Now I Know How Natalie Imbruglia Feels |

what was all that "lying naked on the floor" talk, Natalie?

For all my wacky antics, I’m a guy who generally likes routines. Compartment-alizing my life helps keep things nice and tidy and that makes it all much more manageable. Take the Carolina Panthers, for example. So far, there’s been three major chapters in my life vis a vis the Cats. The honeymoon period from the the mid to late 1990s when the team was founded and burst forth on to the NFL scene. My Dark Period, wherein all sports fell by the wayside while my love for making movies and wearing courds took over. Finally, there was the Relapse/Rebirth Period, from its humble beginnings in a motorcycle bar in Winston-Salem and the magical Super Bowl run that followed, up to and including last year’s thrilling last-second win in San Diego.

January 10th, 2009 felt like the end of a chapter to me. The Panthers loss to the Arizona Cardinals at the hands of Jake Delhomme provided me with nine months to marinate on my emotions towards the franchise. By summer the scars had gnarled over and I was ready to talk myself into another stellar year. Heck, we were returning 21 of 22 starters from a 12-4 team; what could possibly go wrong?

August was spent exploring various corners of the US and every week the Panthers would lose a pre-season game. An impending sense of doom cast its dark pallor across my heart as week one approached. On opening day, in Bank of America stadium, the bottom fell out and for the next twelve weeks John Fox and Jake Delhomme put on a nausea-inducing display of stubbornness. Jake’s expiration date had passed, he couldn’t throw an accurate ball past fifteen yards. And what was worse, we had no conceivable plan for the future.

Those twelve weeks convinced me that Relapse/Rebirth Period was over. I brewed a piping pot of Kool Aid and drank it ravenously. I was setting my sights on the future: a world without a turnover-prone Cajun and stocky Silver Fox prowling the sidelines. All the planets seem to be aligning themselves with rumors of Bill Cowher’s itchy coaching chin whispered in the wind and the quarterback class this year was much stronger than last (it’s a shame we don’t have any draft picks this year before round seven). It was a glorious time to look forward to a new era…

And that’s when Natalie Imbruglia comes into the picture.

The Panthers have assembled a 3-1 record since Jake Delhomme “broke” his “finger”. The only loss was a well-played contest against the Pats wherein the major story wasn’t who won or lost, but rather that the Panthers defensive backfield shut down Randy Moss with startling efficiency. The Cats have won by dominating Pro Bowl offensive lines and embarrassing tough Ds. That Jonathan Stewart was the first 200 yard rusher the Giants franchise had allowed since 1976 speaks volumes, but also puts me in a pickle. Several fellow bar patrons made it known to me how happy they were that Carolina had been eliminated from the playoffs, because they looked to be the best team in the NFC these days. Begrudgingly I admit that this team looks pretty good with most cylinders pumping hard.

And now, word comes down that John Fox and his Merry Men will be back for 2010 and I just don’t know what to think. There’s a big part of me that admires anyone who can tackle adversity in the way in which he’s done so. His name was mentioned in “mid-season firing” conversations and now he’s off scot-free. (It should be noted the Panthers are electing not to extend Fox’s contract, which runs through next season. I wonder what it would take to make Cowher sit out one more year? Free Bojangles, perhaps?)

It would’ve been nice to get a new coach, new GM and new quarterback to start a new decade, but neat and tidy ain’t how the Fox/Hurney/Delhomme Era has rolled. Just when you think they’re down for the count, that’s when these guys will surprise you with a haymaker. If we lose out on the chance to get a top-shelf coach like Bill Cowher (especially if he goes to Tampa Bay) I’ll be sad, but ultimately the guys we have now have earned much more respect than I’ve been giving them. So to John Fox and all the other frustratingly lovable ragtag bastards in Carolina, I tip my hat to thee and expect bigger and better things next year.