T-Money's Super Bowl Preview

OR, Nachos? Bean dip? Nachos? Bean dip?


The great American holiday is nearly upon us. With all due respect to Thanksgiving, the gorging on food, drink, beer, football, and consumerism is just up a notch on Super Sunday. When else is it appropriate to slam down a 30 stone on a Sunday afternoon? Where else could the terms "Bud Bowl", "Nipplegate", and "wide right" become part of the American lexicon? On what other day can you see Elvis Presto?...IN 3-D!!! It's a day for men to be men, and boys to be men, and women to be men, and Michael Jackson to appear on top of a scoreboard proclaiming, "heal the world!"


I have only been interested in the game itself as a fan twice: In 1995 when my beloved San Diego Chargers got ass-raped by a left-handed Mormon, and in 2006 when I screamed "Lofa Tatupu!" for 3 hours in downtown Seattle and lost my voice for the rest of the week. The game in '95 was so painful that I quit watching halfway through the second quarter and instead played Tecmo Super Bowl (the greatest NES game ever) in my tear-stained Junior Seau jersey. I was in sixth grade.

But aside from the 2 heartbreakers, the Super Bowl has brought me 20 years of joy. And I owe it all to one thing: the prop bet. In addition to my annual "you pick a team and we'll bet a soda pop" wager, I typically pick one ridiculous thing to root for. Maybe a safety (odds 1:800) will occur. Maybe overtime (odds 1:900). But my bet this year tops them all. My dad is in Vegas, and he has placed a $20 prop bet on Junior Seau, my childhood hero, scoring a touchdown (odds 1:500). If Junior Seau somehow scores a TD on his plastic hips, I will nail down 10 g's. Go Junior.

Other than old man Seau, I have nothing else to root for. I would root openly for the Pats if Tom Brady wasn't so perfect. I mean, even the coolest, most respected men on the planet have glaring flaws. Barack Obama smokes cigarettes. Tiger Woods has that terrible "Dave Chappelle impersonating a white guy" voice. Matt Damon was the star of the only movie I've ever walked out of. But Mr. Brady is too perfect. If you asked 100 straight men who they'd hook up with if they were forced to "gay out", 75 of them would say Tom Brady. (My personal choice is this guy). Mark my words: within 20 years we're going to find out something terrible about Tom Brady. His aura just reeks of Patrick Bateman. Dude's probably got like three dead hookers in his closet.

Super Bowl pick: Patriots 31, Giants 13.