Note: The quotes in this article are fictional.
All hail the New England Patriots, winners of Super Bowl XXXIX, their third Super Bowl victory in four years. But pity poor Terrell Owens, who, apparently, is loved enough by God to allow him to play with an injured ankle, but not loved enough by the Man Upstairs to grace Owens with a Super Bowl title.
"Jesus Christ! It's about time somebody put it into perspective," says God. "I don't give a damn about professional sports. Do all these athletes really think I've got time to determine who plays well and who wins when I've got holy wars, genocide, Pat Robertson, and the Christian Coalition to deal with? Thine plate is fulleth, so congratulations, New England Patriots. You had no help from me. You did it all yourself. And kudos to you, T.O.; you healed your ankle with hard work and perseverance. Hell, I didn't even know your ankle was hurt until Mother Theresa filled me in. You guys should pray to Momma T. She loves her sports."
Wow! It's quite exhilarating to have God speak through me. Almost as energizing as that exorcism I got as a birthday present 20 years ago. But let's get back to football.
As expected, the Patriots did everything they needed to win. They never allowed the Eagles to establish a running game, and Donovan McNabb never found a comfortable pocket presence, despite passing for 357 yards and three touchdowns. New England forced the big turnovers, limited their own turnovers to one, and, as always, made the big play.
"Or plays, in my case," says Patriot safety Rodney Harrison. "Two interceptions and a sack, and I'm not the most valuable player? What's up with that? Is this a Ukrainian presidential election or something, or were the votes cast in Florida? Don't get me wrong. Deion Branch had a great game in his own right, but better than me? No. I deserve that trophy. Actually, I don't care about that trophy. I just want that Cadillac."
The Eagles could not quite overcome a 10-point, fourth quarter deficit, thanks in part to some questionable clock management. Down 10 with 5:40 remaining, Philly failed to run their hurry-up offense, and looked so nonchalant doing it that one wonders if they thought they were down seven and not 10.
"Wait. You're telling me we were down 10 and not seven?" asks Andy Reid. "Why didn't you tell me this earlier? Honestly, I was thinking about that GoDaddy.com commercial at the time, the one with the busty chick in the Congressional hearing. I don't know about you, but it's hard keeping up with the score when that's on your mind."
Okay, Andy, I'll give you that. But, if you thought you had just tied the game, why did you on-side kick after you scored?
"Oh, that," replies Reid. "In that case, I was a little distracted by that FedEx ad with Burt Reynolds. Oh man, seeing Burt get kicked in the nads by a dancing bear. That was like Smokey and the Bandit meets Grizzly Adams, with a little Dirty Dancing thrown in. That was classic. Who can seriously think about football with that on their mind?"
Admit it, Andy. You were outcoached.
"Yes, you're right. Now, could you free me from this wet paper sack that I was unable to coach my way out of?"
With victory in hand, Bill Belichick was given the traditional "Gatorade dousing," or, as Belichick himself called it, a "bath."
"What a moment," Belichick exclaimed in his signature monotone, "made even more special by the fact that my father, Steve, was there with me. Dad is often mistaken for the old man on The Benny Hill Show, you know the one who's either chasing top-heavy young Brits, or being reprimanded by Hill with a pat on the head. It's always hurt Pops to say 'No, I'm not him.' Now, I'm sure he's going to be so proud to say 'Bill Belichick is my son, a three-time Super Bowl champ,' while I pat him on the head."
Afterwards, Belichick engaged in a group grope with departing offensive coordinator Charlie Weis and departing defensive coordinator Romeo Crennel. Weiss is headed to the University of Notre Dame, while Crenel will try to reverse the fortunes of the Cleveland Browns.
"I'm really going to miss those guys," adds Belichick. "They make quite a set of chubby coordinator bookends, with me in the middle. It surely will be hard to replace those two. I'm certain that for a while, I'm going to feel like Luke Skywalker without R2D2 and C3PO, or Moe without Curly and Larry, or Tinkers without Evers and Chance, or Jack without Chrissy and Janet, or Run without DMC and Jam Master Jay, or Snap without Crackle and Pop, or Crosby without Stills and Young, and Nash for that matter."
Okay, Bill, we get the point. But I'm sure you will find worthy replacements, or maybe you'll just handle their jobs yourself. Either way, New England will likely be in position next season to defend their crown. The Eagles, as well, should be the NFC favorite again, and with Owens remaining healthy for a full year, and with a little divine intervention, they may just end the Patriots' dynasty. So it shall be written. So it shall be done.
Have a question about sports you've always been afraid to ask? Then send me that question. If I can't answer it, I'll find someone who can, or I'll just make something up. It's all part of a new feature I call Q and A.D.D. with Jeffrey Boswell. Just send me your question, along with your name, city and state, a major credit card number, and your mother's maiden name. Actually, your name, city, and state will do. Send questions to [email protected].
Leave a Comment