WHODATHUNKIT!? The Three Things You REALLY WANT TO KNOW about Super Bowl 2013, and also the Nonsportsman! of the Year! (Nonsportsmanlike Conduct!)

Can you feel the excitement in the air?

It kind of smells like warm metal, unless that is just the smell of the stove which I used to cook a pizza last night and sort of forgot to turn off, and have been sitting here hoping Sweetie wouldn't notice, only to have her exactly as I typed that sentence say:

"The oven's on!"

To which I said:

"It's... um... off" because I had turned it off 10 minutes ago.

To which she said "Was it on all night?"

And I said "Sort of," and looked squarely into the Face of Disappointment In Me, which I see a lot these days.

So I added "In my defense, we were doing a lot of stuff last night," which is absolutely true in the completely nonsexy way it was meant, as last night between 8:15 and 9:15 while I cooked that pizza I also had to find a helmet for an Imaginext pilot, give Mr F a bath, clean up the house and go up on our roof and get the snow off the satellite dish, for the second time this year.

That's all part of the Wonder Of Super Bowl Eve, that and the little miracles like Sweetie noticing the oven was on at the exact moment I typed that it was.  It's little magical moments like that which we'll remember in the future, when we look back at pictures of Mr F and Mr Bunches, their eyes wide with the excitement of freshly-fallen snow on the lawn and the house brimming with the sights and sounds of Super Bowl Sunday, which today are:

The Imaginext Sky Racers show Mr Bunches is watching next to me:

And Sweetie's disapproving frown:

Note: I am not allowed to put pictures  of Sweetie on my blogs.

Which is not ordinarily thought of as a sound, but if you're ever on the receiving end of it, you'll know what I mean.

You may have noticed that I am not talking much about the Super Bowl in my annual Super Bowl post, and there is a good reason for that:  There's not much new to say about the Super Bowl, which doesn't stop people from saying the same old things about the Super Bowl every year, but it does give me pause.

Have you heard, for example, that there is a shortage of chicken wings this year for the Super Bowl? You probably have:

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 Chicken wings are always a story at Super Bowl time -- for some reason, people want to eat chicken wings, probably because people don't realize they were tricked into eating a garbage part of the chicken by the canny wife of a bar owner who wanted to rip off the Catholics.  True story, as shown by my linking to my Super Bowl post from a year ago, where, I realize, I started with the lead "Can you taste the excitement!"

It's hard to say something NEW about the Super Bowl, is my point.  Every year, it's the same thing: Chicken wings, the ads, the cost of the ads, whether Colin Kaepernick's biological mother is trying to get in touch with him only after he became a superstar, as she's denying she's not.  It's completely coincidental that she realized she wanted to get to know him at the exact same time as he was becoming an NFL star!

I mean, what are you supposed to say about the Super Bowl that hasn't already been said, mostly by me?  I've talked so often about how you can't even say Super Bowl that it's become part of the zeitgeist now:

and the trend continues, with even East Coast Liberal Elites stealing my thunder before I know I have a thunder, by which I mean: I thought perhaps I would post some great music about the Super Bowl only to find that The New Yorker already did just that, and it's a pretty good list, too, even though none of the songs are actually about Super Bowls, per se.

So what can possibly be said about the Super Bowl, or this Super Bowl, or any Super Bowl, that hasn't been said before?  THAT is the mission of WHODATHUNKIT!?, the only feature anywhere that dares to tell you what it is you, sitting there reading this, actually want to know, even if you didn't know that you wanted to know it.

So sit back, enjoy the ride, maybe put on some Imaginext Sky Racers cartoons for a soundtrack, and let's get to

WHODATHUNKIT?! THE THREE THINGS YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW ABOUT SUPER BOWL 2013!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But first, it's time for the NONSPORTSMAN! of the YEAR! award.  Every year, provided you don't go actually check that statistic, I have given out the NONSPORTSMAN! of the YEAR! award to that one person or thing who most affected sports in the year... without actually being an athlete or sports figure at all.

Past winners include collective bargaining, the city of Cleveland, Barack Obama, and asterisk, and it's safe to say that this year's winner will match easily with that elite crew to join the most prestigious, exclusive club in the world, the holders of the Nonsportsman! of the Year! award.

We begin, as always, with a stirring piece of music to get the blood flowing:

AH!  I love the smell of cartoon themes in the morning.

The runner up for Nonsportsman! of the Year! award, a position that in the past has been held by Elin Woods:

and...um... and... and probably others... where was I?

The runner-up for Nonsportsman! of the Year! goes to sports media!

Who demonstrated their dedication to not actually working for a living this year by complete missing the boat on a variety of news stories, leaving the "real" "reporting" to people like Oprah:

Note: Also not allowed to post pictures of Oprah.

And Katie Couric:

Note: did you really want a picture of Katie Couric?

to get the "real" "scoop" after everyone in the world knew it.

As I've said before, to be a sports reporter these days, all you need to do is act as though you are an SNL parody of a character in a sitcom based on a wacky version of a sports reporter.  Sports reporting not needed.  As long as radio shows can feature people calling in to talk about how they would, if they could, ask Ray Lewis what he thinks of Colin Kaepernick's being a born-again Christian -- an actual call on Jay Mohr's actual radio show,  which I recommend nobody ever actually listen to,

as long as sports fans are happy with stuff like that, sports reporters have the easiest job in the world, far easier, even, than 'regular' reporters, who simply have to cut-and-paste press releases into the newspapers nobody reads.  Sports reporters can simply take call-ins from fans, and make incoherent rants (i.e., "to Jim Rome it") and then be wrong... over and over and over again.

I listened, briefly, to three guys on the radio this week get ready to make their picks for the Super Bowl.  Before they made their picks, they said what their season record was picking games.  The records were 34-16, 25-25, and 27-23.

The best among them had a success rate of 66%, and he does this for a living.

Why is that so bad?  Because of this:  the home team wins anywhere from 55%-70% of the time in every major sport, plus soccer and hockey.  If you just picked the home team every time, every week (as I did one year for a football pool) without knowing anything else about the game, including but not limited to how it is played, you would have been right, in the NFL, about 60% of the time.

AND NOW it is time for the greatest honor bestowed by this blog, the 2013 NONSPORTSMAN! OF THE YEAR! AWARD which goes to...

 LYING!!!

I actually suprised myself there because my notes say: truth and I was going to award truth the Nonsportsman! of the Year!  trophy (there's no trophy) right up until I typed lying, instead, but I realized even as I typed it that truth cannot win the Nonsportsman! of the Year! award, because the award goes to the Nonsportsman! who had the greatest impact on sports, and truth be told (zing!), truth had zero impact on sports this year.

It might seem just the opposite, because, after all, we learned a lot of things this year that had been hidden from us before.  We learned that Manti Te'O didn't really have a girlfriend, we learned that Lance Armstrong had doped all those years, we learned that Packer fans have no idea what "cause and effect" is and we learned that athletes will spray deer urine on their muscles, which also meant we learned that the  only easier job than sports reporting is sports medicine.  

