23 used to have wonderful connotations.
Prince says there are 23 positions in a one night stand. And he would know.
23? Michael Jordan's number. I hated the Bulls, and even I know he was a pretty good gambler.
First time I smoked the reefer? Dos. Tres. That's 23 in Spanish, as translated by my tutor Chad Johnson.
Last time I hooked up with a lady under the legal age of consent? Yes, I was 23. But she was very mature. And quite busty.
But now, 23 is an odious number, rife with unpleasantness. Because, you see, the Bears forgot that in football, the ball can be advanced down the field via not one, but two methods: by carrying it as one runs jauntily toward the end zone, or in a play whereby one player, usually the "quarterback" throws the leather-encased ovoid to another player, ideally one on the same team.
So at the end of what was a well-wrapped victory, with a tidy bow and all, former Bears passer Brian Griese threw the ball on 23 straight plays. And he led the Buccaneers back from a 10-point deficit, and to victory in overtime.
Now, I'm not a football coach. I am not a former pro football player, nor have I ever participated in organized football at any level. But if I'm ahead by ten points, and I've held the other team to 47 yards rushing, I might suspect that the other coach will call some pass plays. Maybe.
After the Colts win Lovie Smith talked about keeping safety Mike Brown in the secondary so he wouldn't get hurt, like he's done the past few seasons. And the Bears picked off Griese three times, which is something.
23! Twenty! And three! Straight! Pathetic. I was ready to write this game off after Kali went down, but they had the game in hand. And then...