By Natasha

• Moe's Tavern Shopper
  
• The Surprisingly Good Edition
  
• I really didn't think I had it in me.
  

Well, on Saturday, John Navarre made a believer out of me. John, I'm sorry I ever doubted you. I'm sorry I compared you to so many spineless, gutless, immobile animals that I ran out. I'm sorry I thought your central nervous system was on loan from Ohio State. You may never be Drew Henson. You may not even be Brian Griese, but hey, I'll bet you'll never break your ankle "tripping over your dog" either. But you finally showed who John Navarre is, and for that you've earned my respect.

My fellow Moes, there were many times this season when I didn't think we had it in us. The dark Phil Spector of doubt had begun to creep into my heart, and I nodded in agreement when Moe said, "I think the other teams are just better than us." On Sunday, you proved me wrong. We may never be the Enforcers. We may not even be the BWs, not that we'd want to be. But we can play with them. We can do battle with them. We can scare the ridiculous gold shorts off them. And yes, we can beat them. We showed those guys what it means to be Moes and that's why I love this team.

Gimme an "Ow"
The house of pain was in effect during Game 1 Sunday, with the BWs characteristically putting a whole lot of slap in their shots. I heard some rumblings from our banged up crew that they may have been targeting us on purpose. I have to say I don't think that's the case. We've played against these guys for a long time and with the exception of Ted, who was inactive, and the burly blond guy with his laser-guided navigation system, I don't think any of them have a clue where the ball is going when they hit it. They just hit it as hard as they can and hope for the best. Sleevehead Gary looked more shocked than me when he hit that one into my stomach. I swear, I wouldn't be surprised if he rifled a shot up his own ass one day.

Gimme an "EEEEE!"
Apropos of absolutely nothing, SportsMonster has reactivated the two-ref system just in time for the end of the season. The good news is they brought back Al and Al's stripy shirt AND the hanger that Al hangs his stripy shirt on when he removes it. Al is different from Terry in that, while Terry just says bizarre things, Al says normal things that come out completely wrong. Like our quote of the week, which came during a conversation with Cindy and myself. I'm pretty sure Al wanted to say that a lot of us female players don't want to be treated any differently because we're female. We're tough, physical players and we want to play that style of game. However, what Al actually said was, "these guys get pretty rough, but a lot of girls really enjoy that." Seriously, can an idea backfire any worse than that?

Gimme an "S"
Sean was on fire during Game 1. He's discovered a rich vein of form just in time for the playoffs. Or maybe he's discovered a rich vein of liquor. Whatever. My hat's off to you, buddy. You were spectacular. I also have to mention Mike. He's the heart and soul of the team right now. I really can't choose between the two for Player of the Game, so I'm going to crown them co-champions. They will have to share their can of Keystone Light using twisty straws.

What does it spell?
Moes! Moes! Moes!

Shopperific
Sunday's games were so much fun, I've decided to commemorate them with separate Shoppers. Also, it's a short week for me and I just can't cram all the JATHA-related humor into one column. So look for a bonus Shopper next week. Or don't look for it. See if I care. In the meantime, have a safe and restful holiday. Or don't. I refer you to my earlier statement on caring.

Parting shot
After the glorious Moe's win, Al came by to check up on my various contusions. Because that's the kind of caring stripy-shirted guy he is. He said a bunch more things that came out wrong, but eventually he said something to the effect of, "you seem to take care of yourself and eat right and all that." Oh man, I came thisclose to saying, "you know, Terry gave up meat for me." Why is Matt never around when I need him?!

-nj out