The truth, in 2012, was that Jeremy Lin wasn't that great a basketball player.  The truth in 2012 was that the Saints didn't really have much of a Bounty Pool and that the NFL couldn't do much of anything to stop head injuries.  The truth was that those head injuries were causing even bigger problems than anyone had suspected, including causing former NFL players to kill themselves. The truth was that Ohio State and USC had pretty good football teams that couldn't compete in the postseason because of things past coaches had done, while those past coaches enjoyed themselves in new jobs.  The truth was that playoffs sent the University of Wisconsin to a tournament when it wasn't even the best team in its division in the Big 10, and the truth about the Big 10 was that it had more than 10 teams in it and added some more.  

The truth was that Penn State's lionized, revered football coach covered decades of child abuse because he didn't want it to hurt the football program, and the truth was that in the end, it did not hurt that football program even after people learned that their unquestioning love of that football program was, in truth, a big reason why their coach could cover up all that abuse.

We got a lot of truth about sports in 2012.

And yet, what did it matter?

Are people not getting head injuries anymore?  No.  Drew Magary pointed out on Deadspin that head injuries may make the NFL more popular, not less. Telling the truth about his head injury cost San Francisco's Alex Smith his starting job, and so the world knows who Colin Kaepernick is.  

Lance Armstrong lost all those victories... technically speaking, but what did that matter? If you were in those Tours, you didn't get to ever wear the yellow jersey, and it appears that nobody ever won them, now.  Manti Te'O will still get an NFL contract and nobody is asking why a religious school helped cover up a huge human interest story fraud that might have helped Notre Dame play for a national championship -- this being the last year that opinions mattered in determining who was the number one team in college football, it couldn't have hurt that Manti Te'O had such an inspiring lie going on.

And that is the crux of it.

Lying.

The Redskins lied about their star quarterback's injury, probably twice, to keep him playing, and they made the playoffs.  Lance Armstrong actually won lawsuits in the past by accusing people of lying about him.  He isn't exactly declaring bankruptcy these days, is he?  ESPN got busted twice by Deadspin for lying: once hiring a con artist to write for it,  and once faking a story about how Tim Tebow might play on a Monday Night Football game to get ratings up. (That last link shows how most of the Tebow news this year was entirely manufactured by ESPN for ratings purposes.)

All of those people profited handsomely by lying.  They rose to fame, fortune, and glory, got to start in a national championship, got to head foundations, got to work in the sports field and go to Super Bowl week and mingle with legends -- a Super Bowl week that, by the way, has largely revolved around the story that it is the last game of a man whose career highlight is lying:

 

And lying about something serious: Ray Lewis was convicted of obstructing an investigation into a murder that remains unsolved to this day.  Wonder if they'll mention THAT when he runs out onto the field?  

Read this:

My nephew was brutally beaten and murdered and nobody is paying for it," Baker's uncle, Greg Wilson, told USA TODAY Sports. "Everything is so fresh in our mind, it's just like it happened yesterday. We'll never forget this." 

Only Lewis pleaded guilty in relation to the case: for obstruction of justice, a misdemeanor. He originally was charged with two counts of murder but struck a deal with prosecutors in exchange for his testimony against two of his companions that night, Reginald Oakley and Joseph Sweeting.

Lewis never directly linked his two friends to the killings, and they were acquitted. Lewis had testified that Oakley, Sweeting and another man had gone to a sporting goods store the previous day to buy knives. Baker's blood later was found in Lewis' limo. Having fled the crime scene, Lewis told the limo's passengers to "keep their mouths shut." The white suit Lewis was wearing that night — on Super Bowl Sunday — never was found.

"I'm not trying to end my career like this," Lewis said in his hotel that night, according to the testimony of a female passenger in the limo.

He didn't. For his punishment, Lewis received one year of probation and a $250,000 fine by the NFL.

  

That's an excerpt from a longer story centering around the feelings of a family that has never received justice.   Lewis did settle a $13,000,000 lawsuit brought on behalf of the dead man's daughter, for an undisclosed sum.

Ray Lewis has earned about $26,000,000 in the past four years.  I'd say lying has been very lucrative to him.  That $26,000,000 figure is before deducting the $250,000 for hiding what he knew about his and others' roles in a murder.

The lesson is clear, sports fans:  Lying is what winners do.  Not good people -- winners.  There is (now) a difference.  So if you want to play in the Super Bowl, hoist the yellow jersey,  have your Catholic school play in the national championship, keep your football program running, hit more home runs than anyone else, or otherwise excel at sports, take a cue from the 2012 Nonsportsman! of the Year! and lie like you never met the truth and would punch it in the face if you could, and you will be successful at sports.  

Anyway, with that depressing lead-in, back to WHODATHUNKIT!?, the BEST THINGS YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW ABOUT SUPER BOWL 2013, which is what I call it because I can't keep all those Roman numerals straight anymore.  

As always, WHODATHUNKIT!? eschews (oooh, fancy!) those common sports stories for the story behind the story, or, more accurately, the story that is way off to the other side of the story.  It is this post which is guaranteed to make you the life of the party by providing you with stuff to talk about that nobody else will be talking about at those Super Bowl parties, unless they read this post, which they didn't, judging by my blog stats.

Judging by my blog stats, only P.T. Dilloway and maybe Andrew Leon read this post.  But they are both great authors, so you should click those links and bookmark their websites and then go back to them after you read this post.  And no, that paragraph doesn't make sense if you think about it, so I suggest that you do what I do and never, ever, think about what it is I'm saying.

Instead, think about these three things that will amaze your friends, impress your enemies, and mystify total strangers who you approach at a bus stop and begin speaking to.

"Who was that masked man?" they will ask themselves, "And how did he know so much about obscure bits of information vaguely related to the Super Bowl?i"

Make sure you take off the mask before you get to your party! Unless it is a masked costume party in which you and your rich friends celebrate while trying to avoid a plague outside, in which case you are a character in an Edgar Allan Poe story and probably not watching the Super Bowl at all.

The rest of you, consider this: The First Real 49ers were sandwiches.

Or make that "Sandwiches."  Turns out that when gold was discovered in 1848, the first people to get to the Gold Rush were people already in California, which makes sense when you think about how information traveled back then (it didn't.)  But the next wave of Gold-diggers was not the Lohans (ha!) but instead were Sandwich Islanders, which might cause the bright folks among us (me) to ask this:  What in the heck are the Sandwich Islands?   

And also: Because they sound delicious!

The Sandwich Islands were the original name for Hawaii -- James Cook named them the "Sandwich Islands" in honor of his sponsor, the Earl of Sandwich.  

That man, the Earl of Sandwich for whom the Sandwich Isles were named, became the Earl at the age of 10.  In addition to possibly actually inventing the Sandwich, the Fourth Earl of Sandwich also was the Postmaster General in his career and held an admiralty position which he used to keep Cook exploring, and Cook paid him back by naming four islands or sets of islands after him.   The name only stuck until 1819, when King Kamehameha renamed the islands.

The Earl of Sandwich may not have just invented the world's greatest meal; he might also be responsible for Oldies Radio as it exists today; Ol' Earl created a "Catch Club" which would perform "ancient" music, which Earl defined as "any music older than 20 years," which perhaps coincidentally is the exact same definition my kids use.

CUE OMD!

On the subject of sandwiches, you're nobody until someone names a sandwich after you, some wise man once said. (It was me.)  So I went a'looking for a sandwich named after Colin Kaepernick -- maybe something on a pumpernickel?  And I found this article about how Colin will get free Red Robin food for life if he wins tonight, which would be motivation enough for me, and he might need the free food: He was paid $607,500 this year, which is superhigh for regular people but superlow for a football player.  

