Mister Faded Glory | www.misterfadedglory.com

When an entire game swivels on a phantom illegal contact penalty, it’s not your year.

When their fumbles always go out of bounds, are always uncalled, are never recovered, it’s not your year.

When the drops bounce into opposing D-backs, it’s not your year.

When third-downs are improbably converted against you, and weirdly fail for you, it’s not your year.

When Kyle Orton and Kerry Collins look like fucking Pro Bowlers, it’s not your year.

When the offense absolutely cannot stay on the field, it’s not your year.

When failure strangely keeps occurring, where success used to happen, maybe it’s not your year.

When a team clad in ghastly all-pale blue defeats you, with a final score making the game look like a rout (for the third time in four losses), it’s not your year.

And maybe, the injuries, the timing, the staccato lack of repetitions, and the lack of continuity prevents it from being your year.

Maybe it’s all the games adding up, maybe it’s a schedule with few breaks, maybe it’s a bye week improbably in Week 3, maybe it’s just luck, maybe it’s poor execution.

But it’s not your year, and though it’s never quite over, you already know.  It’s just not your year.

That’s why there’s next year. Or next week. I guess.

Perhaps most sadly, for three quarters, the Colts, up until a third-down stop was negated by a phantom penalty called on Marlin Jackson (Don’t worry, your crack MNF crew failed to mention this), played their best game of the year. From that point on, the offense failed to execute, and soon all was lost, and soon the score looked ridiculous. The Titans have a great O-Line, but they’re not exactly a juggernaut. A frustrating game for the Colts to drop, in a year full of frustrations. In a year which isn’t theirs, for whatever reason.

And finally, no one on Earth is as incompetent in their job as Mike Tirico, Ron Jaworski and Tony Kornheiser are at theirs. No one.