Sunday, February 6, 2011

One Nation Under Pigskin

Today is America's #1 unofficial national holiday. Super Bowl Sunday. Seventeen and one-half hours of over analysis and pontification and one-plus hour of hype and overproduction serve as bookends to what one hopes is an entertaining football game. As a New York Giants fan I have no particular rooting interest. As a CU-Boulder graduate, I suppose I favor the Green Bay Packers. The only Buff alum who is playing in the game for either team (I think anyway) is Mason Crosby. Crosby kicks for the Packers. If they win - and particularly if he has some role in the positive outcome - then the University's Annual Fund will put the full-court press on him for donations. That invariably works to my benefit. Go Cheese Heads! Parenthetically the Packers also employ another Buff alum, linebacker Brad Jones, but his season ended prematurely when he was injured in October and underwent shoulder surgery.

The Missus and I shall host a little informal, impromptu Super Bowl party this afternoon. What an original idea; right? I think among our number shall be at least one or two staunch supporters of the men from the Steel City but given that the passion level of our crowd will be keyed more on the food and the adult beverages than the action on the field, I am not worried at all about any fights getting started. Good thing too for I would hate to absorb a drubbing in my own home on Super Bowl Sunday.....although I have to start trial on a case this Wednesday on which I shall likely absorb a drubbing so anything to engender jury sympathy might not be a bad idea.

Today is also the birthday of one of my oldest and unquestionably my tallest friend. Welcome to Club 44 David. He and I served as best men at each other's wedding. He is married to one of the world's true jewels. Christine is a remarkable woman. The two of them have been Maryland residents for longer than I would have hoped - although the setting serves them well and they are raising a family of gorgeous, terrific kids there so again goes to show what I know. Margaret and I have not seen them in far too long but the wonders of virtual communication being what they are, I have been able to keep in reasonably good contact with David over the years and across the miles. Happy Birthday David. Here's to hoping today kicks off (note the topical Super Bowl humor) a very happy year for you, your bride and your brood.

This weekend falling as it does also marks the second anniversary of the death of an old friend of mine with who I did a far worse job of staying in touch over the years and across the miles. Stu Solomon died two years ago yesterday. He was forty-one years young. I tend to think of Stu when I think of David because both of them are men who are considerably bigger than I am and are two of the kindest, gentlest souls I have ever known. Whoever is in charge of these things knew what he or she was doing when making these two. Each was equipped with a heart big enough to match their frame. Rest easy Stu. You earned it.

Enjoy your holiday. May the game match the hype, which it seems more often than not in recent years it has. Apparently once that rule was passed barring the Buffalo Bills, the Minnesota Vikings and any team coached by Dan Reeves from playing in the Super Bowl, the competitive balance of the game increased exponentially. If you want to have some fun, then at 6:25 Eastern time whip out your cell phone and call the one person you know who will be most irritated by getting a phone call right at kickoff of the Super Bowl. If you are hosting a party, then you can even create a pool for your guests as to the over/under for how long it takes the person you call to get you off of the phone and back to the game.

And if you have my phone number and think, "Hey that is a good idea!" my phone will be on vibrate and will remain unanswered. Leave a voice mail. Perhaps I will call you back after the game....

....right as FOX starts its extended episode of GLEE. You're welcome.


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