There's no sandwich I was able to find honoring Kaepernick, although there is one for 49ers coach Jim Harbaugh (the "Harbocalypse," featuring fried chicken, bacon, sweet chili glaze, avocado, and pepper jack cheese), and there isn't a "Flacco" sandwich for the Ravens' soon-to-be-more-multimillionaire-y quarterback.  

But all that is besides the point, the point being why is "pumpernickel bread" called "pumpernickel?" a question I would answer except that in reading up on it I became aware that it is possible to work as a scientist who develops flavors, a scientist known as a "flavorist," and if you had that job you would be called on to create flavors for companies that can't be bothered to rely on natural flavors anymore. 

It's funny.  People talk about the 'rise of the machines' all the time, but nobody ever considers the dangers inherent in creating newer, weirder flavors, flavors that might destroy all of humanity.  One site says that the FDA has approved over 1,700 different flavors, a stat I didn't find anywhere else and couldn't verify, so let's just say it's true and let's point out that since it is indisputably, scientifically true that there are at least 1,700 "safe," "government-approved" (SOCIALISM!) flavors in the world, we are about 1,690 flavors short on options for our Doritos.

Of  course, one of those flavors is this:

HOW GREAT WOULD IT BE IF YOU WERE TO SERVE DUCK-FLAVORED POTATO CHIPS TO YOUR GUESTS TODAY?  Soooooooooooooooooo very great.

DO IT.

"Hoisin" sauce, by the way, is "seafood" sauce.  "Hoisin" is a corruption of the Chinese word for seafood.  Those are duck-and-seafood sauce chips.

I want them and yet I REALLY REALLY DO NOT.  But kind of I do.

Back to the point of this section: What we think of as "pumpernickel" bread here in America isn't pumpernickel at all.  Traditional pumpernickel bread is rye bread that is slow-baked for a long time, with only a few alterations.  Here in America, though, we ain't got time for that kind  of nonsense, and so we get the dark, pumpernickel color by adding in molasses and some other stuff to rye bread, and then to make it taste different from rye bread, we add caraway seeds.

So our pumpernickel bread is a lie.

I say that just to keep with the theme of this post.  And also 'cause it's true.

Which brings up my final point:  Was there ever really a hasenpfeffer?

I say that because all that flavor-searching-around reminded me of  "hasenpfeffer," and made me wonder if that was really a thing or if it was just something funny-sounding that Bugs Bunny made up:

But, as is true of most weird things, it exists and was invented by the Germans.  Hasenpfeffer is "peppered rabbit," a kind of rabbit stew made by cooking chunks of rabbit in thickened blood, with spices.

Still hungry?  Once Germans came to America, where apparently rabbits were scarcer or perhaps harder to catch, they made squirrelpfeffer.  

(Perhaps, if you really have trouble getting chicken wings today, you could serve squirrel?  We have about a zillion of them around my house.)

Those funny pioneers!  Eating squirrels stewed in their own blood!  Ha! Ha! And they lived in sod houses!  We would never ever do that today.

Unless we could really pay a lot for the privilege.  Squirrel is being served in some of the fanciest restaurants around, and by "fancy" I mean "British," and also "gross."

This is from the New York Times a scant three years ago:

RARE roast beef splashed with meaty jus, pork enrobed in luscious crackling fat, perhaps a juicy, plump chicken ... these are feasts that come to mind when one thinks of quintessential British food. Lately, however, a new meat is gracing the British table: squirrel.

Squirrel is appearing on more menus, as at Fergus Henderson’s restaurant St. John, in London.

Though squirrel has appeared occasionally in British cookery, history doesn’t deem it a dining favorite. Even during World War II and the period of austerity that followed, the Ministry of Food valiantly promoted the joys of squirrel soup and pie. British carnivores replied, “No, thank you.”

These days, however, in farmers’ markets, butcher shops, village pubs and elegant restaurants, squirrel is selling as fast as gamekeepers and hunters can bring it in.

“Part of the interest is curiosity and novelty,” said Barry Shaw of Shaw Meats, who sells squirrel meat at the Wirral Farmers Market near Liverpool. “It’s a great conversation starter for dinner parties.” 

 Sample conversation:

HOST:  Hey, great of you to come.  Come on in, the game's just starting.  Here, have a burger!

GUEST: Mmm.  This sure is... unusually curious.  What am I eating?

HOST: It's squirrel!

GUEST *spits food out, punches host in face, leaves.*

HOST: He never even tried the duck and seafood chips.

The Brits didn't just serve squirrel in the olden days of 2009.  As late as 2011 they were serving "squirrel pasties," but they did that only because Elvis Presley ate squirrel as a kid. 

Here are a number of alarming sentences from a 2010 article about how Elvis inspired the British to eat squirrel:

"But I can't see squirrel becoming commonplace in the supermarket meat sections – it's hard enough to find rabbits in the shops these days."

"I'm told squirrel tastes like a cross between chicken and rabbit, but David Simpson, who runs Kingsley Village shopping centre in Fraddon, Cornwall, reckons it tastes like wild boar."

"...one drawback is that squirrels are difficult to skin: 'It's not like a rabbit where it slips off like a sock – you really have to use the blade and pull the skin back.'" 

 The Elvis Pedia has this recipe for fried squirrel:

Fried Squirrel Fried squirrel is a southern food that's quite tasty when prepared correctly. To cook a squirrel, first go out and try to kill a very young one. This is the most important thing as old ones are too tough.

When skinning the squirrel, make extra sure to remove all the hairs. -

2 young squirrels, skinned and cleaned
- Salt to taste
- 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
- 4 tablespoons butter
- 1/2 cup all-purpose flour

After carefully washing the squirrels, pat dry. With a mallet, gently pound the meat until the bones are crushed and the flesh is tender. Season the meat with salt and pepper. Melt the butter in a skillet (preferably cast- iron) over medium-low heat. Dredge the meat in flour, and add to the melted butter.Brown and turn. Continue cooking, stirring occasionally, until the meat is golden brown and cooked through. (Pierce with a knife to check doneness. The juices should run clear when cooked). The process should take 25 to 30 minutes.)

This is what they say that looks like:

ENJOY THE GAME, and make sure to bring your own snacks.

I say "whore" at least twice in this post. It's a good day. (Nonsportsmanlike Conduct!)

On Sunday, I'll do my annual Super Bowl post, now combined with the naming of my Nonsportsman! of the Year! 2012.  Until then, I've been reprinting past annuals, like today's, from the Super Bowl in Miami a few years back.  Turns out that with Former "Senator" Scott "I'd Whore My Daughters For A Job" Brown musing about a Senate run, this is timely again!  Everything old is new again, is my motto.  (Next week: I will reprint the Cave Paintings from Lascaux and show how they demonstrate the fallacy of the debt ceiling argument).

(If you don't like sports, why not check out the phenomenal ongoing serial story Electronic Fish Tacos From Jupiter Save The Day??!? over on lit?

*********************************************************************************

As I continue reposting past Super Bowl articles, I also want you to know that the other day, researching a post on what ever happened to all those people jilted by the NFL at the Packer-Steeler Super Bowl, I learned that Jerry Jones, Cowboys' owner's, real name is Jerral.

