Tuesday, February 7, 2017

My Sh*tty Super Bowl Sunday: Part 1

You had to figure this was coming from the guy who wrote something last week called Things I Used to Hate More Than the Patriots. What I didn't count on was it blowing-up into a multi-part bitch/moan session but sometimes these things take on a life of their own. As you will see momentarily, I have pretty much become the cow caught in the tornado, hopelessly mooing as I spin around in circles with no clue as to where I'm going to land.    

The hell that was my Super Bowl Sunday actually started last Wednesday when they drew the numbers for my office pool and for one of my blocks I drew a "5" for the Patriots and for the other block I drew a . . . hey look at that, a fucking "5" for the Falcons. Well that was $20 well spent. Enjoy your goddamn dinner on me at the Olive Garden Margaret from accounting. I hope you choke on whatever they're passing-off as calamari.

I'll let you decide
which three.
The irony is that, despite my traditional distaste for and borderline fear of odd numbers*, I generally have positive feelings towards the number "5." High fives are great when not attempted by golfers and their caddies. The Jackson 5 were awesome. The kids show Hi-5 was surprisingly watchable as an adult due in part to three of it's cast members being sneaky hot and especially when measured against that little whiny Canadian asshole Caillou.** And finally, I used to pick "5" for my summer league lacrosse number because my high school (private of course) only offered double digit jerseys (went out of my way to make that sound as douchy as possible . . . how'd I do?). 

When it comes to football block pools, however, fuck the number 5. Seriously, it shouldn't even be eligible. In the fifty-one Super Bowls, guess how many times one team has finished the game with a score that ended with a 5? FIVE!!! That's less than 5% and, if you expanded that analysis to each quarter, you know the percentage go down because think about how long you have to play and how many fucked-up things have to happen to end-up with a 5. Just look at this nonsense (in reverse chronological order):

Super Bowl XLV: The Steelers score a touchdown in the 4th quarter to pull within five points of the Packers. Then they go for two and make it to end-up with 25 points. So they only hit 25 points because this scenario unfolded (a) at the end of the game and (b) when they were down by five (there's that fucking number again). Then they had to convert it and not score again. It figures that the Steelers would be responsible for two of these asshole cosmic obscurities.    

Super Bowl XXXI:The Packers ended the game with 35 points and you figure that's normal because they scored five touchdowns. WRONG! They got to 27 points in the third quarter and then scored a touchdown to put them up by 12 so they went for two and made it. Then they had to go a whole quarter plus without scoring again. (Yeah but that means they also had a "5 "at the end of the third quarter). Next question!

Super Bowl XXIV: The 49ers ended the game with 55 points thanks to eight touchdowns and a missed extra point. Considering that's the only game in NFL history where a team scored a total of 55 points, I rest my case. (This may or may not be a fact but really, who cares anymore?)  

Super Bowl XIII: Pittsburgh scored 35 points on five touchdowns. That's a fairly conventional path to a "5" and, in science, we call that the exception we ignore to prove the rule.

Super Bowl I: Dammit. Another five touchdown game. Screw-you number 5. I'll see you in hell.

That tangent took much longer than expected and we haven't even gotten to the weekend yet so let's clip Part 1 right there. At this rate, we're looking at a five part series. Like I said . . . cow in a tornado.         


* I actually don't just have a distaste for odd numbers, I flee from them. The volume and temperature controls in my car are always set to even numbers even if that means the sound and comfort levels aren't exactly where I want them. In the gym, all sets are performed in even numbered reps and all cardio workouts are completed in even numbered minutes. When I make my delicious and highly nutritional kale, banana and almond butter smoothies in the NutriBullet, I always stop the blending on 48, 52 or 54 seconds (but never 46 or 56 because "6" is the odd numbers' deranged step-brother). I'm pretty confident most people think same way. At least that's what I tell myself. And my therapist.  

** I'm sorry but if you actually watched Caillou and then knowingly let your kids watch Caillou, you owe society an explanation and an apology.  

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