Take a Breath, BengalFan

It's gonna be fine. Namaste, K?

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Sometimes, youse just need to breathe. Find a calm spot, put your mat on the floor and pretend you know how to yoga.

Know how to yoga?

Whatever. Close your eyes, swallow some air and be, I dunno, mindful. Yeah?

Om, dudes and dudesses.

A useful thing about not being a fan of the local teams is (hopefully) the ability to judge them without hyperventilating. I don’t root for them or against them. I Root For Me. Always have.

Whatever makes for the best, most interesting writing. Whatever makes the (two) typing fingers move in the most inspired way. The day Zac or David or any player says to me, “I hope you write a great column today!’’ is the day I change my thinking. That’s never happened, not in 36 years.

So. . .

The Bengals didn’t lose in Cleveland because Joe Burrow has average-sized hands.

They didn’t lose because Ja’Marr Chase fired up Myles Garrett by referring to the Browns as “elves,’’ which they most assuredly are. Burrow doesn’t like to wear gloves in a game, He wore them intermittently Sunday in the typical North Coast gloom. Didn’t cause The Men to lose.

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3-24 does not guarantee the Bengals will have to go to KC or Buffalo or wherever for an AFC title game. It doesn’t make beating Baltimore here this week any more imperative than it was at 1 Sunday. Isn’t beating Baltimore always at least on the fringes of imperative?

We seek Deeper Meaning when our teams don’t play well. A lot of the time, there is no deeper meaning. As I’ve heard a few times from coaches and players over the decades, “You saw it, write it.’’ Well, OK.

The Men lost because Taylor didn’t have them ready to play. Pick your reasons. Start with the summer vacation-from-actual-gameplaying philosophy. The coach gambled he could beat the Brownies without those responsible for the beating playing any football in August. He lost.

From the way we’ve discussed the weather’s effects on Burrow, you’d think he’d played his entire career until Sunday in San Diego or under a dome. Apparently, he’s never played in the rain. What a lucky guy. I want to be wherever he is. Especially when I’m scheduled to play golf.

And, thanks to Mobster Jeff, there is this:

The Oxford dictionary definition of “brownie’’ is,

"Especially in Scottish folklore, a benevolent elf supposedly haunting houses and doing housework secretly. The name is a diminutive of brown; a ‘wee brown man’ often appears in Scottish ballads and fairy tales, and may be compared with the Old Norse svartálfar, the dark elves of the Edda."

Chase said after the game, “I called they ass elves and we just lost to some elves.’’

I guess Ja’Marr could have called the Clevelands “wee brown men doing housework secretly.’’ But what he did call them wasn’t wrong. If the Browns don’t want to be seen as elfin, they might change the precious Keebler-elf logo that adorns midfield at whatever they’re calling their stadium these days. Until then, they’re elves. Eat a cookie and shut up.

That said, the elves kicked the Bengals aspirations up one sideline and down the other. The Bengals came off as a finesse team, not able to match bare knuckles with the Elves. One game is erasable, though, so we draw no conclusions. But the Ravens are more like Cleveland than not. They’re best playing defense, their O-line is as good as the Keeblers. Their QB is far better.

Taylor’s coaching chops will be tested this week. Time to get 53 minds right. Consider Game 1 as Game 4 of the preseason, given that’s how the team played. Hoist that shoulder-chip on every player’s shoulders. Tell them they have something to prove, because they do.

And pray for cloudless skies. Losing to Elves is bad enough. Don’t lose to the Tweety-Birds, too.

Now, then. . .

THE REDS ARE A GAME AND HALF BACK in the race for Wild Card 3. That’s all I know for sure. Getting Votto and India back is good. Getting Greene back is better, assuming he can pitch even near the way he did Sunday, or more reasonably, the way he dealt last September.

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In his last four starts last season, Greene threw 23 innings with an ERA of 0.78 and 37 strikeouts. Having solid starting pitching provides an intangible the Reds need badly, namely the notion that, at least once every five days, you’re going to have something approaching normalcy.

They got some of that for awhile from Ashcraft and Abbott. Otherwise, the rotation’s dependability has been TBA since April. An ace can steady an entire team. He gives confidence, stability and comfort to his manager who once a week or so isn’t running fire drills with his bullpen.

David Bell deserves MOY consideration simply for managing the conga-line of pitchers (40 and counting) he has needed this summer.

AND FINALLY. . . Nine-Eleven.

I watched 60 Minutes last night. It was a rerun from two years ago, honoring the FDNY for its heroics on that terrible day. I hadn’t seen it before. I hope you saw it. I hope everyone did.

Selfless courage had a face that day. Twenty-two years later, I pray we still recognize it. It looked like the firefighters who trudged up the stairs of two burning buildings on the southern end of Manhattan, knowing they might die. They went, anyway, to try to save lives. The Bible says, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.’’

There was greater love that day, though. The men and women laid down their lives for total strangers.

Their bravery takes our breath away. It’s aspirational. It reminds us of who we can be. It redefines the goodness of humanity. These men and women were given orders to walk into a building on fire and save as many lives as they could. None of them refused.

Three generations of firefighters, from the same families, died that day. One who survived told 60 Minutes, “So many of us sacrificed so much that this story can’t get lost. The world is changing fast and I don’t want this to be something that is in a history book and a page is turned and we’re forgotten.’’

Amen and amen.

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TUNE O’ THE DAY. . . Bruce Springsteen wrote the lyrics to the tunes on the set The Rising by reading the obituaries that were meticulously and lovingly researched by staffers at the New York Times. These obits were not the typical resumes of those who had passed. They were warm, engaging memorials to all who died in the Trade Center towers that day.

The Rising is an open wound for me, to this day. I couldn’t listen to it for six months after it came out. I have trouble listening to it today.

Here’s one of its tunes, about a man who never came home.