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NCAA Tournament Fun Facts

So, are you feeling good?  Have you studied your spread sheets, win charts, RPI graphs; consulted with your insiders, your psychics, your “rain men”; input your numbers into the supercomputer specifically designed to come within the smallest of percentages of you ever having a girlfriend?

In other words, have you filled out your NCAA bracket yet?  The Madness doesn’t wait, you know.  Part of the fun is processing the myriad information of match ups and potential meetings in only a few days before making what could become your greatest achievement or your most ignominious failure.

Originally meant for a fun diversion, these pools are now hugely popular and there’s billions of dollars at stake here (legally, of course).  So each piece of information, regardless of how trivial, may mean something in your prognostication.  Though most obscure facts have found their way into papers and onto the Internet, I have found a few that you may have missed.  Feel free to incorporate this knowledge into your last-second entries.  For instance, did you know:

Rick Pitino actually receives royalties every time John Calipari copies his shtick.

Missouri is the “Show Me State,” but be warned, they actually have a law that makes it illegal to show them.

No Jewish school has ever won the tournament.  Sorry Davidson, Temple, and Murray State.

Lamar coach Pat Knight is a distant relative of legendary coach Bobby Knight… That is to say, he’s his son, but their relationship just isn’t very close.

St. Bonaventure’s nickname comes from its name (the Bonnies).  St. Louis, on the other hand, did not go with the “Louies,” instead choosing the more obscure Billikens.

Norfolk, Long Beach, and Murray are not, in fact, states.

Famous Harvard Crimson basketball alumni include Jeremy Lin, and– uh… okay, come back to this one… (there’s gotta be someone else, right?  The school’s like 500 years old.)

Duke University is the most hated college, athletically-speaking, in the Nation… and that’s before you even mention their lacrosse team.

It is written in Duke’s by-laws that they must not be ranked lower than a #3 seed and must play their opening round games in a state that borders North Carolina.

Duke and the University of North Carolina are located on Tobacco Road and therefore are not allowed inside any restaurant in New York City.

Michigan State coach Tom Izzo is the first coach with two z’s in his name to take his team to the tournament since Adolph “Red” Zazoo did his Fighting Lemurs in the 1940s.

Connecticut coach Jim Calhoun is a close, personal friend of mine.  He just doesn’t know it.

Brigham Young is at-large.  If seen, approach with caution.

The Florida Gators won back-to-back titles in 2006-2007.  Their success prompted a brief national craze known as Noah-ing, where one would grow his hair into a big, poofy mess and act like a spaz.

Though the term “Cinderella team” refers to one who exceeds expectations, Cinderella herself never made it past the second round.

The Virginia Commonwealth Shockers were not named for their basketball abilities, but rather for their penchant of streaking on campus.

Crosby Stills Nash and Young actually has a national championship! (1950)… I’m sorry, that’s CCNY (City College of New York), not CSNY.

The term “bubble team” comes from the fact that “not-a-chance-in-hell-of-winning-the-title team” was too long.

No one actually knows where Iona University is.  In that sense, it’s sort of like Area 51.

No #1 seed has ever lost to a #16 seed in the first round of the tournament.

Syracuse was the first #2 seed to lose to a #15 seed in the first round (ironically, a mere 24 hours after I accepted their offer to attend).  This year, as a #1 seed playing a #16 seed, they look to make history again.

And with those little tidbits sprinkled into your brain matter, let the games begin!  And may your pools be filled with the chlorine of good fortune and not urinated in by the bratty child that is elimination.

[Attached image by: Arvind Balaraman]

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Super Bowl XLVI – Return of the Hoodie

After several heart stoppages and two different televisions –do you think Best Buy will exchange a flat screen with a lamp through it?  I still have the warranty. — the chance for redemption is ON.  We all remember what happened the first time the New England Patriots and the New York Giants danced in “the Big Cotillion.”  In fact, there are still many who wake up at night screaming, “HE’S IN THE GRASP!!!” as nightmares of Eli Manning’s desperation heave to David Tyree after defensive lineman Jarvis Green held onto the quarterback’s jersey for a full three-count continue to crop up.

