The Super Bowl is over and I have to say, I had trouble getting the bitter taste out of my mouth. I feel cheated. For months we were led to believe we were witnessing history as the undefeated New England Patriots were poised to complete the greatest season in football history and finally banish Mercury Morris into insignificance. Then, the unthinkable happened. Eli Manning orchestrated a tremendous fourth quarter comeback culminating with a perfectly placed over-the-shoulder touchdown pass to Plaxico Burress with :37 seconds on the clock. I looked at my roommate Nick and said, "They left too much time, Brady will get it done." Nick echoed my sentiments as we prepared to witness history. I was so confident that I waited to pick myself up off the couch and make the twelve step trek to the fridge for another beer. I waited to call my bookie and arrange for payment of the many (and I mean many) prop bets that I had won. I waited to call my father, who I always call 3 seconds after a major sports championship is decided. I waited to call my NY Giants fan friends and gloat at how Eli will never win the big one. And instead, the Giants front seven did what they did the entire game, pressure Tom Brady. Brady had no other option than to launch up a few prayers that all, ultimately, went begging. And as the clock read triple zeros, the unthinkable had happened. The New York Giants had defeated the mighty New England Patriots on the ultimate stage.
Disgusted, I immediately said aloud, "How long 'til pitchers and catchers report?" Which brings me to my next point: There are no 3 greater words in the English language than "Pitchers and Catchers". Those three words can single-handedly lift even the most down-trodden of spirits into euphoria. My calendar has had a countdown on it ever since my beloved Cleveland Indians were eliminated in Game 7 of the ALCS by the eventual World Series champion Boston Red Sox. Now, as we sit a mere hours away from the first Spring Training game, I embrace the frigid temperatures outside with the knowledge that a thousand miles to the south of me, pitchers are throwing BP, hitters are running poles, and coaches everywhere are spreading their tutelage to young, eager ball players. I know it's cliche, but it's officially time to say "PLAY BALL"
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1 comment:
You're twice the writer I am.
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