Of all the turnovers and screwups and suicidal mistakes that football is famous for, throwing a pass that gets intercepted is the most painful and crippling of all. A wobbly off-target airball that gets picked off and run down your throat is the most costly of football errors. Five (5) points, only one short of a touchdown, and two more than a fumble. The list is long, with many depressing subcategories, from “missing a tackle on punt coverage in overtime,” to running the wrong way with a loose ball.
With this scoring system, Brett Favre would have contributed exactly 30 points, all by himself, to the Rams’ total of 45 against the Packers last week.
That is huge. If one (1) interception can be fatal, six mean certain doom. The Eagles’ Donovan McNabb gave up only one (1) against St. Louis. That is five (5) points; the final score was 29–24. You do the math.
Kordell Stewart lost three wild balls (15 points) against New England, baleful 10-point underdog to Pittsburgh—but incredibly, the Steelers were still in the game with two minutes left. Or at least it looked that way—but in fact the Steelers’ disastrous Special Teams’ blunders were impossible to overcome, especially that horrendous blocked kick: it was a 10-point turnaround, not to mention a savage morale-crusher.
Simple mistakes are the difference between winning and losing a football game, particularly a Big game—read Play-offs, read especially Super Bowl. We are talking about small failures here—basic mechanical failures, mental errors, and blind spots of memory. Foolish laziness that nobody noticed in the first three games of the year will loom gigantic in the play-offs. A simple dropped pass in the fourth quarter will haunt a football player for the rest of his life and cause him to scream in his sleep. Those things will never be forgotten.
Indeed. There are many cruel Rooms in the mansion, and many deep holes in the Road. Keep alert or be stabbed. Of all the shocks and pains that every football season brings, the worst of all is the ending of it. And that is what we face now—this coming Sunday night, in fact, before the midnight bell. There will be no appeal, no extension, no replay. That will be the end of the football season, no matter who complains.
A few geeks will, of course. A few swine always do. No barrel is utterly clean. That would be atmospherically impossible, eh? And rest assured that nothing on this earth is 100 percent clean. Nothing.… Are you one of these people who honestly believe that Cats are clean? I hope not, because you are riding for a serious fall. Cats are filthy, and they don’t mind passing it around. The smell of a large cat (as in Lion or Tiger) at room temperature in a sea-level house is so powerful and so disorienting as to derail the human brain. The odor of a mountain lion in the wild is far more terrifying than the sight of the beast, even on a frozen night in the snow. It will literally “take your breath away” at 10 or even 20 yards. Your whole nervous system will seize up and be paralyzed, even your lungs. So stay away from all animals that are bigger than you are, especially at night when they are nervous. Even a brown bear will eat your whole body in 24 hours. Beware.
What? Why are we worrying about Bears at this time of year, right on the eve of the Super Bowl? I’ll tell you why: because every time I think about New England and Football and Patriotism all at once, I think of Richard Nixon and dangerous wild animals and his lust for unspeakable violence. Nixon was a football fan—and so am I, as it happens, and I can tell you from 44 years of keen observation that us football fans have a way of getting together, no matter where we are.
There is nothing supernatural about it, but I have seen it happen over and over. Football fans share a universal language that cuts across many cultures and many personality types. A serious football fan is never alone. We are legion, and Football is often the only thing we have in common. We recognize each other instantly even if we have to speak in sign language. No doubt it has something to do with the gambling instinct, which is also universal.
The next time you find yourself in need of conversation in some backwoods foreign airport, as I have from time to time, take this tip and look around for the nearest public TV set that is tuned to a football game. That will be your oasis, no matter how long your layover may be. You will get your questions answered.
Gambling is another universal language, along with simple mathematics, cold beer, and wild sex with Jimsonweed. Any traveler who is conversant in these tongues and football too will find friends in any town. Take my word for it.
It goes without saying, of course, that extreme behavior in all these lines is not recommended. Heavy drinking and berserk gambling among strangers will usually lead to trouble on the road, and you want to keep in mind that airport bars are no longer as tolerant as they used to be. Last year’s fun is today’s crime. Even tying your shoes in an airport can get you locked up.
It will not be long before all major airlines will require all passengers to disrobe and change into standard Hospital gowns before they board a plane. This is already in the planning stage, according to a lawyer from Miami who also assures me that sleeping gas will also be introduced later this year on flights of 40 minutes or longer. “The gas has already been market tested,” he said. “Passengers are heavily in favor of it.”
“What passengers?” I asked him. “Not football fans on their way to New Orleans, I bet, or people who have to write speeches on airplanes.”
“There will be no exceptions,” he assured me. “Only uniformed soldiers and police officials licensed to carry concealed weapons.”
“That’s good,” I said. “I have a machine gun license.”
“Very Funny,” he said. “Don’t push your luck these days. That’s why we have these new secret prisons.”
I hung up and crossed his name off my guest list for the Super Bowl. Nazis are not welcome in this house. They can’t be trusted.
So how about the Big Game, sport? Who is going to win?
Who indeed? But if I were a betting man, I would go with St. Louis by 10. I would even go double on that. Why not? It’s the last game of the year. I can’t lose.
—January 29, 2002