Mandatory Super Bowl Post31 January, 2009
I suppose I might as well do a Superbowl post. After all, it helps me keep track of how old I am — this is Superbowl XLIII, so I must be XLIII years old. Which is, um. Wait. That’s a ten followed by fifty, so it’s forty -, forty -, uh, forty three. I just turned 43. Makes life easier.
I cheer for two football teams — the Redskins (Dad was from the DC area) and the Patriots (Mom was from the Boston area). Since neither one even made the playoffs, I look for teams to cheer against. The Cowboys and Raiders missed the playoffs (YEAH!). I will gladly cheer against the Eagles and the Giants (NFC East non-Redskin teams). Then, if there are no teams to cheer against, I look for either a good story (Cardinals have been losers longer than me) or a classy organization (like the Steelers). So I’m gonna be real wishy-washy here and say, “I’m gonna cheer for both teams.” That’s not a cop out. If I have no compelling reason to cheer against a team, and a compelling reason to cheer for both, I will cheer for both.
Were I a betting man*, I would put my money on the Cardinals. I think that the Steelers will win, but by less than the 6.5 points of the line. And I would also put my money on the under. No way will this game hit 45 points. Great defense against excellent offense? Go with the defense.
Ah, screw it. I hope it is a really good game.
And I hope that the prayers, pointing at the sky, and other religious tripe are held to a minimum.
*I am not.
When I was in Basic, we were going through the initial shakedown for contraband and a sergeant asked me, “Private, have you emptied all of your bags?”
“Yes, sergeant,” I answered while staring straight ahead.
“Are you sure, private?”
“Uh, I think so, sergeant.”
“Would you like to bet on that, private?”
“Why not? Are you one of those born-agains?”
“No sergeant. I learned long ago that if someone wants me to bet, he knows something I don’t.”
“You are correct on that, private. On many levels. Your shaving kit still has something in it. Empty it.”
“Private, if you told me that you could make the Jack of Diamonds rise out of a deck of cards and spit cider in my ear, I would not take that bet. Because sure as I’m standing here, the Jack of Diamonds would rise up and would spit cider in my ear.” I smiled. I couldn’t help it. “Why are you smiling, private?”
“Senior year of high school we did Guys and Dolls. Uh, sergeant.”
“Good musical, private. Now drop, give me twenty, and then empty your kit.”
“Yes, sergeant. One, sergeant. Two, sergeant. . . . ”
He moved to the next recruit in line.
That line from Guys and Dolls is one of the good reasons I do not gamble.