Tuesday, November 23 All bets are off at midseason By Brian Murphy Special to ESPN.com

So I spent Sunday in Vegas. After the tilts in Week 9, let it be no surprise to you that I am wearing only a barrel as I write this.

	Those standings are correct. Stephen Davis and the Redskins are tied for first with the Giants.

Chargers-Broncos under? You couldn't keep me away from the betting window.

Chris Freaking Miller and Jim Freaking Harbaugh combine to obliterate the 35-point under.

49ers giving up 2½ at home to a lousy Pittsburgh team? Of course the Niners will right the ship -- lay the bet!

Turns out to be the worst 49er team since Scott Bull took snaps in 1978, bringing back wicked flashbacks of my life as an 11-year-old, forced to eat spinach and go to bed by 9 p.m., before Monday Night Football was over.

Titans getting 3½ against Miami? Hell, put down the family farm. Even if the Dolphins win that game, I figure, it'll be a 13-10 battle.

Titans don't score a gosh darn point. Dang nabbit.

The only winning bet of the weekend came from my wife, a Yale graduate. She coolly cut through the crap, slipped me some cash when she dropped me off at the airport and uttered only: "Take Seattle and give up the 14" before leaving me curbside at SFO in a blast of carbon monoxide.

Maybe she should write this week's column.

I've been dazed and confused for so long, it's not true.

I need a break. I need to step back and analyze the league that, just a year ago, gave me Steve Young, Michael Irvin, Garrison Hearst, Terrell Davis, Jamal Anderson and John Elway and now is giving me Kurt Warner, Stephen Davis, Jon Kitna and Damon Huard. For the love of Dan Marino, man, have we turned into the World League right before our eyes?

It's halftime in the grueling four quarters of our season as fans. We need a respite. We need a breather. We need a clue.

We need midseason awards, observations and head-scratching. And I need a column theme.

Forthwith, "Our Second Annual Midseason Awards, Observations and Head-Scratching."

Things we know we can count on: Nothing. Or, more precisely, that nothing makes sense. Sure, we can count on Mike Holmgren's status as the game's best coach. And yes, we can count on Miami's defense. And of course, we can count on Peyton Manning. For that matter, we can count on Ryan Leaf, too.

	Peyton Manning Quarterback Indianapolis Colts Profile
	1999 SEASON STATISTICS COMP ATT YDS TD INT RAT 166 276 2281 15 9 91.2

But does all that make up for what we can't count on? Isn't there a reason we're all screening calls from bookies and creditors this Thanksgiving? Man, this league will take the shirt off your back! Detroit is 6-2 without Barry Sanders; St. Louis is 6-2 after losing 101 games in the 1990s; the Colts are 6-2 and there is a team called the Titans! Who are 6-2!

It's time to pull out the old "I'm comin' to you, Elizabeth!" Fred Sanford cardiac arrest at the laptop. It's all too much to bear.

Things we know we can't count on, or things we used to count on but can't anymore: Like the 49ers. And the Packers. And the Broncos. And the Bears! Wait a minute: Are those the New York Giants on top of the NFC East? Tied with ... wait, that's not Washington, is it? Is this 1988? Am I back in college, eating boxloads of Domino's pizza without worrying about pant buttons flying off and putting out an eye?

We can't count on these guys to stink anymore. We can't count on the other guys to be any good. In a way, I guess that means we can count on them. I swear, the spirit of Pete Rozelle is above us, cracking a Stroh's Light, partying with Don Rogers and George Halas, welcoming Sweetness over to the freshest sports bar in heaven, saying: "Get a load of this: So I've arranged for the Rams to have a three-game lead on the Niners at midseason, and my bookie calls me and says: Hey, who do you think you are, God? And I say: No, but I saw him the other day and he told me to lay two large on the Seahawks against the Broncos!"

Laughter all around. Lord, what fools we mortals be.

Sure you picked these guys on your fantasy team: At QB, Kurt Warner. Come on. Admit it. You saw his name on a pre-draft list and thought it was the old Seattle running back. At RB, Ty Wheatley. Come on. Admit it. You thought the dude was out of the league. At RB, Stephen Davis. Come on. Admit it. You couldn't pick this guy out of a police lineup in August. At WR, Michael Westbrook. Come on. Admit it. You thought this guy was in a police lineup in August.

Well, enjoy. The rest of us Steve Young-picking, Jamal Anderson-investing, Barry Sanders-selecting (yeah, you thought you were the Man when you pulled that late-round pick, didn't you?) schlubs will have to turn our attention to our NHL fantasy leagues. Now, once more: Explain icing to me.

The he's-still-got-a-gig? award: To Bruce Coslet, coach, Cincinnati Bengals.

What, did they forget they could fire this guy? Yo, this ain't the civil service, Mike Brown. I remember a classic Letterman skit from the early '80s where he suggested workplace gifts for the viewer, including the "Sassy Civil Servant Mug" that read: "I'm dead wood. But they can't fire me!" Coslet must be toting this mug out to practice every morning, sipping java while drawing up plays on the grass for another Cincy blowout loss. Get rid of the guy already! He's proven for many, many years he is not a head coach. Time to gently suggest that, OK, boys?

And, finally ...

The you-were-cuter-when-you-didn't-have-a-team award: A runaway. The city of Cleveland. Because at least, from 1995-99, we had the sweet memories: Graham, Brown, Sipe, Byner. Now, we have ugly reality. All over the place.

And don't slip on my torn-up betting slips on your way out the door.

Brian Murphy of the San Francisco Examiner writes a weekly "Tuesday Morning Quarterback" column for ESPN.com.