CSN Bay Area

Dez Bryant. Rules that defy explanation. Your eyes have been told to drop dead by the NFL yet again. I rest my case.

[RATTO: You hate the Dez Bryant call, but you can't quit the NFL]

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Bill Belichick reinvented NFL offense Saturday by not handing the ball off in the game’s final 34:18. He didn’t need the spread, or the read option, or the wildcat. He just needed to face the fact that he is Mike Leach. Next up: A jaunty eyepatch that says only, “We’re on to Indianapolis.” Which, by the way, is probably where Marshawn Lynch got it.

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Speaking of which, Lynch is questionable for Sunday’s conference final, evidently because he can’t yet decide whether to wear a beret and answer every question, “Je suis Seahawk,” pull out some cards and say, “Pick a card, any card,” or just take up the accordion.

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And speaking of THAT, our two little football teams badly need some interesting spokesmen. Jed York is combative, Mark Davis is coy, and Trent Baalke and Reggie McKenzie spend their words like they were bank managers guarding a vault. None of them ever make you go “hmmm,” think a new thought or ever wish you could have a beer with any of them. Frankly, they’re just plain tedious.

And that’s not a professional judgment. That’s just personal.

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Speaking of which, I see Rex Ryan just got a job, and Dan Quinn is about to get one. I consider these direct repudiations of the local football teams, and I blame the above people for not being more fun.

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We’re all getting more jaded, so with that in mind, I almost wish that Hannah Storm had punched out the makeup person who mistakenly tried to give her a quick touch-up which she was on air.

Of course, there are some on-airs (none I know personally, you paranoid maniacs) for whom I wish the makeup person had pulled out a broadsword and lightened by a head.

Hey, kids, it’s big-boy television. It’s a jungle in there.

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Francesco Totti, the 38-year-old force of nature who plays for AS Roma, scored a marvelous goal Sunday (look it up if you don’t believe me) and celebrated by running about sixty more yards to the stands to celebrate, then grabbed a team functionary’s phone and took a selfie while puckering as if to kiss himself for being so damned magnificent.

And then he answered every question after the match by saying only, “Dire ‘formaggio’ (Say ‘cheese’).”

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The Teemu Selanne jersey retirement ceremony in Anaheim Sunday night lasted an ungodly 1:33, obliterating the 1:15.47 the New York Rangers expended in saying goodbye to Mark Messier in 2006 (YouTube, via Yahoo’s Joshua Cooper), and Winnipeg coach Paul Maurice wasn’t far off when he said, “I think they’re showing every second shift he played.”

He did thank everyone he ever met, though, and seemed to mean it, and the Golden Globes last twice as long with a bunch of people getting stuff for doing things, so Teemu kicked ass one last time.

Oh, and in the interest of whorish log-rolling, Colin Hanks got hosed for not winning the award for whatever it is he did.

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And finally, I hope Peyton Manning plays five more years to make to make Twitter turn purple with impotent and disrespectful rage. Oh, and I hope he flips them off every day, too.