It is now four years later and the Northeast monopolizes media coverage yet again.  Welcome to Rex Ryan’s personal hell.  His town’s successful team and his arch rival doing what he cannot do, at least not with Mark Sanchez under center.

There is a weird familiarity to this game, almost like we’ve seen it before.  Flash back to 2007 — no, really. . . do it.  Flash back! — The Giants squeak into the playoffs by the thinnest of Joe Flacco fu manchus and proceed to win three games on the road, including the championship game in overtime, in inclement weather, after an ill-fated turnover.

Meanwhile, the Patriots, though they made history by achieving the first-ever sixteen game perfect season, made the Super Bowl, but only after a controversial win (in Week 13) by three points against a Baltimore Ravens team.  Sound familiar?

In that season, the Patriots beat the Giants during the regular season.  This year, however, they didn’t, which bodes well if you’re looking for comparisons to the 2001 team which similarly lost to the Rams, then proceeded to run the table, including a Super Bowl win against those same Rams.

And in a season when Brady’s chief rival Peyton Manning was inactive, his brother Eli has risen like some sort of Phoenix.  (A brilliant reference if ever I saw one as his first Super Bowl win was, in fact, in Arizona.)  It’s like some weird sort of action movie sequel where the hero, having dispatched of the bad guy, finds that the bad guy had a brother who’s much more evil then his dead brother ever was.  (Remember, you can’t spell “elite” without ELI.)

I understand that this redundant matchup has removed all interest for many of you — “When is Cleveland ever going to be in the championship?” — but for those of you who haven’t moved on to other sports like Texas Hold ‘em and the Scripps National Spelling Bee, you have myriad reasons to pick a team and get behind them, if only for one day.

Why Root for New England?

It’s not often you see greatness.  No, greatness doesn’t come around as often as the attempt to make greatness a storyline does.  From ownership down to the parking attendants at Gillette Stadium, the New England Patriots do things the right way.  This includes Belichick and Brady who, when all is said and done, will be among the most accomplished of all time, if not the most accomplished.  In short, they are the Egg Mcmuffin of football teams.

They’re playing for the owner’s late wife.  Myra Kraft was kind, charitable, and admired throughout the organization.  The Patriots are playing this season with her memory in mind.  Nothing trumps a dedicated season, save for perhaps one in which the somehow handicapped guy, diminutive or otherwise, gets on the field/court and provides the game-winning score/basket.

They’re playing for history.  Four Super Bowl wins for Brady would mean tying him for the most rings by a quarterback with Joe Monana and Terry Bradshaw.  And Belichick would be tied with Chuck Noll.  If Eli wins, that’s only two.  Big whoop!

They’re playing for redemption.  It’s a classic story where the defeated hero rises up again to vanquish his reviled antagonist, like “Rocky 2,” “Return of the Jedi,” or any of the “Police Academy” movies.

They also have a bunch of undrafted players, a rookie who is a non-Hodgkins lymphoma survivor, a wide receiver moonlights in the secondary, and Gronk!  In short, they’re a good bunch of players to root for.

Why Root for New York?

John Mara is the owner of the Giants.  His niece is Rooney Mara, the actress who was darned good in “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.”  (I’ve never seen it, but I’ve heard good things.)  By association, you gotta pull for the Maras.

You have a hatred of Peyton Manning.  A victory for the Giants and subsequently for Eli will show the middle child that he is, in fact, the slow one and not his little sibling as we had previously thought.  A win for Eli will provide retribution for all those wet willies, purple nurples, and wedgies Peyton, no doubt, gave him as a child.  This winter, vote “Eli, for Best Manning Ever!”

According to Vegas, they are the underdog.  Not sure what Vegas is up to on that one, but if your thing is pulling for the underdog (except in that movie “Underdog”), this is the team for you.

