Well, that's the last time I ever feel bad about the state of my lawn. Whatever the turf (and I use that term ever-so-loosely) inside Ericsson Stadium in Charlotte, N.C., looked like on your TV set Sunday, I can assure you it was 100 times worse in person.

Think sand volleyball court. Think 10 inches of nothing more than dirt and hay stitched together by air. Think of a field one player rated a 14 ... on a scale of 1-to-10 (with 10 being the worst). Think of a field so torn-up and burnt-out that my lawn (groomed with equal parts crab grass, dandelions, apathy and dog poop) looks down its nose at it. Or a surface so dangerous and disgraceful it makes the one at The Vet blush.

Cooler-than-normal weather, the team says, prevented the original surface from growing, so three weeks ago emergency sod was installed and, well, it took root about as well as Marty Schottenheimer has in D.C. On Sunday the Panthers used a crew of 25 or so groundskeepers who scurried out during every break in play -- like beered-up single guys hitting the dance floor at a wedding -- to replace divots the size of throw rugs. By the end of the game the Sod Squad was just palming huge chunks of turf and heaving them, like road kill, off to the side of the field.

Packers QB Brett Favre said at times the turf was so bad it was hard to see the football before the snap. By the third quarter the 30-yard line looked more like an ellipsis. When a teammate asked Favre if he had tripped on a hole during a TD pass Favre replied: "Which one?"

This would all be a lot funnier if it wasn't so embarrassing for the team and dangerous for the players. Carolina linebacker Dan Morgan crumpled after a Favre stiff arm, broke the tibia in his left leg and will miss four to six weeks while Packers defensive back Antuan Edwards injured his knee.

So now the Sod Squad has 13 days to make the turf playable before the Saints come to town. There is only one way that surface will be ready by then. As a citizen of this fine city, if asked, I will hand over my secret lawn weapon: A 120-pound, four-legged fertilizing machine named Scoop.

Trust me, with enough Pop-Tarts and high-fiber dog chow, in 13 days Scoop could turn the sandlot inside Ericsson Stadium into a tropical rain forest.

E-mail David Fleming at flemfile@aol.com.