I had the family over to the house this year for the Super Bowl and it was a great game! The only thing that would have made it better was if the Cowboys were playing and the opposing team was a mish mash of every team I’ve been taught to despise over the years and we beat them 147 to 3.
Nonetheless, I love it. We all love it! And while baseball is a great sport, football is really America’s game! So after the last bottle of champagne was popped, I found myself a bit sad and empty…and then angry that the season was over and I had to wait a two months, two weeks and 1 day before Draft Day. I found myself dreaming of being elected the Commissioner of the NFL… holding a press conference to announce all my awesome changes for the league…
“First off, let me thank Roger Goodell for the terrible job he did as Commissioner. It’s going to be easy to follow in his footsteps.”
“My first change as Commissioner of the NFL is to get rid of these girly uniforms. Since when did teal become a terrifying color? The NFC will wear prison jump suits that come in a variety of shades of black and blood, while the AFC will have a selection of biker outfits to wear.
“Secondly, players will have to stop invoking the name of God after a victory. Many may not know this but God only cares about the Dallas Cowboys. And besides, there’s been way too many crimes committed already while God was busy helping the Cowboys win football games.
“Thirdly, I am going to limit all pre-game shows to 30 minutes, max. While the Super Bowl was fun, the 21-day-marathon-pre-game shows were a bit of a beat down. I turned on the TV Sunday morning to make sure I recorded the Super Bowl and the pre-game show had already started… at 5:30AM! I don’t think the return of Elvis being discovered alive – having been secluded for 40 years on an island filled with talking apes in the Bermuda Triangle with his lovechild he made with Amelia Earhart – could have matched the buildup to this game.
And the way the networks trotted out 14,000 neckless experts to dissect the game down to the molecular level seemed a little overkill…
“Howie, If Drew Brees sticks to his pre-game routine of 3 slices of bacon and a blueberry bran muffin, the Saints should be able to pull off an upset. It’s a little known fact that the very brand of bacon Brees eats is the same type of pig that Colts Defensive Coordinator, Larry Coyer, raised as a young child in Huntington, W VA. This should be a great matchup!”
“Terry, I think you’re overlooking the fact that we’re in the waning moon period of the 7th House of Aquarius. And as everyone with an ounce of football sense knows, Dwight Freeney’s birthday is February 19th, solidly in the window which clearly predicts that he’ll not only play, but have a monster game for the Colts. Now that’s some bacon we all can sink our teeth into!” (This would be followed by 3 straight minutes of inane laughter.)
“Fourth, as a part of our community outreach, the NFL will be selling Stadium Pals for use during the Super Bowl. It’s come to my attention that most fans actually pee during the big game so they won’t miss the commercials… and I can’t have that.
“Fifth, cheerleaders will not be allowed to cheer unless they are actually facing the field and watching the game.
“Sixth… players’ mothers will not be allowed to be filmed on TV. I’m so sick and tired of watching Ray Lewis’ mother cringe and peek through her fingers and moan, “Use your words, honey. Use your words.”
“Seventh…the number of interviews a player is allowed to be in during the weeks leading up to the Super Bowl will be in direct proportion to their IQ. Last week I sat through 49 different interviews of Jeremy Shockey. Here’s a recap of all 49 interviews…
“So how does it feel to play in the Super Bowl again?”
“Well, for me to put it into words, you know, it’s like, damn…”
“Eight… I’ll be instituting a no-referee policy for the NFL. The entire lot of umpires and referees in sports are useless. Even WWF refs routinely overlook folding chairs to the back of the head. Who needs these guys?”
“Finally, I’ll be ridding the game of that heinous crime called the field goal. It’s a travesty that teams claw their way up the field, crashing through two tons of hell-fury, picking up ripped hamstrings and severe concussions along the way, only to call in a kicker who probably doesn’t even understand the game. Most are from Venezuela or Spain where football is played without your hands and you’re always ripping off your clothes after you score. When I see shots of these so-called football players on the sidelines, they almost always have their back to the game, leg propped up on the bench, sharing a cigarette with a cheerleader. Then he sees the fans pointing at him and he turns around, grabs a random helmet, trots out and ends the game. He may as well come in and do a pirouette or pee for distance.”
“Thank you and Go Cowboys!”

