What a surprise! Joe Theismann talking into a microphone. Ronald Martinez/Getty Images

I want to sincerely thank my loyal e-mailers who share my antipathy for the drivel that passes for football analysis. Andrew reported that there was a great groundswell of public opinion supporting the shots I took in the lower regions of my commentators awards column, particularly those addressed to the failings of ESPN's Sunday night crew. "Hundreds of letters agreeing with you about Sunday night," he said. Of course, I can only print a representative few, but I thank all of you who voiced support. And then, since Andrew has a background in sports TV, I asked him if any of this might have an effect on any of the network sports production people.

"No," he said.

"Well, what do they care about?"

"Ratings," he said.

So I kind of feel like a space explorer who has somehow drifted out of orbit and can only send out feeble signals, hoping they reach somebody -- anybody. But here are a few friends who have heard my signals:

Sean of Chicago's pet peeve is the way announcers talk through live action, which just about echoes my No. 1 complaint. He wants to know what my all-time, all-star announcing team would be. Irv Brown, an old-time third- or fourth-string ESPN college guy, doing play by play, Matt Millen and John Madden of yesteryear handling the analysis.

Lisa of South Portland, Me., thanks me for having the, uh, the guts (although that's not exactly the word she used) to point out the way everyone in TV land takes care of Brett Favre. She also points out that baseball announcers, including Joe Buck, do a much better job (agreed), and that she now watches the TV with the sound turned down. Good for the sanity, but impossible in my work because I need the identifications, when they choose to supply them, that I can't always pick up on my own. One year I tried watching the Monday night games accompanied by CBS radio instead of the TV sound, and it didn't work because I never knew when they were going to a replay, which is helpful to me. Anyway, thank you Lisa for having the ... no, I can't use that term for you ... for having the courage to make your views known.

Louie of Seattle (have I ever disliked anyone named Louie?) thinks I was too nice in my criticisms ... boy oh boy, that's what I like to hear ... and wonders why the network execs can be so blind to what's going on. Because these are the same people who keep filling the announcers' headsets with, "Work the story line ... mention Culpepper ... go back to Moss ..." etc.

And then Louie had this sad observation about the Sunday night crew: "That's the last thing most of us have to enjoy before heading back to work for another week." Now this is depressing. How about if you tape an earlier game and then put it on after the Sunday nighter, so something a little less objectionable would launch your week? Yeah, I know. Wouldn't work because it would keep you up too late, and you'd already know the score. Well, you could always kill all references to the afternoon games before you watch it, and by zipping through the commercials, you could do the game in around 12 minutes, how's that? Finally, do any of my colleagues write a similar report on college football announcers? Not that I know of.

Dave of West Greenwich, R.I., and thank you, saves his heaviest fire for Phil Simms. A hell of a nice guy, and a pleasure to talk football with, uh, with whom to talk football. When he first started, I thought he'd really be terrific. He was bright and informative and really enthusiastic about what was happening on the field. Now, unfortunately, he suffers from that familiar malady -- top-teamitis.

Dave of Columbus, Ohio, describing, again, the Sunday night show, sounds like I did before I discovered Valium ... "It's not commentating, it's just braying. I can't watch it anymore ... I just can't." Courage, mon ami. The season is drawing to a close.

Brad of New Orleans, however, is on an upper, thanks to, 1) the Orange Bowl crowd booing Ashlee Simpson, 2) my ripping the same old three villains of this column and 3) my reviving his fond memories of good old Ike B. Singer. He also agrees with me about the superior work of Tim Ryan and Ron Pitts. What more can I say? Thanks. Take care of yourself. Stay out of the Quarter during Super Bowl week.

The storyline, or what he calls the "scripting" of games is unhinging Will of Lewisville, Texas, and tell me, Andrew, did you really feed all these echoes of my own dislikes to help brighten a poor old man's day, or have I captured the mood, the pulse, the heartbeat of this great land of ours? "I feel like yelling at the TV," Will says, "' Are you idiots even watching the game?'" You see, Will, that's the difference between you and me. You feel like it, I feel like it and do it!

Ben of Bluffton, Ohio, comes up with a nice, snappy non-sequitur by Joe T. and Paul M. of the Sunday Night follies. A little lengthy for inclusion here, but reinforcing the point that these guys really aren't aware of what they're saying. Thanks for your kind words, incidentally.

Thus ends our announcing seminar. On to the Hall of Fame and its lack of recent 49ers, i.e, Fred Dean, Brent Jones, Charles Haley, etc. Worthy players but near misses. You just have to understand that they're not exactly coming up against patsies. I take pride in the fact that I worked as hard for a pair of Niners, J.J. Johnson and Dave Wilcox, as I ever had for any players since I've been a selector. And I'm very happy that both of them made it. My next project is a guy who has no chance, another Niner, Tommy Davis, the greatest punter I've ever seen ... and by actual count, this is the 958th time I've mentioned this.

E-mailer of the Week. David of Miami. I'll bet that if he knew he'd be in line for this fabulous award, he'd have included his last name. With logic and calmness he attempts to put a neat skewer through your faithful narrator.

His point: I say I admire the various passing records set this year, but not by artificial means, i.e., rule changes. But when I previewed the 1985 Super Bowl, which followed Dan Marino's record-breaking year, I mentioned that his records were a product of the 1978 rule changes that "crooked a finger" that beckoned QB's with Marino's throwing talent. Ergo, have I not liked any of the records that overshadowed the old, pre-'78 marks of 4007 passing yards (Joe Namath in '67), 101 catches (Lionel Taylor '61 and Charley Hennigan '64) and 36 TD passes (George Blanda in '61 and Y.A.Tittle in '63)? The implication being ... have I not liked any of the advances in the passing game in the last 26 years?

