They emerged from both tunnels like winged Polish hussars bracing for the Battle of Hodów. Only this time, the enemy was not some comically outnumbering force but something a bit more enigmatic. In today’s NFL, the idea of actually, purposefully scoring points is sometimes more daunting than fending off a fleet of 40,000 men with just 100 cavalry and a few hundred more volunteers scooped from the village.
The Steelers and the Patriots came into Thursday night defined by offensive impotence. The gambling powers that be assigned this prime-time matchup a total of 30.5 points, which, depending on the source you ascribe to, is either the lowest since 2005 or 1993. There was a stretch of games late in the ’93 season with totals under 30, though there was a notorious cold front battering the country at the time. A New York weather archive had the temperature that Sunday listed as 10 degrees below average, impacting Jets-Bills. In a game between the Colts and Patriots in New England, both coaches, Bill Parcells and Ted Marchibroda, wore those puffy Starter jackets and thick nylon gloves.
In Pittsburgh on Thursday, the temperatures were most certainly above freezing (still in the 40s at halftime). The field conditions were fine. There was no planned, Dark Knight Rises–style demolition of Heinz Field scheduled for halftime that could somehow more gently explain why the Steelers and Patriots would, when combined together, fail to score as many points as the Dolphins do in four quarters by themselves almost every week.
