Posted: Monday November 22, 2010 8:36AM ; Updated: Monday November 22, 2010 3:46PM
Peter King

MMQB (cont.)

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Stat of the Week

After Sunday night's win over the Giants, the Eagles are 5-1 in games Michael Vick has started this season.

Mike Vick may deserve the MVP after 16 games. But not after 11. Let's let him earn it, shall we?

As of this morning:

Vick has played 58 percent of the Eagles' offensive football this year -- 23 quarters to Kevin Kolb's 17.

Vick has thrown 55.5 percent of the Eagles' passes this year and started six of Philly's 10 games. (He is 5-1.) Four other candidates for MVP have started all of their teams games and have these comparable numbers: Drew Brees, 100 percent of his team's passes; Peyton Manning, 100 percent; Philip Rivers, 99.7 percent; Tom Brady 99.4 percent.

I can't imagine a player who's played 58 percent of his team's minutes on either side of the ball ever being in the discussion for MVP. Now, if Vick plays injury-free the rest of the season, and plays every quarter of every game, that would lift him to playing 73 percent of the Eagles' offensive time. If Vick continues to be the intergalactic player he's been in the past couple of games for the rest of the season, I could see voting for him, even with the major disparity of playing time. I'm not sure I would, but it would be tempting to do so, because we've seen what an incredible difference-maker Vick can be.

Factoid of the Week That May Interest Only Me

The sentence I never thought I would write: Dan Rooney is using Slingbox.

Rooney is the U.S. Ambassador to Ireland, and instead of relying on seeing the odd Steeler game on satellite TV in Europe, he does what so many travelers in the United States do -- he syncs up his computer with his home TV in Pittsburgh and watches the NFL on his computer.

"I have to be sure they never change the channel on me,'' Rooney said the other day.

Tweet of the Week

"Level 5 pissed right now ... One of my teammates stole my room key, flipped my bed n destroyed my room!!'
--@ClayMatthews52, Green Bay linebacker Clay Matthews, at 3:21 p.m. Central time Saturday, after the Pack arrived in Minneapolis to prepare to play the Vikings.

Matthews' Twitter profile reads: "I'm just an average American ... with extraordinary hair!!''

Mr. Starwood Preferred Member Travel Note of the Week

I have never liked JFK Airport in New York. It's hard to get to (except at 2 a.m.) because of traffic. Its eight terminals are spread out, making connections on different airlines a royal pain. The modernization of some of the terminals (like the one with JetBlue in it) helps, but, in general, you have to allow for so much more time flying out of there that I avoid it whenever possible.

Last Wednesday, it was not possible. I spoke to SI writer Jon Wertheim's class at Princeton at 2, then attended a program of Write On Sports, the invaluable New Jersey youth writing and mentoring program run by former Associated Press editor Byron Yake, in downtown Newark at 6:30. I had a 10:30 p.m. American flight back to Boston, so I figured if I left Newark around 8:15 and returned my rental car, I should make it just fine.

Bad misjudgment.

The airport is 47 miles from downtown Newark, on the kinds of roads they must have in Kabul. Narrow, potholed, very New-Yorkish. But I pulled into the Hertz lot at 9:15. No luggage. I had 30, 35 minutes to get to Terminal 8, the American terminal. With the airport tram, which travels between terminals, it'd be easy.

I got up the escalator into the waiting area for the trams, and maybe 30 travelers were sitting around. I waited. Six or seven minutes passed. Still no train for the airport. I found a red-coated attendant and asked about the delay for a tram to the airport. She said, "Oh, that's stopped for the night. You gotta take a bus.'' Grrrrrrr. No signs anywhere. No notices, verbal or otherwise, about the trams being closed to one of the busiest airports at 9 in the evening. Now it was about 9:35. I hustled out to the bus area. Two buses were there, waiting. I went to the first.

"Does this bus go to the terminals?'' I asked.

"No,'' the driver said. "Gotta take that tram upstairs.''

"They're done for the night,'' I said.

The driver pointed behind his bus, and so I tried the next bus. Same deal. Driver said I should take the tram.

9:39. Semi-panicsville. Jogged back into the car-rental place and asked how to find the bus to the terminal.

"No bus,'' the guy said. "Take the tram.''

"Out of service for the night,'' I said. How can so many airport employees not know the time when the tram knocks off for the night?

Car Rental Guy said I should look for a bus, and pointed to the place I had come from. I found a red-coated guy, who pointed to the bus that was now first in line. I ran there.

9:43. No time to spare.

The driver, alone, on the first bus, said to me: "I'm not going to the terminals. Try the next bus.''

The red-coated guy saw me come off the first bus, and I told him the guy said he wasn't going to the terminals. "Yes he is,'' Red Coat said, and he walked to the first bus and said, "Take this guy. Go ahead. You don't have to wait.''

9:45. We leave. He would have had to be parked to be driving any slower. After five minutes of him meandering toward the terminals, with me as the only passenger on board, I said, "Can we go straight to Terminal 8? Flight leaves at 10:30.'' He said no, we had to go to every terminal, in order. I asked if he could make an exception.

"You wanna get me fired?'' he said. "You gonna find me another job?''

9:51. Terminal 1. "I'll get off here,'' I said, and jumped off, and ran to the taxi line.

Behind a crowd of about 50.

9:52. Aaaaarrrrrghhhh. I forsake the taxi line for the limo line. I go to the first limo driver and ask if his pickup's flight has landed yet. Nope, he said. "Give you 40 bucks to take me to Terminal 8.'' Nope, he said. Can't leave. Asked two more, and neither would take me.

9:58. Back to the cab line. It's over. Got to the front of the line in about 15 minutes, and got to the Terminal 8 about 10:22. The American counter guy said, "You missed it.''

"Can you book me on the first flight to Boston in the morning?'' I asked.

"Sure,'' he said. "Let me check ... OK, 6:25 a.m. ... LaGuardia. Or 8:30 here.''

Grrrrr. Fifty-buck cab ride to LaGuardia.

"I'll take the 6:25,'' I said.

"OK,'' he said, and punched a few things into the computer, and then said, "That'll be, uh, let's see, $174.''

"For what?''

"Change fee is $150, and the rest is the difference in the fare.''

"You can't let me slide on the change fee? Your airport made me miss this flight.''

"Nothing I can do,'' he said. "But you might be able to stand by. Flight looks fairly open.''

"I'm not paying the $174, so I'll take my chances,'' I said.

10:56. With a crazy cabbie. We went midair a couple of times, I think. On the way to LaGuardia, I called my travel agent, looking for an airport hotel. An affordable airport hotel. "You got anything like a Fairfield Inn?'' I asked.

"Yes,'' she said. "Fairfield Inn LaGuardia ... $239 a night.''

Not in Kansas anymore. "Take it,'' I said.

The $45 cab ride, followed by the $239 (actually $276.58, with the tax) hotel tab, did buy me four hours of sleep. And the 5 a.m. shuttle to the airport was only five minutes late, and I did get a seat on the 6:25 to Boston, and it was on time. This didn't turn into Planes, Trains and Automobiles II. But I'd like to send along my thanks to the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey -- Sign and Tram Division -- for stealing a night I'll never get back, and costing me $321.58 out of my pocket for the privilege of spending another night on the road.
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