Now, on the flip side, for those of you disgusted by the false promise of league parity and the redundancy this matchup provides — well, you probably already have your reasons, but — here are a list of reasons to root against each team.

Why Hate New England?

There are lots of reasons.  For one, they win a lot.  Give somebody else a chance!

“The hoodie” himself.  Not that you liked his brusque and secretive nature before, but the infamous Spygate scandal pushed your disgust of the man to a new level.  He was the only coach to oversee videotaping of other teams, except of course, for any other teams that did it too but just didn’t get caught.  As such, the New England Patriots and Bill Belicheat are the scourge of the league.

The New England fans are out of touch with the 99%.  They are the Mitt Romney of fans.  They don’t understand the hardship that other fans go through on a regular basis just trying to make it to the playoffs, let alone winning a game.

Why Hate New York?

Are you kidding?  They’re New York!  Do you really want those fans around you when they’re winning?  (Or losing, actually.  A lot of it is the smell.)  If you thought New England fans were bad, you ain’t seen nothin’.

New York is going for their fourth Super Bowl win.  It’s boring for a team to be so consistently good as they would have won in the 80s, the 90s, the oughts, and potentially again this decade.

Another Manning?!  Really?!  We thought we were rid of the Manning talk.  Plus, poor Cooper will feel even worse if Eli ends up with two more rings than he has.

The Mara family.  Sheesh, how much success do they need?

whether you root for them, against them, or don’t watch the game at all, it will be decided by the talent on the field.

Why New England will win

They don’t lose to teams twice in the same season, er. . . usually.  (Forget about last year’s playoff loss to the Jets.)

The supernatural.  After the victory in the AFC Championship game, Bob Kraft alluded to “forces at work beyond anything we can understand.”  Did Sterling Moore really knock the ball out of Lee Evans’ hands?  Did Billy Cundiff really shank the kick?  Those of you non-believers can stick to that earthy mumbo-jumbo, but BK knows better.  The Pats are “playing for the patch,” in memory of Myra Kraft.  And Myra Kraft, in turn, is playing for the Pats.

Revenge is a great motivator.  Tom Brady, though he’s cut his hair, may be compared to Uma Thurman in “Kill Bill.” And if New England does win, they will finally be given their 19-0 perfect season!  (hm. . . wait, that can’t be right. . . can it?)

Why will New York will win

First of all, the fact is, the Giants are 3-0 in Super Bowls when Bill Belichick is on the sideline.  Think about it.  That bodes well for them.

But mainly, it’s science.  A tough pass rush coupled with an aerial assault from three quick and strong receivers against a less-than-stellar secondary and there will be nothing the Patriots can do.

So what we have is Myra versus Mara, science versus the paranormal.  As we all know, sports follows no sort of karmic law or spiritual puppetry . . . or does it?  Save for Super Bowl XL featuring the Steelers and the Seahawks, the referees are not “in the bag” or blatantly incompetent, frequently making the correct call with the naked eye on plays we, the viewers, need freeze frame technology to barely venture a guess at the correct call.  The Golden Rule applies to the Super Bowl and that is: “The better team on the field always wins. . . unless it is coached by Norv Turner.”

New York won the last Super meeting on a miracle pass and a helmet catch after a missed interception.  Heck, they’ve already marched the field in the fourth quarter against the Patriots in homage to Super Bowl XLII earlier this year.  Plus, all of Brady’s Super Bowls have been decided by three points.  What about this tells you that the Giants won’t again win by three in the waning minutes?  One thing’s for sure and that is the certainty that this game will not be any less exciting.

Mental note:  Replenish my supply of EpiPens and smelling salt, charge my defibulator, and buy an extra tv.

