The Bengals are on "Monday Night Football" for the first time since 1992. You wouldn't call the local mood celebratory. It's more like God-I-hope-they-don't-get-killed. Not to paint too rosy a picture. But it seems the Perfect Storm: Denver has the NFL's best-known running game and hottest running back. Cincinnati plays the run like a fish plays the piano.

Are we ready for some football? Do we have a choice?

There have been no shock-the-world pronouncements from Chad Johnson this week. Grandmaster Quote isn't doing any fortune-talking on this game, not after last week. "I'm going to keep it quiet. Next week, I'll be back to my old self," was the best Johnson could do. "If we play well, why not give it to us again? On any given Sunday, you never know what's going to happen." That's right. But this is Monday.

Any chance the Broncos might overlook the Bengals vanished with the timing. Overlooking is for Sunday. Monday is for showing off. That doesn't benefit the Bengals, either. Lewis has said his players want to do too much. If you overreach in Cleveland, if you swing too hard against the Browns on Sunday afternoon, what might you do on Monday night? Eric Steinbach was 12 the last time the Bengals played on Monday. So was Carson Palmer.

One of the few Bengals with Monday exposure won't play at all. Jon Kitna said of the experience, "It's as close to playoff atmosphere as you feel. Guys have to get that energy out early in the game. Guys who are predisposed to being overly excited, you have to try to get them the ball early to calm them down.'' Palmer will throw to Johnson in the parking lot before the Anthem.

It must have sounded like a good idea last April, when ABC and the NFL sat down and made the Monday schedule: Hot new coach, dead team walking, new young quarterback. How 'bout the Bengals?

"That was probably the thought," John Madden said Friday. "You try and pick those teams that were very close a year ago. (Lewis) got them going in the right direction. They've been kind of off the map for quite a while."

The last time Madden broadcast a game in Cincinnati, Sam Wyche was the coach. "What's the food that's so popular there?" Madden asked. Cincinnati chili.

"Yeah. Love that stuff. Chili and spaghetti," Madden said. "They have that in Green Bay, too. Pretty good mixture." When asked what else he remembered about Cincinnati, Madden mentioned Spinney Field, the Bengals former practice slum, where the 8th Street viaduct dripped a liquid that peeled car paint, and the air smelled like a disaster movie.

"It just felt like there was something being emitted there that you were going to live with the rest of your life," Madden said.

Some of us might say the same about the pro sports franchises here. Lately, our motto has been, "Expect the worst and you'll never be disappointed." Tonight, with Paul Brown Stadium full, downtown glowing and America tuned in, all we really want is not to be embarrassed again.

Lewis was brought in to resurrect a team, not a town. If he happens to achieve a little of both, all the better. Not long ago, someone sent Lewis a fishing rod, with a note reminding him to be patient. If the pole doesn't work, he can always chat with season ticket-holders. Meantime, coach, pop in that mouthpiece.

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E-mail pdaugherty@enquirer.com

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