"Jerral," according to this site, is ranked 1185 on a list of the 1,220 most popular baby names. ("Somewhat popular", the site says.) It peaked in popularity in 1991 or so, when it briefly rose to about 650th on the list. So somewhere, there is a group of about 13 21-year-olds named "Jerral."


Today's recap is from 2010's Super Bowl and appeared first on The Best Of Everything:

WHODATHUNKIT!?: The Three Best Things You Really WANT To Know About the 2010 Super Bowl:

You know what one of the most impressive things about the NFL is, to me?

They can get closed-captioners to do what they want.

There are organizations that you assume have some power -- Wal-Mart, the people who make Zhu Zhu pets -- and then there are organizations that really have power, like the NFL. They don't go around showing how much power they have all the time, not in an obvious way. (Unless you count "suing everyone in sight about everything imaginable" as an obvious way of "showing how much power they have" but I don't count that, because I don't want to get sued by the NFL.) No, the NFL is so powerful that it doesn't need to advertise its power, and it does not need to make blatant attempts to mis-use its power, by, say, using its position as a newly-elected famous Senator to get its daughter a record deal.

Here's a question for you: Let's say you are a newly-elected Massachusetts Senator whose election was so improbable that it made national news and propelled you into the national spotlight, inviting comparisons to another newly elected Senator whose own election from a high-profile state had shortly thereafter springboarded him to higher office. Would you, if you were in that position:

(A) Try to live up to the hype by learning as much about national issues as you could so that you could 'hit the ground running,' or

(B) Use your national position to really push those issues you think are important and 'set the agenda' for a big political year for your party, or

(C) Immediately blow what little credibility you actually had by making your first official act be an attempt to use your office for personal gain by attempting to intimidate American Idol into having your daughter come back on?

If you're Scott Brown, the choice is obvious: Opt for (D), which is the secret hidden correct answer and which is "Use the office for personal gain through American Idol," and also pimp out my daughters and make jokes about how they might be whores."

Here's Scott Brown's idea of an appropriate joke:










But he made it up to Ayla by this past weekend telling Barbara Walters that his daughter's not a whore; instead, she's a disappointed American Idol contestant who would have won but she had never even worn make-up before, so she definitely deserves another chance or maybe the Senate will be investigating Fox a little more closely, if you get my drift.

The NFL does not need to pimp out its 17-year-olds or use its office for personal gain. It's already powerful enough, as I said, to get what it wants, as evidenced by the fact that this past week, I was watching TV while jogging on the treadmill at my health club, and the TV was set to a channel where the people on it mentioned something about the Super Bowl. I don't listen to the TV; I listen to music while I work out, so I had the closed captioning on, and when the captions got to the part of the Super Bowl, they read:

Super Bowl XLIV.

Keep in mind that closed captioning doesn't always spell Obama right -- I've seen it Oh Bamma -- but they used Roman numerals (the NFL's Numeral Of Choice, and the subject of a lawsuit the NFL once filed against Romans, trying to get the numerals called NFL Numerals) to number this Super Bowl.

That's power: Even if you're deaf, or listening to Karen O's All Is Love while you jog:










You'll know it's Super Bowl XLIV, and not Super Bowl 44. Or forty-four. Or Oh-Bamma.

The NFL wants to make sure that people get it right because the Super Bowl is big -- annually, more articles and television news stories are written about the Super Bowl than the next top 10 entertainment and sports stories combined, according to the website "Statistics That Sound About Right".

Don't go look for that site. I just made it up. But that would be an awesome site, wouldn't it? I call dibs.

So the NFL can't just leave things up to chance; they've got to ensure that their army of goons... I mean entertainment lawyers ... keep on top of things and control the message and stay focused and present the best possible story and do all those other things that somehow have completely eluded the Obama administration's capabilities so far, all to make sure that the NFL rakes in billions and billions of dollars... I mean presents you with a quality football game.

Unfortunately for the NFL, I'm not part of their media machine. Not for lack of trying; I'd love to be part of the NFL's media machine, making tons of money while sitting in Miami talking to Joe Montana about whether it's the catch or the throw, as Dan Patrick gets to do this week. Who wouldn't rather be doing that, instead of what I'm doing, which is sitting in my cold office, listening to Karen O's soundtrack for Where The Wild Things Are and getting ready to drive to Merrill, Wisconsin to argue about mortgages?

Not that this







Is bad, but it's no Miami-Plus-Joe-Montana, is what I'm saying.

Because I'm not part of the NFL's conglomerate, though, I am free to present to you the only article about the Super Bowl that's not sanctioned by The Man, that doesn't toe the NFL's corporate line, that doesn't just rehash all the tired press releases that Roger Goodell forces down the throats of those drones and lackeys who call themselves real sportswriters.

I don't do that, because I don't get paid by the NFL to do that.

By the way, Sweetie thinks Roger Goodell is hunky, but I don't see it:



Instead of meekly parroting back the NFL's tired stories like all the other "sports" guys do, I go out on a limb annually and present to you:

Whodathunkit?! The Three Best Things You Want To Know About This Years' Super Bowl (Super Bowl 2010!)

And you can tell I'm not afraid of the NFL, or beholden to them, because I don't use Roman (NFL) Numerals. I call the Super Bowl what I want, dang it!

(NFL, I'm sorry. Please don't sue me. I don't want to end up crying and destitute like the 72-year-old woman sued by the Redskins for not buying season tickets:

Pat Hill: Grandmother, real estate agent, and
deadbeat season ticket holder.


Daniel Snyder: Redskins owner,
billionaire, and the man who decided
to sue Pat Hill. Also, according
to insider knowledge I just made up,
Snyder asked the judge if he
could "eat her heart while
it's still warm."

But enough of this talk of lawsuits and billionaires eating people's hearts! It's time to get to the point of this post, which is those Three Best Things You Want To Know About This Years' Super Bowl (Super Bowl 2010!). Here they are:

After all this time, nobody knows what the stadium is actually called. Where is Super Bowl 2010 going to actually be played? Who knows? Not the NFL, which says it's going to be played at Dolphins Stadium. Trouble is, "Dolphins Stadium" doesn't exist. It's called Sun Life Stadium now, and like everything else in creation, Sun Life Stadium has its own website. Which also doesn't know what the stadium is called. Witness this very first line from the "History" page of Sun Life Stadium:

Entering its 22nd year of operation, Land Shark Stadium, originally known as Joe Robbie Stadium, was the first of its kind to be constructed entirely with private funds.

So, on a page labeled "Sun Life Stadium..."



...the stadium is called something else.

The confusion is understandable: Call-It-What-You-Want Stadium has been, in its time, called "Joe Robbie Stadium," "Pro Player Stadium," then "Dolphins Stadium," then finally it was called Land Shark Stadium to celebrate a partnership with Jimmy Buffett, who not only still exists but who also is the secret force behind this Super Bowl, apparently, given that last week he had dinner with Saints' coach Sean Payton and now he's responsible for renaming the stadium the game is held at.

Don't be surprised to see Jimmy Buffett filling in for injured Dwight Freeney in the second quarter.

I'm not sure how much Jimmy Buffett, or Sun Life, or any other company or person paid to name the stadium whatever it's called this minute, but I suspect whatever it was, they overpaid. An article in the Journal Of Sports Economics (we all subscribe to that, right?) suggests that there's a 1.65% rate of return on the investment... for three days, beginning with the day before the official announcement of the naming rights being bought.

