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So we're a week into this brave new venture. Is it just me, or is this thing losing that new-blog smell? ...

Have you enjoyed the brief respite from the hosannas emanating from the Beltway about the return of Joe Gibbs to the Redskins' sideline? When camps open in a few weeks -- which for most of you means a reason to go on living -- we'll likely suffer through another Gibbs-is-back news cycle. So The Blog's cutting to the head of the line with Three Questions For Itself:

Can Gibbs coach in today's NFL?

Of course he can. The man's a football genius, and having won multiple points titles as a NASCAR owner, he hasn't exactly been sitting around watching the petunias grow while he was away.

Will he command the respect of today's player?

Redskins owner Daniel Snyder prays toward Gibbs' office six times a day. Think Fred Smoot's going to raise any hell?

Will he win this year?

Good freaking luck. Every team in the NFC East will be better than a year ago. Clinton Portis or no, Washington has to hope Mark Brunell still has life in those creaky, soon-to-be 34-year-old legs, because the O-line hasn't improved much from last year's unit that almost got QB Patrick Ramsey killed. And a Champ Bailey-less secondary? Yikes. ...

Meanwhile, a far more interesting return of a former coach to a familiar sideline has gone virtually undiscussed in Kansas City, where Gunther Cunningham, who coached the Chiefs to a 16-16 record from 1999-'00, is back as K.C's defensive coordinator.

You may recall Cunningham as the grizzled, heart-o'-gold throwback whose square yellow glasses framed perpetually tear-filled eyes. Cunningham's tears came furiously on Feb. 8th, '00, when the Chiefs' All-Pro sackmaster, Derrick Thomas, was killed following a car accident. Thomas's death hit Cunningham hard; he told The Blog during the '00 season he often found himself reflexively looking for Thomas on team planes.

The team never quite recovered from the tragedy, and after K.C. general manager Carl Peterson coaxed his weepy old buddy Dick Vermeil out of a year-long retirement, Cunningham was fired -- a fact he reportedly discovered while surfing the Internet. Devastated, Cunningham went to Tennessee, where he licked his wounds and helped coach the Titans to the playoffs three straight seasons as an assistant head coach/linebackers.

Tennessee coach Jeff Fisher and defensive coordinator, Jim Schwartz, were quick to laud Cunningham's impact on the unit, which was among the league's top-five rushing defenses in each of Gun's three years in Nashville, and his development of stud linebacker Keith Bulluck. Still, you wondered who might give Cunningham -- so desperate for another head-coaching gig, his jaw would tighten and he'd choke up just talking about it -- the shot he deserved.

Meanwhile, the Vermeil Era in K.C. was a raging half-success. Led by All-Pro tailback Priest Holmes, quarterback Trent Green, and tight end extraordinaire Tony Gonzalez, K.C.'s offense seemed even better than that of Vermeil's '99 Super Bowl champion Rams. In '02, the Chiefs scored a zillion points, but the AFC-worst defense was atrocious, and the Chiefs ended the year 8-8. Still, for a spell last season, defensive coordinator Greg Robinson looked as though he'd righted the ship. Kansas City roared to a 9-0 mark, and hit the playoffs at 13-3, hosting the Peyton Manning-led Colts in a divisional playoff game.

In the days leading up to the game, K.C. defenders talked about how excited they were to face Manning, to finally pull their weight by shutting down Indy's prolific offense. Instead, the Colts never punted, and rolled to a 38-31 win that wasn't that close. Two days later, Vermeil sloppily fir-, er, "accepted the resignation of" Robinson while shedding his usual bucket o' tears as he did. (Vermeil is the only coach in the league who makes Cunningham seem stoic.)

Who could've guessed those droplets were foreshadowing? Shockingly, Peterson and Vermeil reached out to Gun, who was offered the vacant coordinator spot. Stunningly, Gun accepted, instantly setting the NFL record for most pride swallowed in a single sitting. It says here that Cunningham -- one of the most decent men in the profession -- will get the last laugh. The bottom line is that K.C. only needs to be an average defensive team to win the AFC West. That should be a walk in The Plaza for Cunningham, a top-notch defensive mind and master motivator. Watch as his players -- particularly the linebacking corps of Shawn Barber, Mike Maslowski and Scott Fujita -- buy into his passion. It could easily mean a run deep into January.

(And should the Chiefs somehow win it all, prepare yourself for an epic cry-off between Vermeil and Cunningham. My money'll be on Dickie V., by a drop. ... )

Rightly, Gun will get the credit he deserves, and maybe, if he's lucky, a second shot as an NFL head coach. Gentlemen, start your hankies. ...

One more NFL note. I see that Brock Lesnar -- whom some of you know, however regrettably, as a former U.S. Olympic wrestler-turned-WWE pro-wrestling "star" -- is still set on trying out for an NFL team in August, despite not having played tackle football since high school. I'm sure the 26-year-old Lesnar is a nice guy, loves his parents, holds doors for the elderly, etc. But Brock, my man, I've got news for you: This is a really, really, REALLY bad idea. Forget that you're 6-foot-5, 285 pounds and ran a 4.75 40 in front of NFL scouts a few weeks back. Those are pretty stats, and may even convince a team to bring you in, give you a look. But don't be fooled. There is no athletic vocation more unrelentingly brutal than professional football. The game's daily ration of pain and violence and savagery will make your current "profession" seem like hopscotch. And when they're rushing you to intensive care after your first day of mini-camp, who's going to hold the doors for those old folks? ...

(Oh, look. Gary Sheffield just hit a three-run home run off Red Sox starter Derek Lowe to give the Yanks a 7-2 lead. The best thing about this week's staggeringly hyped Sox-Yanks series? I'm leaving the country in less than 24 hours. ... )

But not before first giving it up for the baddest man in baseball, the Dodgers' incomparable closer Eric Gagne. Did you see him send the Giants' Michael Tucker to the ground Sunday with a sailing fastball, one day after Tucker went after Dodgers' righty Jeff Weaver? I give Gagne props for protecting his teammate and for sending his message without hitting Tucker (which is to say, without killing him). You also had to love the way Gagne gave a nod to his French-Canadian hockey-brawl roots when he dropped his glove on the way to the plate. (Make no mistake: Tucker did NOT charge the mound.) Oh, and he's saved, like, 4,597 consecutive games, which is also a tad impressive. ...

Before I go, then, some quick hits:

Deadwood was an underappreciated gem, and just the latest HBO drama that was significantly better than anything the networks offer. Catch it in reruns, if only to enjoy TV's most compelling character (sorry, Tony S.): Ian McShane's spellbinding Al Swearengen. ...

Madonna has nothing on Mike Tyson, who reshapes his image more often than Ben Stiller whores himself in unfunny movies (amen, Albert Chen). ...

If you find a moment today, say a little prayer for Katherine McDonald, the finest, funniest and most loving travel agent you could ever ask for. She's battling the Big C in New York at the moment, and she could use the love. My colleague Stephen Cannella told me two nights back that Katherine would often book flights for him without his knowing, just because she knew when he'd want to fly. And here I thought I was the only one she did that for. ...

And now, I beat a hasty retreat to the prison of my own mind. ...