A couple of years ago, I coined a term that I fully feel belongs as part of the permanent universal football lexicon.
Now, this intention has morphed into a demand. I demand that you use it, that everyone use it. More than this, I insist that you provide me attribution. I can, if necessary, document that it traces back to me, and, of course, I’d hate to sic those copyright lawyers on you, so just go with it, OK? It won’t cost you nothing.
Specifically, us football studs have long referred to an interception as a “pick”, and, when the recipient of the errant pass manages to return it into the end zone (in the process recording six points for his crew) we naturally call it a “pick six”.
Until, that is, I re-designated as a “six pack”, which I am now doing on a formal basis. In honor of Super Sunday, 2021. Without fanfare, but rather, with determination.
As in “Stafford serves up a six pack to Sherman”. Which I’m not sure has ever happened, but which is now > 2x more likely — given the former’s recent trade into the NFC West: the district in which Sheriff Sherman is on menacing patrol.
So that’s it. Your QB tosses a pick and it gets run back for a touchdown? Well, he’s served up a six pack. Got it? Good. No need to thank me; just remember where you first encountered it.
And, naturally, it is possible to serve up a six pack in realms other than that of the gridiron.
Take the markets, for instance, where (it strikes me) six packs get served up all the time.
While the memory is still fresh, the late January short squeeze comes to mind. It was one for the ages, reminiscent of certain plays from Madden 2000, of which, in days long past, innumerable copies were sold at a retail outlet routinely seen at (now windswept) malls – under the banner of Game Stop. Here, there is no room for argument: the short sellers served up a six pack of epic proportions.
But that episode, for the most part, has run its course, and no benefit can be derived from piling on in this space. Investors will now turn their attentions to other potential targets – most notably (in my opinion) The Fed, which, by virtue of having printed heretofore unimaginable sums of money to purchase galactic amounts of its own securities, is in a position to have the stuffing squeezed out of it.
It’s truly frightening to contemplate, and it sets up as follows. The country is awash in Roethslisbergers (our one-time substitute for Benjaminz) – all suited up for the big game and wild-eyed for the coach to call its number. When the health situation normalizes, they will get their chance. It will be game on. Everyone will go out and fling cash around in “Hail Mary” fashion. The price of everything should rise, and so too (according to the time-honored protocols of the playbook) should interest rates. Which, by the way, should be on tap to climb anyway – if for no other reason than all of the paper that the Treasury will have to issue to pay for all the free sh_t that the government is dying to give away.
But what if interest rates do rise? With the economy in a condition of impossibly unmanageable indebtedness, the escalating costs of debt rollover/reissuance, and the losses that will accrue to the holders of all those obligations, are disheartening to contemplate. Under these circumstances, buyers of Treasury securities are likely to become scarce, so rates could rise at a blistering pace. Which will exacerbate the cycle of losses and inability to find incremental sources of lending.
So, my guess is that inflation or not, the Fed’s gonna have to buy a pant load of its own debt simply to keep us in the game. Just like the dude short all that GameStop had to do a few days back. And, as such, the Fed is set up for a short squeeze/six pack that will be highly unpleasant in its unfolding.
In football terms, its O-Line is buckling, the defensive ends are rampaging, linebackers and safeties have blanketed the middle of the field, and the corners are edging up. Diagrammatically, it looks like this.
First, the pressure:
Fed Balance Sheet and Crude Oil as a Proxy for Inflationary Forces:
And here’s what passes for The Fed’s protection scheme:
It looks to me like the pocket is collapsing. Can the Fed really hold the line until 2023? If not, it’s hello: six pack – Monetary Policy edition.
And, while we’re at it, a few more emerging six packs – mostly emanating from Washington (a town with a proud but nameless football team) come to mind.
Executive orders disabling pipelines and drilling? Six pack in the making. Energy capacity is already constrained, crude oil is surging, no substantial and suitably sufficient alternative fuel sources are available, and all just at the point when the country is fixin’ for a bull goose road trip.
Nationwide $15 minimum wage? A half a dozen cold ones waiting to be opened. So many businesses hanging by a thread. Others delighted to operate with fewer staff, additional offshoring and more automation. No taking into account the massive differences in living costs/wage rates across regions of the country. But 15 big ones an hour for everybody. Politicians will, of course, celebrate their own noble generosity. But nobody here, I think, wins. However, there are plenty of losers. The suffering economic classes that will find that jobs previously available are now out of reach. Businesses which will be compelled to either enact mass layoffs or shut their doors altogether. Though no one will listen, I’m begging our Congressional QBs not to throw this pass – even if it means taking a sack.
Impeachment? Bring on the church keys and bust out the tall boys. Whatever other forms one’s views may assume, an exercise to remove someone from an office he no longer holds, through a sequence that has dispensed with any form of discovery, pre-trial hearings, and the presentation of exculpatory evidence, is all so farcical that even the very unmanageable Chief Justice of the Supreme Court gathered his wandering wits sufficiently to sit out the proceedings. Which are by and large nothing more than a wasteful sequence of theatrical, political retribution. It’s all unnecessary and avoidable, but it begins tomorrow. 45 goes on the docket one day after Superbowl 55.
Six Pack. Six Pack. Six Pack.
But here’s the good news, my friends. In the markets and elsewhere, serving up six packs does not necessarily equate to losing games. The Fed in particular will keep chucking and may very well connect with its investor/receivers more than once, recording, in the process, what is likely to be a transient, meaningless victory. After all, given these investment conditions, the game plan largely forsakes defense (i.e. risk management); it’s all about scoring enough points to outlast your opponents.
In this way, the Fed reminds me of my former nemesis: one Brett Favre, the record holder in terms of throwing interceptions, and, for what it’s worth, the serving up of six packs. But to Brett, it didn’t matter. Because the next time he got the ball (after the ensuing kickoff), you knew he’d be coming at you with everything he’s got. More often than not, his tenacity worked to his advantage, so, justifiably, he’s in the Hall of Fame.
And every once in a while, it all works to perfection. You’re a receiver, matched up against a bigger, stronger, younger opponent, itching to show you up. The ball is snapped. You zig. Then zag. The defender ends up on the ground, eating his own dust, and your athletically gifted QB throws a perfect spiral that lands gently in your soft hands, after which you waltz in for the TD.
I can’t help but thinking that these are the moments that make it all worthwhile. But they don’t happen routinely, and often, we need to grind it out for a spell to set them up. We stumble, we fall, we weep, we wail. We gather ourselves, dust ourselves off, and try again.
We save some energy and other resources, because we know that if we do what’s demanded of us, in the end, we can, we will, prevail.
It’s that kind of market, kids. It’s that kind of life.
If we remember all of the above, then I’d say that while we may find the serving of six packs unavoidable, all things considered, we got this.
TIMSHEL