You may be thinking to yourself: How can there be a return on an investment before that investment is announced? Wouldn't that hint that insiders are secretly spreading the word that MegaCorporation has just bought naming rights, and doesn't that mean insider trading, and isn't that illegal?

If you did think that, though, then you're part of the old world where investing and banking was regulated. In the new world, regulators date lobbyists, and Senator-elects get their daughters onto American Idol.

Amongst other legislative priorities.

The bottom line of that article -- the article I mentioned before all the nudity, remember? -- includes several startling conclusions, and by "startling" I mean "not at all startling if you remember that business executives have shoe polish for brains." Those conclusions include:

"marketing executives acknowledge that they have no way to measure the value of naming rights to the firm..."

"companies that own naming rights saw their stock values decline more than twice the Dow Jones Industrial Average in 2002..."

"our main finding is that naming rights offer no economic value."

Whew! No wonder Sun Life doesn't want their name on it. The study also includes a table showing that of 12 companies who bought naming rights prior to the study, all twelve had run into financial trouble, including 10 of the 12 filing for bankruptcy. But to be fair, it probably wasn't the naming rights that drove them into ruin; it was the fact that they were run by morons.

I'm sure things will go better for
YOUR company, Jimmy.
(Snicker.)

Did you ever wonder if there truly is a "stadium naming curse?" You probably did now, and, having now wondered that, consider this: The Dolphins were 9-7 in 2005. In 2006, the stadium was renamed "Dolphins Stadium" and they went 6-10. In 2007, renovation of "Dolphins Stadium" was complete and the new stadium was unveiled to the world. The Dolphins went 1-15 that year.

If they'd kept the name, the odds are that the Dolphins would have ceased to exist as a legitimate football playing operation (you know, the way the Buffalo Bills have). Luckily, in 2008, a new guy bought 95% of the Dolphins, and in 2009 the stadium was renamed. The Dolphins went 11-5 in 2008 and 7-9 in 2009, winning as many games in 2009 alone as they did the entire time the stadium was named after them.

Are naming rights truly overrated? If you want to find that out, don't look at some study published by academics. Just take anecdotal evidence, which worked just fine for Ronald Reagan. To do that, you only need to look at the Detroit Tigers, who are a terrible baseball team playing in a city that is so bad off that it is used as a stand-in for the Katrina-destroyed New Orleans in movies. The Tigers, not long ago, lost their own corporate naming rights' sponsor, Comerica. Instead of selling new rights over the fountain at the park, the Tigers donated the spot to the Big 3 automakers. The result -- an outpouring of support by the community and a pretty good year for the Tigers.

What Would YOU Do For Super Bowl Tickets? Remember the lady who tried to trade sex for World Series tickets? Didn't you kind of think her real crime was in making her offer too explicit? What if she'd told those cops, "Look, I just want to go to the World Series, have a beer or two, and, by the way, my friends say I'm really trampy?" What crime would be committed then? If it's no crime to decide to sleep with someone after the date, why is it a crime to let them know up front how the date will end up?

Or is it a question of how subtle she was in letting them know? There are are other ways of advertising the same message, the message that if you take that person out, you'll be getting some:

Last week, this read "Sun Life Stadium."

Anyway, because of that crack (HA! Pun intended!) police work by Philly cops who apparently think the biggest threat to their city is sleazy Phillies phans...

Book 'em, Danno!

... the world is safe for people who don't want other people to trade sex for tickets. Instead, enterprising Craigslisters are playing on guilt and other emotions to get their tickets. (No, sex is not an emotion.)

Like this guy who wants to take his wife to the game for their 15th anniversary. That's sweet, right? Oh, and also, he's a policeman! So, you know, you kind of owe him your tickets, 'cause of 9/11 and all. But just because he's a cop with a wife doesn't mean he needs a bunch of spam from you. Or, as he says: "I don't want spam or fraud so keep that shit to yourself."

Too bad you other posters didn't think to tell people not to defraud you. Caveat poster!

That guy is almost trumped by the fellow who wants to take his dad to the big game, and feels compelled to tell you that and reassure you that the tickets are not to resell. He even plays on your sympathy by noting he'll trade you his start/finish line Daytona 500 tickets, and pleads: "I hope that everything on C/L is not a scam." Expressing that hope makes it so, I'm sure. (But he didn't warn you not to fraud him, so feel free to at least try.)

Haven't started on your resolution to get in shape for the New Year? Why not trade those practically-worthless Super Bowl tickets for some fitness equipment? This guy owns a bunch of fitness stores -- but can't afford to buy his own tickets, so he'll trade you a Jumpoline for yours.

Those were all from the South Florida Craigslist. Things get weirder if you go elsewhere. This chef will trade his cooking services on Super Bowl Sunday, and says he's "looking to trade my time for anything of value." I know lots of movies that start out that way. Movies I'm not supposed to have watched.

I'm especially not to have watched
them at work.

In New York, you can trade your tickets for a Blonde Ibanez... but don't get excited, it's just a guitar of some sort. Also, in New York, we're back to guilt and emotion:


Looking to turn misery into something happy. Looking to trade a Diamond Engagement ring with platinum setting for 2 Super Bowl tickets. Ring is appraised for $13,000. Willing to meet at any jeweler for exchange if trader wants ring verified. Email me for more details/questions.

Maybe if she'd stayed with the guy who could afford to buy her a $13,000 engagement ring, she'd have been able to get him to buy some tickets to the game, too?

TV Saves The Day, As Usual: The NFL may want to crack down on realtors, as well as on churches that want to show the game, but it certainly has no problem with convicted drug offenders referencing its work. Home Improvement is among the many TV shows that have made references to the Super Bowl or built episodes around the game. In Super Bowl Fever, hijinks no doubt ensued when Tim Allen invited friends over to watch the game... but Jill got the flu! Here's a sample exchange:

Tim (about his Super Bowl party): I've been planning this for a long time, it's a tradition, honey.

Jill: You've never had one before.

Tim: Well, traditions start someplace.

Everybody Loves Raymond went to the Super Bowl, too, when Ray took Gianni to the Super Bowl, but then felt bad about not bringing Debra, so he ends up [SPOILER ALERT!][REALLY?][YEAH, SOME PEOPLE MIGHT NOT HAVE SEEN THIS YET AND MAY CARE][WHO ARE THOSE PEOPLE, EXACTLY?][I DON'T KNOW, MY DAD, MAYBE?][OKAY. CARRY ON.] inviting Debra down, and then tearing up his tickets to the game just to show how much he loves her.

Debra then goes on to place an ad trying to trade her engagement ring, and maybe some cooking, for Super Bowl tickets.

Not offered: Exercise equipment.

Charlie Brown went to the Super Bowl, and the NFL had no problem with it. Just like the NFL had no problem with The Girls Next Door airing an episode in which Hef and the girls hosted a Super Bowl party in Arizona.

Why does the NFL let TV get away with so much, when grandmothers, churches, and other so-called innocents are sued into submission for merely mentioning the Super Bowl? Maybe it's because TV has saved the day for the NFL, as shown in the movie Two-Minute Warning. In that movie, which might just be a documentary, a sniper who hopes to shoot fans at the Super Bowl is revealed on television by the Goodyear Blimp camera, leaving the SWAT team -- headed by Charlton Heston -- not much time to try to take him out before he can wreck everyone's day.

