Tuesday, December 28 Y2K bug bites NFL early By Brian Murphy Special to ESPN.com

Hoard the bottled water. Stock up the cellar with canned foods. Put the case of Pabst Blue Ribbon -- in cans -- in a safe, cool place.

	Despite two straight losses, Kerry Collins and the Giants still have a shot at the playoffs.

Yes, I am packed with Y2K fears, people. The possibility of bank failures. The specter of air-traffic control meltdowns. And the terrifying prospect of another year of the sitcom "Boy Meets World" on free, local television.

What's more, our football landscape -- the very warm cavern in which I seek weekly refuge -- is now a vast, frightening wilderness, a miasma of uncertainties in which the only thing we can count on is the expansion of the universe, the expansion of our population, and the expansion of Big Dawg, that 500-pound Browns fan in the dog mask.

I mean, did you check out the action from Week 16, the last gridiron action of the century? I don't know if I can handle another century of football if what we are left with is Oliver Stone's cinematic subtlety, Jerry Glanville's quiet, reflective analysis and a world where teams with 7-8 records are alive for the playoffs going into the final weekend.

I got no sleep Sunday night. Over and over the horrifying, turn-of-the-millennium images came to me: Brett Favre's swollen thumb, Bill Walsh's liver spots and Al Davis' hair.

Let's make this week's List of Five -- oh my God, the last List of Five of this century! Aaaaahhhh! -- a tribute to the Y2K fears from Week 16 plaguing the NFL right now, a list of the apocalyptic images and thoughts threatening the greatest game ever to grace our satellite dishes:

1. Dan Snyder's mug.

We have seen the vision of the NFL owner in the 21st Century and it is the vision of oppression, of smugness and of filthy wealth. In other words, it's no different from the last century. But really, enough of this guy! The cameras cut to his mug after every freaking play of the Redskins' victory over the 49ers. He gets more air time than Leif Garrett's "Behind the Music" special on VH1.

Granted, it's not his fault that the cameras seek him out. But it is his damn fault that the cameras want to seek out his mug, because he has been such a tantrum-throwing, fire-everybody, me-first owner that they're waiting for an outburst in his luxury suite. Maybe I'm just nostalgic for an old century, but give me the old shots of Jack Kent Cooke at RFK, wearing those big-money wraparound shades with his South American mistress by his side. Those were the days.

2. The NFC playoff scene.

If there's anything more abominable than the thought of Snyder's air time, it's the sight of the NFC playoff possibilities. Have you seen the permutations? Dallas, the New York Giants, Green Bay and Carolina -- all at 7-8 -- are alive. I say, don't let any of 'em in the party, boys. Restrict the playoffs to five NFC teams.

These guys are likes drunks showing up at the door, claiming they forgot their invite. Call up the bouncers and toss these guys on the sidewalks by the scruffs of their shoulder pads. And if anybody in the city of Charlotte even mentions the p-word this week -- they need a freaking tie from the Giants and Cowboys! -- they should be forced to sit through morning sports talk radio. The only p-word in Charlotte should be "pack 'em up, lads." Because it's over.

3. The return of the Vikings.

Can we have a century without Minnesota in the playoffs? Please? Since 1968, the Vikes have made the playoffs 22 times. To recap, briefly: They have never won a Super Bowl. That's not bad luck, that's a bad franchise. You go to Vegas, you win something once in 22 tries! And this comes from a kid who used to sport a Chuck Foreman game jersey at his local neighborhood tackle football games.

Is Denny Green just Bud Grant in disguise? (Granted, that is one hell of a disguise if it's true.) Do you honestly believe these guys have a chance to win the NFC? I guarantee you this: they'll make it as painful as possible for Vikings fans. I predict they make it to St. Louis for the NFC Championship ... and then get rolled! Count on it, baby.

4. The Saints.

Loyal readers of this column -- and really, thanks to the both of you -- will know that I have made a living filling out space on the travails of Iron Mike Ditka and his not-so-slow descent into madness. The dreadlocked wigs, the crotch-grabbing, the profanity ... God, I love that guy. If there's anything we could count on in this fin-de-seicle insanity, it was the bumbling Saints, who, for the love of Carmen Policy's hair spray, lost to the Cleveland Browns this year! Remember that.

So on Christmas Eve, of all nights, they pull a George Bailey on me. Standing on the bridge of despair, ready to jump in, they get visited by the guardian angel, Jake Delhomme, and come to the revelation: "I want to live again! I want to live again!" Damned if I wasn't brushing a tear out of my eye when the Saints won that game. Of course, then the TV cameras showed some deep-fried Cajun fan in a Santa hat, his gut straining at his Who Dat? T-shirt, dancing in delight in the stands. What a way to ruin the moment.

5. The Browns played their final game of the year.

What, a new century of football without Cleveland? Who can we pick on? How can we ring in the New Year without the sight of Big Dawg in the stands, pounding down sour cream-laden potato skins in the middle of another Browns loss? If there's anything we're going to miss in Y2K, it's the dependability of the Browns, who pulled a beaut last Sunday in that heartbreaker to the Colts.

Hey, maybe in the spirit of the New Year, we can invite the Big Fella over to our home for a little gridiron-watching. Maybe order a pizza or six. Maybe knock back some cans of Stroh's. Maybe offer him a blanket and a night's rest on the couch.

Huh? Maybe?

Naaaaah.

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