30 Second Column
	I think I've found this year's Patriots/Ravens but I don't want to ruin their colossal karma so I won't mention them by name. They've been flying under the radar screen all season long, cruising along, gaining confidence, always coming out on top in their most important games. In fact, they have now won eight of their last nine. They have a fearless, gutty, emotional leader at quarterback who is so banged up with sore ribs and a bad toe that he rarely practices and is still having the best year of his career. A defensive coordinator once told me this guy was the toughest football player he had ever seen. (Yeah, just ask Ty Law.) They have the potential now to get Freaky on defense. Their franchise back gained 101 yards last week. They have a coaching staff that has been to the Super Bowl. They have wins against the Eagles, the Colts, the Steelers and the Pats. And they're still in the hunt for homefield advantage in the post season with games against Jacksonville and Houston left on the sched. Are those enough clues for you to (Tennes)see?
	The Flem Five
	Top Five NFL Tie-Breakers: 5. Strength of schedule 4. Best net ranking among conference teams in points scored and points allowed 3. Best won-loss-tied percentage in common games, minimum of four 2. (Draft order) "Any non-Super Bowl playoff club involved in a tie shall be assigned priority within its segment below that of non-playoff clubs and in the order that the playoff club exited from the playoffs. Thus, within a tied segment a playoff club that loses a Wild Card game will have priority over a playoff club that loses in the Divisional playoff game, which in turn will have priority over a club that loses in the Conference Championship game. If two tied clubs exited the playoffs in the same round, the tie is broken by strength of schedule. If any ties cannot be broken by strength of schedule, the divisional or conference tie-breakers, which ever are applicable, are applied. Any ties that still exist are broken by a …" 1. Coin toss
	WHYLO of the Week
	I'm a bit worried. Outrageous hate mail has become a staple of this column but very few of you could find anything wrong with last week's piece on Saints returner Michael Lewis. Have I lost my touch? Michelle Hillison writes, "Just wanted to say I really enjoy your work, especially this week's Lewis article. You do a great job of personalizing your work without making yourself the focus of it. That's the mark of a great journalist but it also allows your readers to experience the story much better." Don't get me wrong, I really appreciate kind and thoughtful emails but, really, who wants to read those? People don't slow down on the highway to rubberneck at a smooth, safe interchange. Jonathan Saurage then brought up an interesting point. "Just curious but do you ever have repeat e-mailers who berate you? If you do I think you should consider a WHYLO-of-the-year award." And then, as if on cue, last week's WHYLO, Jon Marshall, chimed in. "(Homophobic slur), I see you got my e-mail. Thanks for the pub. Funny, no mention of just how (poorly) your boy (Maddox) played. Maybe he was still paralyzed? How on earth you get to write an article, however, still remains one of the great mysteries of life." And lined up right behind him was Ryan Jackson, who called me the Larry King of ESPN The Magazine last week. Ryan wrote in to clarify his first hate email. "I don't have a problem with your opinions. I merely take issue with your wretched writing. Your columns and interviews are utterly pointless. Your columns plod around aimlessly, and whatever statements they make are trite and maudlin. Every writer (uses) fill-in columns every now and then. But before you, I'd never seen somebody making a living off of fill-ins. In conclusion, I didn't take issue with your Maddox opinions. I took issue with your incoherency and meandering prose." You got that? Ryan hates my column and the wretched writing so much he read it twice and took the time out of his busy schedule to send in TWO hate emails. Ryan wins the first ever WHYLOT Award. Ryan, Who Helped You Log On …Twice?

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Jerry's house
Not a Cowboy was talking, not even Troy Hambrick -- that louse;
The jerseys were hung in the lockers with care,
In hopes that some real football players soon would be there.

The fans were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Jimmy Johnson danced in their heads;
And Campo in sans-a-belt, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for an off-the-record chat.

When up on the screen there arose such a clatter,
It's the GM, whispered Campo, that's what's the matter;
Away to the highlights we flew like a flash,
Both of us tripping over Nate Newton's old stash.

There we watched T.O. dancing on blue turf,
The once-proud Cowboys now looking like Smurfs;
When what to my bloodshot eyes should appear,
But a Mercedes, with eight women in hot pants and cheer.

They had a weird-looking driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Jerry Jones -- we'll call him St. Slick.
More rapid than eagles his comments they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and seemed quite insane.

"Fire, CAMPO! Fire COSLET! Fire ZIMMER! Even STEPHEN, MY SON!
Cut, EMMITT! Cut QUINCY! Cut ALLEN and WOODSON!
To the bottom of the standings! How far can we fall?
I'll fire them! Fire them! Fire them all!"

And then, in a twinkling, I read on the wire,
It was Norv Turner whom St. Slick wanted to hire;
I drew in my breath and uttered this sound:
Is there any way Jerry can run himself outta town?

He was dressed in a silk/wool blend, from his head to his foot,
And his rep as a GM was tarnished with soot;
Forty million in bonuses he had flushed down the drain,
"We couldn't even beat Houston!" he whimpered in vain.

His eyes -- how they sunk! His voice -- it did crack,
His team was about to lose 11 games in seasons back-to-back-to-back;
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
One more injured lineman and this dude might blow!

"We quit against the Giants," he said, gritting his teeth,
And the smoke from his ears circled his head like a wreath;
"We've got no defense, our tackling is quite smelly,
And our offense couldn't run through a bowlful of jelly."

"Sure, Emmitt is still a great jolly old elf,
But his best performances are usually with Alf.";
St. Slick had a tear in his eye, his look seemed much harder,
What the hell was he thinking drafting Quincy Carter?

He spoke no more, but went straight to his work,
And attacked his coaches and roster with the usual knee jerk;
Laying his finger aside of his cheek,
He wished the Cardinals would come back to the NFC East.

Then he sprang to his Mercedes and I asked for a word,
Instead he paused -- smiling, he flipped me the bird,
But I heard St. Slick exclaim as he drove from the noise,
"MERRY CHRISTMAS YA'LL! AND HOW 'BOUT THEM COWBOYS?"

David Fleming is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at FlemFile@carolina.rr.com. But watch out -- you could be the WHYLO of the Week.