The NFC South is a mess. Not the fun “I just ran a half-marathon in the mud with my friends and posted photos on Facebook” kind of mess, but a hot sulfurous bog formed in a mixing bowl because you cracked rotten eggs to make meringue on The Great British Bake Off kind of mess.
The NFC South is the NFL’s hottest division. Hottest mess, that is
Nothing ever makes sense in the NFC South.


No week has better typified the steaming pile of randomness in the division better than Week 12, when nothing made sense — and no fanbase should be happy.
Falcons fans have no reason to be happy. The reality of the season just came crashing back down after six blissful days when there was hope and merriment. To think, we’re only 24 hours removed from people saying “NOW the Falcons are back on track,” while working out the statistical gymnastics required to have Atlanta find a backdoor to the playoffs. That’s slammed shut now because the Falcons couldn’t beat the Buccaneers in a game where Jameis Winston threw two interceptions in the first three drives.
Panthers fans definitely shouldn’t be happy. Don’t get me wrong; I’m sure there’s a small segment of the more, shall we say, truck-owning population of the fanbase fitting specialized whistles to their F-150 exhausts so it sounds like a shrill “KYYYYYYLE ALLLLEN” when they drive past. But all in all, this was a disaster pie.
The Panthers had every chance to beat the Saints in the Superdome. They had the ball at the New Orleans 12 yard-line with less than four minutes left, and had six chances to score before trying a chip-shot field goal. And missing.
Nothing hurts more than losing because of a kicker, and it hurts even more when you look at the stats.
All this after Carolina somehow won a pass interference challenge to set up first-and-goal, which should have closed everything out.
There is no planet where Saints fans should be happy, even though y’all will act like you were never worried. This is a 9-2 team that needed a missed field goal and two missed extra points to beat the Panthers ... the PANTHERS. If you want to hang your hat on that one, then more power to you, but nobody should be excited about the playoff chances of their team after almost losing to the Panthers.
The Bucs ... well, I don’t really know what to think — and I have a sneaking suspicion Bucs fans don’t know what to think either. I cannot fathom trying to watch this team week in and week out with a vested interest in their outcomes. One week they’re beating the Rams, the next they’re losing to the Panthers (who they beat earlier in the season), then they’re losing to the Giants but beating the Falcons. It’s all exhausting. I guess you’re happy today? But it’s that hollow kind of happiness that comes from grandma telling you she has candy, but it’s all black licorice.
Someone out there is stroking their chin and nodding about the NFC South, saying, “Yes, this is the kind of parity the NFL needs.” As someone on the ground in the middle of this stupidity let me say that, no, it is not. The NFC South is an incomprehensible division where up is down, down is up, nothing makes sense, nothing can be predicted, and even when you finally think you have it all worked out, the Saints almost lose to the Panthers.
The worst part? There are still four more NFC South games to be played — including two in Week 17. Rest assured something dumb will happen.
Let’s go around the league.
Not the hero we need, but the one we deserve.
One fan made it clear who had his support in the Josh Allen vs. Brandon Allen battle:
I’m in awe of anyone who has the real estate to write an entire, crowd-legible sentence on their stomach. I’m not sure what the face paint is adding here, but I’ll allow it. It has a reverse Spider-Man vibe to it.
Also this dude’s stomach reminds me of that guy with the giant hand on The Simpsons.
We have three quarterbacks in the NFL all with the last name Allen, all of whom started NFL games this week. There can only be one winner in the Allen Bowl and this week that goes to .... Kyle Allen.
Kyle Allen had a near-flawless game against the Saints, throwing for 256 yards and three touchdowns. He also consoled his kicker after the game, which didn’t turn a loss into a win — but I’m sure Joey Slye felt a little better.
And his prize for Allen of the Week is a VHS set of Home Improvement, so he can enjoy Tim Allen back when he was funny and not a weird conspiracy theorist.
Is everyone else keeping up with how well Ryan Tannehill is playing?
This is not a joke or a drill. I’m sitting here as stunned as the rest of y’all. Tannehill’s stats were never bad with the Dolphins, but there weren’t anything to write home about. Tannehill has been a revelation this season since taking over for Marcus Mariota this season, completing 72.1 percent of his passes en route to a 111.4 passer rating.
The 6-5 Titans remain within striking distance of the playoffs, and if they make it, Tannehill will be the reason. What a world.
Let’s check in on TurtleGronk.
Gronk looks like a youth pastor who warns kids about the mistakes he made in his life, while accidentally telling them that drugs and alcohol are awesome.
Of course, there’s A LOT of amazing things Gronk looks like.
Big men rejoice!
History is all around us, we just need to look closely enough to see it. 347-pound Vita Vea became the heaviest person to score in NFL history. There’s hope for us all.
We are hurtling toward a Patriots-49ers Super Bowl, and we should all embrace this.
At this point, there should be no doubt left in anyone’s mind that the 49ers are for real. This leads us to the dream of a Super Bowl meeting between Tom Brady and his former backup.
There is nothing more perfect in this world that the possibility of Jimmy Garoppolo beating Brady and sewing small seeds of doubt in the minds of Patriots fans that they should have made a move at quarterback earlier and kept Garoppolo. It would be like a Sith Lord being killed by an extremely attractive model-quality Sith.
Or maybe Garoppolo is more like a cute little baby Yoda.
Yeah, that’s the one. See you guys later, I’m off to write my fanfic.













