Saturday, February 02, 2008


3. When I was in college, the Giants were in the big game. Or maybe it was the Jets. Or the Buffalo Bills. Someone from the state of New York. And we left the city of New York, dragged by my friend Elmo Fingers the Wizard (long stupid story; don’t ask) to his hometown of Fairlawn, NJ. There, his family cooked the best, spiciest chili I’ve ever had. Maybe the Dallas Cowboys was the other team in the Superbowl, ‘cause I kept thinking that there’s no way Texas could be the chili capital of the world, after going to Jersey and getting my stomach lining blitzed with deliciousness.

2. Earlier, in high school, my football fan friends couldn’t believe I would skip out of suburbia on Superbowl Sunday to go into the city just to see a concert. Did they not understand? It was Motörhead! Halfway through our headbanging, lead singer Lemmy came on stage and growled to the audience in his British accent: “Do you bastards give a fuck about this pansy American football match-up?” This was before cell phones, of course, so we had no way of knowing the score. He referred to a scrap of paper in his hand. “Uh… Denver Broncos, 14, and… ahh, fuck it!” He tossed the paper and thrashed out the next metal song.

1. Tomorrow. Not just because the underdog Giants get a chance to upset the undefeated Patriots -- football payback for baseball’s transfer of power from NY to Boston. But my friend invited us over to glance at the game between long stints of playing Rock Band. Plus, he promised to break out the Johnny Walker Blue. Man, that’s good shit. Couple of drinks, and no matter the score of the football game or the video game, I’ll be rockin’ out as hard as Lemmy.


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