I need a new paragraph for this one. Linda, a handkerchief, please, because I'm getting sweat on the keyboard. First of all ... that "crooked a finger" quote: I'd really like to know where you found it, because I don't remember ever using that phrase, although it's a pretty good one. (A debating tactic favored by many politicians ... always hit on an area upon which you feel you're on solid ground, no matter how trivial or how far from the main point). Am I an old fogy who waves his cane at any modern developments in the passing game? Sort of. I didn't like one of the main architects of the '78 rule changes, Tex Schramm, and I felt that he did it not so much to improve the game as to create more scoring as a fan hype, to sell more T-shirts. But it's true that defenses really did have the NFL in a stranglehold, and I guess something had to be done. So I will say this to you, David, or Dave, if I may be so bold as to address you in the familiar, in retrospect I can accept the rule changes of old, up to a point.

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But gradually what they did was kill one of the respected aspects of the game, cornerback play. So I would go along with the rule changes up to the time of a few years ago, when interference rules really began to be tightened up. Last year they were eased a little, this year tightened up to the extreme, and the cornerbacks were effectively neutered. And in the wake followed all the TD passes and yards and points. And that's what I don't like. I hope you don't feel this is a copout. You have made good points and forced me to look at an entire 26-year spectrum of the passing game, and re-examine my own opinions. My psychiatrist will thank you for the extra business heading his way.

Where are we? ... yes, I'll have that glass of water now, thank you. Scott of Montpelier, Vt., wonders why an owner would let one person handle both coach and GM jobs, when the formula doesn't seem to work these days. Because the owners remember the great coach-GM's of the past, such as Vince Lombardi and Paul Brown, without realizing that it's a whole new ballgame now, thanks to the salary cap. But sometimes it's the only way they can get a desired coaching star, to give him his wish and let him generally manage as well. Part Two: Is there any correlation between a wine's cost and its quality? Yeah, a lot. Part Three: Can you get a really good wine for $15 to $20? Yeah, lots of them. Next time you're in the shop, buy a few zinfandels in that price range, invite some people over to taste them with you, record your findings and you're on the way to wine happiness.

James of Queens in NYC wants a return of the run 'n shoot. Where's it been? Mothballed because the great weakness is that the quarterback will take too much of a hammering. Too many receivers, not enough blockers.

Mike of Gambier, Ohio, appreciated the idea that Art Modell was not on my list of guys I favor for enshrinement. Imagine, an Ohioan who doesn't like Art. You don't have to worry because he flunked out in the semis.

Gary of Carrboro, N.C., wants to know why coaches seem to have such a poor grasp of when to go for and when not to go for a two-point conversion. Because a lot of them are using a chart that's outdated. The big change is that field-goal kickers are so accurate now. You can get lots of threes on the board in a very short time, and turn the margin upside down in a hurry. When most of those charts were created, the kickers were around 60 percent. Now they're at 80. A team is better off going for the one-pointers right up to some point in the fourth quarter when it becomes obvious that a deuce is needed.

Rene of Monterrey, Mexico, wants to know why Marty Schottenheimer blew it so badly against the Jets. Because when faced with extreme pressure, many people revert to what they once were instead of relying on what they had learned. And Marty really blew it. Let's look at the sequence that cost him the game.

The Chargers, approaching the mark of 70 scrimmage plays called, are driving on an exhausted Jets defense. An eight-yard screen pass to Tomlinson takes them to the Jets 48. Jonathan Vilma, the rookie MLB, misses the tackle. He is a little guy, and he's just about spent. For some reason they hadn't been relieving him with Sam Cowart, as they normally do. One yard needed for a first down, Brees sneaks for two against a worn out Jet D-line. On second and seven on the Jets' 43, Brees throws a circle-in pass to Tomlinson, who runs over Vilma, literally, for 10 yards. Then Tomlinson picks up nine, then Brees, needing one, picks up two on a sneak, down to the 22. The Jets are done, finished. All that's needed is to apply the coup de grace, another pass over the middle, a sweep, anything that would make the Jets run on their tired legs and move the ball into gimme field goal range. Chargers call time out. Give the Jets a breather. First bad idea.

Then Tomlinson goes off right tackle, a poor choice because LE Shaun Ellis has dominated RT Shane Olivea all day, and now he stops Tomlinson at the line. Then they hit the middle with Tomlinson, and two Jets linebackers sell out, shoot the works, and stop the play, and now it's pretty obvious what Schottenheimer is doing, killing the ball to set up a 40-yard field goal. Given new life, the Jets rise up and stop the third-down play, which positions the ball on the right hash, sheer lunacy, because 90 percent of all kickers want it on the left hash, or, barring that, the middle of the field. The rest is history. Very few times in my life have I seen a coach blow a crucial game situation as badly.

From Eric of Bristol, Va.: Does it help to call time out to ice the kicker? Is it a waste of time? What's the deal? Bothers some, doesn't bother others. Kickers, to a man, will say either that it doesn't matter or it helps them. Easy to figure out why. If it bothered a guy, do you think he'd admit it? No one, incidentally, ever has, to my knowledge, done a statistical analysis on the ice's effectiveness. I'd love to see one.

Sports Illustrated senior writer Paul Zimmerman covers the NFL for the magazine and SI.com. His Power Rankings, "Inside Football" column and Mailbag appear weekly on SI.com.