[SPOILER ALERT! FOR REAL THIS TIME] They fail. (So I guess TV didn't save the day, after all. But it did show us how cops and the NFL failed to save the day, which is worthwhile.)



That wasn't, by the way, Heston's only brush with Super Bowl fame: He also, as it turns out, played "Cat" Catlan, a quarterback who had previously led his team to the Super Bowl, but now, at age 40, ignores a tempting job offer (executive at an auto-leasing company! Sweet!) and comes back to try one more run for glory with his old team.

That team? The Saints. So after Jimmy Buffet lines up for the Colts, expect to see this as a surprise late fourth-quarter play:

How I watched the Super Bowl, in years past, because I am fascinated by me and so I assume you are, too. (Nonsportsmanlike Conduct!)

Continuing my review of past Super Bowl posts...

Here's one that I originally posted on Super Bowl Sunday on the Colts/Saints year:

How will you watch the Super Bowl? Here's some ideas -- plus some oddly specific predictions for the game. 

The other day, on the Dan Patrick Show, Jets Quarterback Mark Sanchez was asked how he would rather watch the Super Bowl: In person, in New Orleans, or at home. He said "At home," and explained that his reason was that it still hurt him that he wasn't playing in it.

Then, last night I saw on the news a story about a gathering of men who've never missed seeing a Super Bowl in person. These four guys (I'm not sure if they're a group, or just four guys who happen to share the same trait in common, that trait being an ability to spend a person's college tuition on seeing a game) have made it to all Super Bowls, from Super Bowl 1966 to Super Bowl 2010, where they were treated to a dinner by the NFL. (With ticket prices for Super Bowls in recent years averaging nearly $3,000 apiece, the NFL should've done more than give these guys some prime rib and a pat on the back.)

At the end of that story, which reminded me of the Sanchez interview, one of the men was asked about his prediction for the Super Bowl's score this year, and he said Saints 35, Colts 32; that comment in turn reminded me of an offhand comment Tuesday Morning Quarterback made the other day when he discussed things being "oddly specific" in sports and sports contracts. Tuesday Morning Quarterback (whose reviews of Brett Favre and Favre's performance would benefit from reading Malcolm Gladwell's article about how our attitude about a person can indelibly shape our impressions of that person's actions; TMQ's personal dislike of Favre makes him see everything Favre does through negative-colored glasses) commented in that article not only how he had predicted, in the beginning of the season, the teams that would make the Super Bowl, but also commented on the oddly-specific numbers, or numbers he saw as oddly specific, used in sports.

To TMQ, oddly specific includes setting a kickoff time for 5:28 p.m., as opposed to 5:30 p.m., and includes setting a contract at $451,000 instead of some other number.

Those numbers are no more, or less, specific than TMQ's preferred numbers, though: TMQ seems to think that there's something less specific about 5:30 p.m. than there is about 5:28 p.m., and he finds it absurd that someone would be so specific as to make a contract worth $451,000 rather than $450,000.

TMQ, in doing so, engages in the kind of uneducated snobbery he tries to decry; he feels superior to those people he claims are absurd for being so specific -- while not understanding that there's nothing more, or less, specific about either number: $451,000 is no more specific than $450,000. Both are numbers, and both are exact, specific numbers. $450,000 is an exact, specific number, and $451,000 is, too, and, for that matter, $451,929.32 is an exact, specific number, and it's no more, or less, exact or specific: In each case, the number is carried out to the same number of significant figures, and significant figures determine how specific you're being.

5:28 p.m. is exactly as specific -- because it's measured to the same degree -- as 5:30 p.m. What TMQ means is that 5:30 p.m. feels more general, and it feels more general because that's the number we all mentally round 5:28 p.m. to. If someone says something starts at 5:28, we all decide "that's about 5:30" and round it to that. Likewise, $450,000 seems less specific -- because it requires that we remember only two actual numbers plus placeholding zeroes, so we can easily remember it and it seems more general.

But people are oddly specific -- and they like to be oddly specific. Think of a number, right now, between 1 and 100. Got your number?

Mine was 43 (mine's always 43). I can't say what your number was (but feel free to leave it in a comment, if you'd like) I bet it was not a round number: I bet you didn't pick 10, 20, 30, or a number ending in 5, either; I bet you picked something ending in a 3, or 7, or 2 -- an oddly specific number, or one that seems so, anyway (because it's no more specific than 10, or 50). Ask others to do the same: I bet they'll never pick a number ending in a zero or 5 -- and they'll refuse to pick a "round" or not-very-specific number even though they don't know why you're having them pick a number.

TMQ, though, wants to make fun of people for picking oddly-specific numbers, so we can make fun of him for doing so because in the very act of making fun of the rest of us, TMQ has revealed that he's a pseudo-intellectual who doesn't understand the things he wants to mock. Numbers are specific only to the degree of significant figures they use; and people like oddly specific numbers, as evidenced by the score predicted by the Old Man Whose Been To All The Super Bowls; asked to predict a final score, the Old Man said Saints 35, Colts 32.

Why'd he pick those numbers, instead of any other two pairs of scores? After all, there are only a few scores a football game can't end in. A game can't end up 1-0 or 1-1, and that's about it; beyond that, all scores are possible. A game could be 2-0, or 3-2, or 4-3, and so on, with some scores being less probable than others. (4-3, for example, is pretty improbable because it would be one team scoring two safeties while the other scores only a field goal. Such a game is possible, but not likely.)

According to one no-doubt reliable source (an anonymous answerer on Answerbag), these were the scores for some unknown period of time in NFL games:

20-17 210 times
17-14 162 times
27-24 152 times
13-10 142 times
24-17 121 times

From that -- another set of Statistics That Sound About Right, a website I've really got to get around to creating -- it appears that the most common score in a football game, for one team or another, is 17; one team or another scored 17 points 493 times. 17 points is generally scored by getting two touchdowns, two extra-points, and a field goal (but you could get to 17 nowadays through three field goals, a touchdown, and a two-point conversion, or five field goals and a safety.)

The next most common score is 24 -- a team scored 24 in a game 273 times in that probably-not-very-reliable table.

So the most common scores by teams, according to that most-likely-fictional answer, are 24 and 17. If you were going to predict the outcome of the game -- any football game in the NFL-- you'd be smart to pick 24-17.

Which, by the way, was the final score of the first game the Saints lost this year -- to the Cowboys. They lost 24-17 in New Orleans, ending their hopes for an unbeaten season.

(Also, the Jets scored both the most regular scores in their playoff run: they put up 24 in a win against Cincinnati, and 17 losing to the Colts.)

With those articles floating around my mind, I decided to, for today, talk about how you might want to watch the Super Bowl by reviewing my own history of Super Bowls and how I watched them -- doing so because how I watched the Super Bowl in many cases, has turned out to be more memorable than the games themselves, at least insofar as I recall the details.

I don't recall details of almost any Super Bowl I watched since I began watching them back in the late 1980s. I can recall the teams that played, in most years, but I don't recall many specific plays or features of the games (or the commercials). Instead, I remember where and how I watched them, making those Super Bowls Past part of the history of my life, a yardstick whereby I can measure how I've progressed (or not) and see myself through the prism of time... and also give you (and Mark Sanchez) some advice on how to watch the Super Bowl, or not.

