff teams, fuel our fantasy addictions, and shatter the dreams of thousands as injuries and regression topple what we thought were sure things.

But before all that, there is this moment. This moment: the precipice of the season, the result of 31 long weeks of painful waiting between the lifeless bookends of February and August. This is the only time where hope runs unbridled. After Week 1, the NFL embarks on a season-long exchange of hope for knowledge.

Fans begin the season with faith in the NFL's system of parity, with dreams of their team making a run at a Super Bowl title. But a score of teams never see the postseason, and only one team wins its final playoff game. By February, the country is littered with ruined hopes as fans gain knowledge of their team:

This is the year Eli Manning puts it together! becomes Why is he still overthrowing receivers?

Dan Snyder didn't overpay that free agent! becomes Dan Snyder overpaid that free agent.

There's no such thing as the Madden Curse! becomes How did an anvil fall on him?

And so on.

With that in mind, here are my hopes – sans any grain of knowledge, of course – for select battles from Week 1's slate (Note: excluded matchups are left out with the sole purpose of sowing ill will.)

Early Sunday

Eagles at Packers -- I hope Brett Favre is horrifically injured on the first play from scrimmage, leaving the Pack in the hands of the Aaron Rodgers, whom Favre has steadfastly refused to help develop. Over the course of the season, as Rodgers leads Green Bay to a surprise playoff berth, Favre rehabilitates his injury – say, a broken femur – in the hopes of returning. When Week 17's game against Detroit at Lambeau Field arrives, a limping but healed Favre earns the start, and, in a touching ceremony, announces his retirement to a rabid crowd before opening kickoff.

He is then horrifically injured on the first play from scrimmage.

Broncos at Bills -- Bills fans throw baby dolls on the field when Travis Henry takes the field. Marshawn Lynch is solid, because it don't get no better than solid.

Steelers at Browns -- After a rash of injuries to Browns quarterbacks, Romeo Crennel turns to Brady Quinn. Brady Quinn is wearing a leather vest.

Falcons at Vikings -- Vikings fans taunt the Falcons with signs related to dogfighting, even though Michael Vick is nowhere to be seen. They also crucify Adrian Peterson for his performance. But it's not a malicious act; it's merely because he's Purple Jesus.

Patriots at Jets -- Why must an intellectual battle like Belichick-Mangini be sullied with such brute force on the gridiron? Couldn't they just play a game of chess? That's what I'm hoping for.

Dolphins at Redskins -- Dolphins ownership is finally vindicated for passing on Drew Brees to sign Daunte Culpepper and Joey Harrington when 37-year-old Trent Green goes 18-for-39 for 200 yards, two touchdowns and an interception in a narrow victory. Elsewhere, the Miami-spurned Brady Quinn throws for 300 yards in relief, an impressive feat given the leather vest and bandanna tied around his helmet.

Late Sunday

Bears at Chargers -- I love the city of Chicago, but I find the Bears a wholly uninspiring team: an unimpressive offense led by an inconsistent quarterback and blandly effective running back; a great defense anchored by the sort of morally unsavory types that give Roger Goodell fits (guns, threatening text messages to baby mamas, and wrecked Lamborghinis come to mind); and a special teams unit that on any given week is trusted to be the primary means of scoring.

I hope LaDainian Tomlinson runs roughshod. And I hope he does it in a powder blue jersey.

Lions at Raiders -- As a Seahawks fan, I'm not allowed to believe in the new conventional wisdom that bestows the title Jon Kitna, Fantasy Hero. I merely hope this game isn't nearly as atrocious as it looks on paper.

Buccaneers at Seahawks -- I think the Bucs are a good team. I like them. I got nothing against them. But I definitely hope the Seahawks make orphans of their children.

Sunday Night

Giants at Cowboys -- The match-up: two slightly-better-than-average teams with shaky quarterbacks thrust into the national spotlight because they have large national followings. What do I jokingly hope for? A tactical nuclear strike. What do I actually hope for? A joint Manning-Romo nervous breakdown that ends in nationally televised tears.

Monday Night

Ravens at Bengals -- I simply hope to one day meet someone who actually roots for the Ravens. I've seen pictures of their fans. The stadium always seems full at home games. And yet over the course of my Internet writing career, I still have yet to hear from a single Ravens fan. Perhaps I should make fewer jokes about Ray Lewis killing people?

Cardinals at 49ers -- Oh no, a Monday night doubleheader? I hope ESPN doesn't give Joe Theismann the gig.

Ten Things. Just Ten Things.

Every week The Prelude will conclude with ten bits of ephemera from around my brain. Just ten things.

1. Your weekly TV coverage maps. Believe it or not, some NFL fans aren't fabulously wealthy. Since not everyone can afford DirecTV's Sunday Ticket or seven hours of bar tabs, every week I'll be linking to the NFL TV distribution maps. Here you go: CBS early games; FOX early games; FOX late games.

2. NFL Style Watch.

This is the watch Falcons CB DeAngelo Hall wore to the Espy Awards in July. In other news, I own a Swatch! (Note: NFL Style Watch will not always be an actual watch.)

3. The original inspiration for Jaws was a series of shark attacks on the Jersey shore in 1916 that killed four and injured one over a six-week span.

4. More adorable puppy: Bernese Mountain Dog, or Golden Retriever? Discuss.

5. Who to watch this week: your favorite team, dummy.

6. It's sad Luciano Pavarotti died, but do we always have to stop the presses every time someone in their 70s or 80s passes away? We shouldn't be surprised if Jerry Jones or Wellington Mara or Trent Green died tomorrow. Oh, my mistake. I'm being told Trent Green already died.

7. Peyton Manning and the Colts offense torched the Saints in the second half last night, yet I still somehow find the Colts offensively dull. I blame the following: the RCA Dome, the city of Indianapolis, Dallas Clark's goatee, Marvin Harrison's quiet brilliance and the blandest uniforms in the league. C'mon. Even the Browns managed to find a third color for their unis.

8. I'm not sure I can name a Titans offensive player other than Vince Young. I wouldn't be surprised if Vince Young felt the same way.

9. Where can I find some Pop Rocks?

10. Parting shot:

Just a reminder that if you're home and have the chance to watch the games this Sunday with friends or family (or at all), you've got it pretty good. We harbor high hopes this weekend, and our emotional investment in the NFL runs deep. But when announcers inevitably use the war metaphor to talk about the millionaire athletes on the field, remember that we live and die by our teams' performances only metaphorically.