Welcome to The Cooler's new '04 incarnation: All NFL, All the Time.

That's right. Somebody at Page 2 had to take the "Hey, We Don't Have Anybody To Do the Monday Morning Quarterback Thing ... Call Murphy, He's Easy" phone call. I took it, from Big Boss M. Knisley; and, being the agreeable sort I am, am here to tell you, dear reader:

I love this game!

Wait. That's the Gheorghe Muresan NBA promo. Shoot. What's the NFL's promo line?

Because you know you wanted to see a picture of Gheorghe.

Oh, yeah. Now I remember.

Five seconds, man! Five seconds!

Wait. That's the Don Cheadle ad.

Shoot. What is the NFL slogan for '04?

Quick, let's go to NFL.com. Damn. Can't find it. I swear I saw an ad recently that said something like, "This is What It's All About." This is what it's all about? Any organization able to boldly derive any sort of tangible meaning out of the incoherent blur the rest of us call life ... is OK by me.

Well, then, fellow NFL honk, I'm on board.

Question: What do we call this thing, this weekly forum of All Things Tagliabue?

It can't be The Cooler. That's the all-sports/all-pop-culture Monday weekend recap, which has been in existence since November 2000. That's its own thing.

This NFL thing? This will be different.

Oh, The Cooler will be back, rest assured. Only first, and for the next four months, we need to kneel at the tiki god that is Pete Rozelle's carved image. As soon as the NFL goes into hibernation, The Cooler returns. Until then, I'm committed to a Monday morning NFL jawing session with you all.

So what do we call it?

I'm leaning towards "The Hangover."

Simple. Powerful. Accurate.

I'm open to suggestions, though. And feedback will be a big part of "The Hangover," or whatever we call this thing. I've even built a new e-mail address -- page2murphy@yahoo.com -- to cull all your NFL rants, raves, philosophical queries and betting tips. A reader "Question of the Week" will be a regular feature. It's all about you, man.

(Let's be honest: I created the new e-mail address simply for Internet porn reasons. But that's between you and me, OK? Trust is a must, fellow reader.)

I'm still open to name suggestions, but the early line is on "The Hangover" because it pays homage to a band of NFL lunatics I know down in Jacksonville, Fla. This cat -- I won't name him, so he won't get fired -- throws down what has to be the best amateur-run NFL orgy in the lower 48. He and his wife -- his wife, I say! -- start up the blender around 8 a.m. on NFL Sundays. Remember, these are the poor souls in the Eastern time zone who don't get kickoff until the ungodly late hour of 1 p.m. Anyway, my buddy invites his crew over, demands that all comers wear NFL replica game jerseys, and sets up about a half-dozen TV sets in his living room.

The booze flows -- interspersed with adrenaline-fueled, impromptu wrestling matches on the living room carpet -- all the way until Joe Theismann wistfully remembers the '83 Super Bowl near the end of a Seahawks-Cardinals blowout at around 11 p.m. Eastern.

This crew's next move: Out on the Jax Beach town, to a bar where karaoke is interspersed with an '80s cover band.

Now that is a party.

So "The Hangover" will address it all. And here let me refer to the back of an envelope, where I jotted down Burning NFL Questions for '04, topics and ground rules we need to lay down if we're all going to get along.

Here at "The Hangover," the following is fair game:

We'll lay it out now, real simple ...

Dick Vermeil will receive much love from The Hangover.

Coaches We Love: Herm Edwards, Tony Dungy, Dick Vermeil.

Dungy could talk us off a ledge, and make us find religion in the process. Edwards could make us run through a brick wall, and love the feel of mortar in our nostrils. And Vermeil would sit next to us and weep, while watching "Seabiscuit." Pass the Kleenex.

Coaches We Don't Love: Tom Coughlin, Mike Martz, Brian Billick.

Coughlin is joyless. Martz needs to be pantsed. Billick thinks he's Donald Trump.

Players We Love: Tom Brady, Steve McNair, Ray Lewis.

Brady is cooler than Paul Newman in his prime. You could chop off McNair's right leg and he'd say: "Coach, let me roll to the left on this next play." Lewis is the only guy who can beat a murder rap and make you forget all about it with his play. (I mean, besides Don King.)

Players We Don't Love: Eli Manning, Terrell Owens, Keyshawn Johnson.

Like we have to explain?

Teams We Love, Because No One Else Does: Cincinnati, Houston, San Diego, Arizona.

Like our "War President" says: Leave no team behind.

And there's so much more to dive into.

Kellen Winslow Jr. has a lot to live up to this season.

We've got The Oliver Stone Theory, alive and well: T.O. accused Steve Mariucci of not running up the score on Chicago three years ago because Dick Jauron is Mooch's friend. Mooch called the statement "devoid of thought." Three years later, Mooch hires Dick Jauron as his defensive coordinator in Detroit. Cue Rod Serling.

We've got a Rookie Watch, otherwise known as the "If Your Name is Kellen Winslow, Jr., and You Play Tight End, You'd Better Have Serious Game, Son" category.

We'll have an Al Davis Ticker: White sweatsuit, or black? And how does Big Al's sartorial splendor affect the Raiders' performance On Any Given Sunday?

We could be on to something big here at The Hangover. Remember, the forum is yours at page2murphy@yahoo.com. Fire me new categories, new topic lines. I'm only as good as you, my fellow NFL fanatic.

I'm all set, my friends. I've signed up for DirecTV's NFL Sunday Ticket. I've set up two TVs at the house, and both are linked to the Sunday Ticket, for domestic tranquility. The wife can watch TiVo'ed episodes of "Big Brother 5" while I watch Deion Sanders get twirled like a dreidel on the seventh day of Hanukkah.

This is going to be fun.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some karaoke to sing, and an '80s cover band to see.

Brian Murphy of the San Francisco Chronicle writes every Monday for Page 2.