And, because remembering where and how I watched the games also brings to mind certain details of the games themselves that do stick out, I'll take my oddly specific memories of some games and provide you with some oddly specific predictions for today's Saints-Colts matchup.

I'll count them down from farthest in the past to most recent, and I'm not reviewing every Super Bowl -- just the ones that stick out in my mind. And I'm using not the NFL Numeral System preferred by the NFL, but the numbering-by-year system the NFL should use, because it makes more sense. Who uses Roman Numerals? It's impossible to remember which Super Bowl was which, using Roman Numerals,  unless you count by year and then convert to Roman Numerals, and I don't want to get math involved in my football.


1. Super Bowl 1990:

Teams/Outcome: 49ers 55, Broncos, 10.

Where I watched it: I watched this game sitting in the dorm room where my younger brother, Matt, lived while he attended UW-Milwaukee for about a semester before giving up on college. Matt lived in that dorm with a group of guys who had ridiculous nicknames -- names like Noodles, if I recall, and shortly thereafter left the dorms to live in an overpriced student house off campus, a house they shared with a ferret. I would have driven down to Matt's dorm from my parent's house, where I was still living in 1990, a fact I remember because I recall that in this Super Bowl, I bet against my boss, Todd, at the gas station where I was working, in Hartland. We'd bet on the game, and I got the 49ers. Our bet was that the person whose team won got $2 per point scored. What I recall about the game was that the 49ers just... kept...scoring, and I spent most of the game sitting on the uncomfortable desk chair that comes with dorm rooms, at one point making a call to my boss when the score exceeded 50 for my team.

Advice I can give you, and Mark Sanchez, about how to watch the game: Get plenty of seating, where ever you're going to be. The dorm room had a floor, two desk chairs, and two beds -- for a bunch of guys to watch a game. I staked out the desk chair early on so I wouldn't end up sitting on a bed next to a guy named Noodles, but either way, I was doomed to spend the game uncomfortably.

Specific detail of the game I can recall, and apply to today's game: That was the fourth Super Bowl for Joe Montana, and his first against the Denver Broncos, who came into the game with the much-heralded John Elway leading them. Joe seemed to take it personally, throwing for an estimated 53,000 yards, maybe to prove his point that he was the real great quarterback in the game. This year, everyone's talking about how great Peyton Manning is, and not commenting as much on how great Drew Brees might be by comparison. I therefore predict that: Drew Brees will take it personally, and will throw a touchdown pass of 68 yards.


2. Super Bowl 1991:
Teams/Outcome: Giants 20, Bills 19.

Where I Watched It: By this time, I'd moved out of my parents' house and into the mouse-infested apartment on 21st street in Milwaukee -- back when 21st street was still in the kind of terrible neighborhood where a serial killer could kill 17 people and not attract much attention. (That really happened, not far away from the apartment where I watched this game, and during the same period of time.)

I lived in that apartment with my friend Flan, who'd found the apartment and who'd taken the better bedroom. Flan, though, had gone to watch the game at his dad's house. I don't recall why I wasn't going anywhere to watch the game, but I didn't. I watched it at our apartment, alone, in Flan's room because he had a bean bag chair and the better TV and I assumed (correctly) that he wouldn't be coming home that night, so he wouldn't mind my using his room.

That game was before I really cared about the Buffalo Bills -- it was the start of what Cruella De Vil might call my magnificent obsession with them -- but I had them in my first-ever Super Bowl bet with my brother Matt. We'd bet $50 plus a team jersey, and I had the Bills.

I fell asleep in the third quarter of the game -- that was the start of my habit of doing that, too -- and woke up only for the final drive, where the Bills got the ball not-quite-close-enough for a final field goal attempt that went wide right, sending the Bills on to loserville for four years.

That's something funny about championships: Two teams make them, only one wins -- and the loser is often deemed to be terrible, the butt of jokes for years and years. The Bills went to four straight championships, lost all four, and are deemed synonymous with failure. Only in America, and particularly only in football, can you finish second four years running and be deemed a loser. Teams that never make the playoffs get more respect than teams that get there and lose, and America needs to do something about that. As Jerry Seinfeld noted, though, people hate silver medal winners and second place finishers: Silver medalists, he said, are awarded for being the best loser -- nobody lost ahead of them. "Congratulations," he said, "You almost won."

Advice I Can Give You and Mark Sanchez About Watching The Super Bowl Based On This Game: While Flan's bean bag was comfortable enough, and his TV nice enough, it was awkward sitting in someone's bedroom, without their knowledge, watching a game. I'd say not to do it.

Specific detail of the game I can recall, and apply to today's game: Not being a big Bills fan -- yet-- I wasn't terribly upset when they lost because the game at least had an exciting ending to it. (I was more upset about the $50 plus the jersey. Those jerseys are expensive.) But I do recall the kick, that being one of the more dramatic moments in Super Bowl history -- and it was destined to be so, no matter how it turned out, because people think in terms of one-play outcomes (but that's for another day.) Missed field goals are a hallmark of this year's playoffs, too, and so I will make the oddly specific prediction that The Colts' kicker will miss a field goal, wide right, from 43 yards out.

(I told you, my random number is always 43.)


3. Super Bowl 1997/1999:

Teams/Outcomes: 1997: Packers 35, Patriots 21/1999: Broncos 34, Falcons 19.

Where I Watched It: I've lumped these two together because they marked the two of the three Super Bowl parties I've ever attended or thrown. I watched the Packers-Patriots Super Bowl with a group of law students at a friend's house, with about 20 or 30 people there, including a bunch of people I didn't know. I watched the Broncos-Falcons Super Bowl at Sweetie's apartment, about a year after we started dating, with a bunch of friends we'd invited over for the occasion.

In each case, the Super Bowl was less than fun; watching a game with a group of people, whether or not they're close friends, means distractions from the game, or, to put it another way, it means not watching the game. When you get a group of people together, they talk and make comments and a part of your attention is diverted from watching the game to conversing with them (and to making sure nobody takes your seat when you get up to get more snacks)(and to making sure that nobody notices how often you get up to get snacks.)

Sporting events are strange that way: While you might get friends together for any number of let's-watch-this type of evenings, only sports are deemed "Things You Can Distract Others From Watching."  Imagine if your friends invited you over for a movie night, and throughout the movie you kept talking, about the movie and the things the movie reminded you of and your job and how tired you were going to be the next day, and other movies you'd seen. They'd throw you out.

But invite friends over for a Super Bowl, and they'll talk. And talk. And, probably, keep track of just how many snacks you're eating. The idea, I think, is that you're not supposed to watch sports, really -- it's just a mechanism to get people into the same room, the way "lettuce" is a mechanism to get "salad dressing" into my mouth.

I don't like that -- when I decide to watch a game, I want to watch it, and I mostly only talk (just a little) about the things going on in the game. Granted, a football game doesn't require the same level of attention and focus that, say, the movie Memento does, but still: I want to watch the game, not talk about your dumb job.

