It is a matter of record that, after a solid opener against the Pats, two-time Pro Bowl OLB Jason Gildon has been a non-factor this season.� Casting about for explication, such stalwarts of the local print media as Mr. DiPaola and Mr. Dulac have suggested any number of causes: Jason is repetitively double-teamed, opposing OT have slathered themselves with some kryptonite gel, whatever.�

 

The gel theory can be dismissed on logical grounds; surely, no alien-Superman, as would be a Krypton-bred Gildon, could conceive so clumsy a cover for his super-power as stud LB.� As for the double-team notion, well, anyone with a VCR and time on his hands can easily refute that theory.

 

Even the redoubtable Mill has missed the mark.� While, most often this year, it has been true that some Pro Bowl imposter is wearing #92, that masquerade arises from sources different than those purported in the weekly Dong Report.� The truth is disclosed in the following; be warned, that truth is stranger, and reality more frightening, than most might imagine.

 

As #92 showed in New England, our narrative begins (6) days later:

�

Oakland @ Pittsburgh

 

Hours prior to game time, after the sky had darkened but before the stadium was fan-filled, came from within the confines of Heinz a great and fearsome noise.� It was as if all locomotives that had ever rolled over the rails that once girded the site had returned, track-free and as mad, to careen to and so rend one another.� The sound was deafening until, at once, the earth opened at mid-field and from that rupture arose Lucifer, Lord of Light, followed by his hideous, doomed legion.

 

The stench was awful; as if all the meat animals ever slaughtered on that Allegheny island now residence to so many current Steelers had, at once, replicated their last, terrorized evacuation.� Oddly, Raider chief Al Davis was at the time ensconced within the visiting VIP box.� Seeing the demons rise, a sight so welcome to such as he, Mr. Davis got out of his chair, oozed through the box�s glass enclosure, spread his great scaly wings (previously concealed from view, if not from speculation) and rose to follow his darkling Lord.����

 

Heavenward flew that hellish horde, bent on what would be the final battle.� Came a cry from the Lord of Hosts, imperceptible to all but the great Gildon: �Help me Jason,� said the Lord, �Ply with me the gifts I�ve given you or, surely, we all shall perish.�

 

Whether out of his team�s pre-game meeting or from his high-priced auto, I cannot say but certainly Jason flew to the fray.� The details of this battle are, obviously, beyond mortal ken; suffice to say that what was a mere nick in divine time did spread over the term of that evening�s insignificant football contest.� Indeed, Jason did not return until early in the Steelers bye week.

 

Cleveland @ Pittsburgh

 

Though eager for the distraction of such trivial warfare as is Steeler football, Jason, too human and so exhausted by his exercise on behalf of the Divine, fell to dream this Sunday.� In that state he entered a temporal warp and so arrived in Egypt, circa 2700 BC, during the era of the Fourth Dynasty.� Seeing labor�s plight there, Jason said, somehow in the tongue endemic at the time: �Say bone-boy, let me help you with that rock.�� Came the priest-architect and Jason said: �Man, Chephren will whip your narrow ass should you build it like that.� Let me show how this gets done.��

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So rose the pyramids at Giza.� Having lain dreaming in his locker throughout the game, an awakened Jason apologized profusely to his teammates.� But flush with their first win and, as should be we all, grateful for the great man�s intervention against the demonic, his boyz were as quick to forgive as they were certain that from there on, with Gildon on-board, their shared direction would be straight up and over to San Diego.

 

Pittsburgh @ New Orleans

 

Hard by the miasmal bayou, or perhaps shrouded in the voodoo indigenous to the region, pre-game, Jason made astral contact with all the pedophiles, spouse beaters and child abusers who ever lived, or ever shall live.� Taking all that evil within, as did the immense savant depicted in the Green Mile, Jason, naturally, was incapacitated for a time.� Sadly for his side, that time stretched the full term of this contest.� Incredibly, for one series, the great Gildon overcame his affliction and managed to stop the Saints with his (nearly) back-to-back PD and sack.

 

�Pittsburgh @ Cincinnati�

 

Though the CIA and State vie for credit, the fact is that Jason Gildon brought the North Korean atomic outlaws to account.� Reasoning that nation to be the eastward end of the Axis of Evil and calculating that if it were curtailed, then that axis would be considerably shorter, Jason caught a plane to the Coast and then plunged into the Pacific.� While it is a long swim from Seattle across the great ocean into the Yellow Sea and up the Taedong to P�yongyang, that exercise is nothing for a man such as Jason Gildon.�

 

Appearing there dauntless if drenched, Gildon quickly cowed every starving, Communist functionary.� The rest is history, or will be soon.� Though the Koreans offered a flight back stateside, Gildon refused saying: � Thanks, but I didn�t bring a change of clothes.�� Shivering, Jason leaped up, kipped and inverted, then punched headfirst into the Commie palace floor.� Seeking warmth, he tunneled like a great man-mole through the earth�s crust, mantle and molten core back, back at last to Pittsburgh.� Sadly, the team was then in Cincinnati; fortunately, his mates were victorious and, considering the service he had rendered to all in the free world, would hear no apology from their captain.����

 

Indianapolis @ Pittsburgh

 

As is well known, since 9/11, the air space above Washington DC has been subject to regular military patrol.� On this evening, a snafu occurred and, for a period of hours, no fighter craft were available for this essential duty.

 

Somehow aware, Jason bowed his head as if in prayer then stretched both arms earthward creating an aspect of some 30 degrees each side of his (no-doubt) chiseled torso.� Outward grew Gildon�s lats until they bonded with his upper arms so creating a profile identical to any fixed wing battle frame.� With that, Gildon shot into the sky, hovered a moment to dip either �wing� in salute to his lesser mates and then made for the DC area so to shelter the night, that the leaders of this great Republic might take their well-earned rest.

 

It goes without saying that Jason Gildon was the motorist whose tip this week led to the capture of John Allen Mohammad and his stepson, the pair we all must hope were, in tandem, the sniper who so roiled our domestic tranquility.� This was light duty for Jason; while he regularly patrols the night, he seldom resorts to such common means as an automobile.

 

The truth is as stated above; the real Jason Gildon has been absent, and understandably so, for much of this season.� As a stand-in, the Steelers have employed one Junior Gelding.� Though once a Big Six CPA, Mr. Gelding most recently was employed in mall security.� While a dead-ringer in appearance for Jason Gildon, this man has little football experience and, naturally, he is utterly innocent of Pro Bowl level athletic ability.�

 

One may wonder why the Steelers employed a surrogate Gildon when, say, Clark Haggans was available.� Then again, one may wonder why the Steelers have employed (5) TE when they throw to, at most, (1) or why the Steelers didn�t move on Bryant Westbrook or why the Steelers tire themselves running down under (increasingly frequent) kickoffs when they could get the same results by simply rolling the ball OB.�

 

Surely the ways of Coach Cowher and his aides are inscrutable.� However, the truth of the account above is beyond dispute as is our certainty that, when and if events (secular or not) allow, Jason Gildon will return to measure Mr. Rooney for the thumb ornament that otherwise would continue to elude him.