Another note: For the Broncos/Falcons game, I invented a pool called "Super Bowl Bingo," a Bingo game featuring squares marked with stuff that could happen during the game or commercials, things like The AFC kicks a 30+ yard field goal. I thought that'd be a fun way to bet on the game with all our friends, more fun than a "Final score" pool. I was wrong. Super Bowl Bingo was a disaster, as it meant that nobody could watch the game -- they were constantly checking their Bingo Cards: Was that a 5-yard run? To the left? Did that commercial have a green car in it? And they talked more -- distracting me from the game.

Advice I Can Give You and Mark Sanchez About Watching The Super Bowl Based On This Game: Don't watch it with others. And, if you do, don't worry how many Seven Layer Bars someone's eating. That's their business, not yours. Also: Make your Super Bowl bets simple.

Specific detail of the game I can recall, and apply to today's game: I don't recall a single moment of the Broncos/Falcons Super Bowl -- Bingo distracted me far too much. As for the Packers' Super Bowl, the game began with a first-play, or early-play, long touchdown pass for Brett Favre's Green Bay Packers. But I've already predicted one of those. That game also featured Desmond Howard running back a kickoff for a touchdown, something that's happened in other Super Bowl. There have been blocked punts in the Super Bowl, too, but never a Blocked Punt Returned For A Touchdown, so I'm going to predict this: The Saints Will Block a Colts Punt, and Return the Punt 43 yards for a touchdown.

4. Super Bowl 2007:

Teams/Outcome: Colts 29, Bears 17.

Where I Watched It: This game, I watched at our house with the then-they-really-were-babies Babies!, who'd been born just a few months before. We watched it downstairs in our family room, on the big screen TV we'd splurged and bought for the family (justifying it, back then, by noting that Sweetie really liked to watch movies and The Boy and I liked sports, so it made sense for us to spend a lot of money on a big-screen TV for those purposes. Nowadays, though, Sweetie rarely watches TV downstairs, preferring, if she's going to watch TV, to do it up in our room away from the mess and noise. The Boy, meanwhile, used his own money to buy himself a Playstation 3 and a fancy TV and watches almost everything in his room. Our big-screen TV is mostly used, these days, to watch Little Einsteins.)

What I remember most about this game is that going in, I had my annual bet with The Boy in which we both, at the start of the playoffs, pick teams we think will win -- dividing the playoff teams up evenly and betting a t-shirt on the outcome. I had both the Colts and the Bears before the Super Bowl -- so I was guaranteed a win. But Sweetie was on The Boy's team (I had Mr F and Mr Bunches and Middle), and she likes the Colts, so I let them have the Colts anyway, but they had to give me odds -- if the Bears won, I'd get a sweatshirt, not a t-shirt.

Then, Devin Hester returned the opening kickoff for a touchdown, and I celebrated and began rubbing it in: You're going to lose, I taunted The Boy, only to watch as the Bears faded away little by little, leaving me buying Sweetie and The Boy Colts' t-shirts.

Also, midway through the game, we had to go give the Babies! a bath and put them to bed, so I missed a chunk of it.

Advice I Can Give You and Mark Sanchez About Watching The Super Bowl Based On This Game: Have your Babies! bathed ahead of time, and set the game to tape. You may not think you're going to get pulled away from the TV, but what if you are? And you miss the most dramatic moment in Super Bowl history? And the next day, everyone's talking about it and you have to say What? I missed that, I guess. That always happens to me. (It happened, in fact, with the Janet Jackson halftime show -- which I watched most of before going to get more food, missing Nipplegate. I didn't even know anything had happened until after work the next day, when I heard something on the radio while driving home.)

Specific detail of the game I can recall, and apply to today's game: Devin Hester's runback, which I'm pretty sure was the first play of the game. That was the fastest score ever to start the game. I'm going to go opposite, here. The longest time passed in a Super Bowl before a score, ever, was 26 minutes, 55 seconds (The Panthers vs. the Patriots*, Super Bowl 2004). I'm going to predict that The First Score Won't Happen Until 2 minutes Into The Third Quarter.

5. Super Bowl 2008:
Teams/Outcome: Giants 17, Patriots* 14.

Where I Watched The Game: Again, I watched it in my own house, with just the family, including the Babies, who were now 1 1/2 years old. The two most memorable things about this game were that, first, I was rooting against the team I had in the bet: I'd ended up with the Patriots* as my entry, and I didn't want them to win, because they're cheaters. I'd never liked the Giants and Eli Manning very much, so I found myself in the odd role of having to root for a team I didn't like, with a quarterback I didn't like, against a team that, if they won, I'd get a t-shirt. (But they'd be 19-0 and I didn't want cheaters to get rewarded, so I rooted against them.)

The other thing I remember is that we had to be very quiet in rooting: Mr F was almost a year-and-a-half, and was becoming a bit of a nervous boy who didn't like loud noises. We didn't know that, yet, as Mr F hadn't been exposed to a great many surprises in his 16 or so months of living. He was, that night, when Eli Manning threw that great pass and David Tyree made that great catch, and we all jumped up and cheered and yelled and Mr F burst into tears and tried to go hide. After that, we all had to cheer quietly, so as great things happened, we'd whisper Yeah! or Excellent! while being very careful not to startle Mr F.

Advice I Can Give You and Mark Sanchez About Watching The Super Bowl Based On This Game: It's very hard to whisper a cheer. Practice it. Or put a movie on for the Babies! upstairs, so they can watch without getting scared. I'm surprised I didn't think of that.

Specific detail of the game I can recall, and apply to today's game: The David Tyree catch, of course, sticks out in my mind -- more so than the touchdown reception that put the Giants ahead for good shortly thereafter. It was an improbable, thrilling, spontaneous moment that came at a time of the game when tension was high, earning it a spot in the most-memorable-plays pantheon. How many Super Bowls can you say that about?

In all the Super Bowls I've watched, only a handful of plays stick out: Wide right. Tyree's catch. Santonio Holmes' TD last year against the Cardinals, arms outstretched, toes dragging. Favre's long pass against the Patriots, and his run down the field to celebrate. Don Beebe chasing after Leon Lett to knock the ball out of his hand just before the end zone -- a startling, admirable display of effort in a foregone game. That's about all that springs to mind. So the odds are that there will not be a memorable play in this game -- after XLIV Super Bowls, I can only remember a few great plays, making great plays a statistical improbability in the Super Bowl, but I'll go ahead and predict an oddly specific great play, anyway -- and, like I always go for 43, I'm going to go for my usual suspect here, too: The Fake Punt. I therefore predict that there will be a fake punt for a TD, and that it'll come from the Saints. In the fourth quarter. With 5:33 left on the game clock. On fourth-and-two.

(How's that for oddly specific, TMQ?)

As for where I'll be watching the game, I've applied all my lessons, and here's the plan for the game: I'm watching it at home, on our big-screen TV, with just immediate family. We've got plenty of seating:  Two couches and two chairs. We've got snacks ready to go, the kind of food that just needs to be heated up or put in a bowl and the kind of food that can be piled on a plate to reduce the number of trips to the kitchen to get more, reducing the people monitoring me. I've already set the game to tape, ready for Babies!-style distractions of any sort.

Which leads me to my final oddly-specific prediction: I predict that during the game, there will be three spills on the carpet, at least one of which will leave a stain. There will be two times that The Boy complains about me pausing the game to go take care of the Babies!, one of which pauses will be engendered by Mr F being pantless. And there will be three commercials about which Sweetie declares Terry Tate was better.

She's right: He was.