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Checking Santa’s List for Sports

Ho! Ho! Ho!  No, it’s not Herman Cain addressing yet another accusation from a mistress, but the commercialized call representative of the birthday of that most famous religious figure, that leader of men, that otherworldly phenomenon, Tim Te—er, I mean, Jesus Christ.  (Sometimes I forget that Tim Tebow’s birthday is actually August 14th.  My new year’s resolution is to get a petition to Congress to make that day a national holiday, I don’t care how many doors I need to knock on and how many hours I need to stand outside of malls.)

It’s Christmas time, and it’s the time for giving, a time for all of <i>fankind</i> to come together as one and treat each other with hospitality and friendship.  For all the animosity you show to each other, this is a time to put bygones aside.  In fact, let bygones be bygones; help them to grow up and live fruitful bygone lives, raising little bygones of their own, and then let those bygones be bygones, perhaps settling an organic bygone commune out in the woods somewhere. 

Now is the time to allow for all our fellow fans, be he decked in silver and black, teal, or green and yellow with a hunk of cheese on his head; be his field green or blue; whether his horns be hooked or his tide rolled, he deserves something this holiday season and Santa (shhhh! It’s actually just a fat guy in a red suit and hat with a white beard) is here to give it to him. 

Now, without further ado, let us reach inside the satchel and distribute the presents to these most deserving sports entities:

To Tony LaRussa – a phone that works and a peaceful retirement.

To the NBA – a new commissioner, six fewer teams, and plenty of Barkley and Shaq commentary. 

To Dirk Nowitzki – singing lessons.

To Frank McCourt – a one-way ticket out of Los Angeles (it’s really for his own good as Dodgers fans can be quite aggressive.)

To Dodgers fans – a new owner, preferably one who is a step up.

To Jerry Sandusky – a trip from Penn State to the state pen.

To the Texas Rangers – a hearty “A” for effort.

To Nelson Cruz – a better jump on the ball.

To the 1986 Boston Red Sox – the long overdue opportunity to throw away the Buckner footage. 

To @d_rovell (Darren Rovell) – a singing career.

To Dan Patrick – more movie appearances.

To Tim Tebow – a watch with the correct time to start “Tebowtime” 45 minutes earlier.

To opponents of the Broncos – a fourth quarter to go along with the three they currently play.  

To Cleveland – something. . . ANYTHING.

To Lebron James – a book on magic to help with his disappearing act during the NBA Finals.

To Chicago Cubs fans – hope, if but for just an offseason.

To the “unnamed source” in sports reports – the courage to come forward with your name.

To the “player to be named later” – a name, preferably something cool, like Nnamdi Asomugha, or I hear “Ron Artest” is available.

To Chad Ochocinco – permission to tweet as much as you’d like.

To Ndamakoung Suh – an offseason job as the glass breaker at Jewish weddings.

Jim Schwartz – dinner with Jim Harbaugh.

Jim Harbaugh – the chance to stand Jim Schwartz up at dinner.

To Brett Favre – another chance. . . to throw an ill-advised game-losing interception.

To Vince Young – a different dream.

To the late, great Al Davis – a team in heaven.

To Peyton Manning – a new neck.

Andrew Luck – a good real estate agent in Indianapolis.

Eli Manning – finally a seat at the head of the table at family gatherings

To Brigham Young University – consensual relations during basketball season.

Mark Cuban – an MLB franchise.

CC Sabathia – opt out clauses every year.

Los Angeles – a football team. . . for a few years before it leaves for somewhere else.

Manny Pacquiao – a fight with Floyd Mayweather.

Rex Ryan – a Bill Belichick dart board for his game room.

Donovan McNabb – a cushy studio job.

Tony Romo – a big game win.

Big East – a new name.

To the Bowl Championship Series – a little love. . . similar to the love Lennie shows a puppy in “Of Mice and Men.”

To Chris Paul – a string of championships with the Clippers.

To the Los Angeles Clippers – a larger share of the market (something tells me if they start to win, Lakers fans will jump on board). 

To Albert Pujols – 254 million reasons why it’s not about the money.

And to Tito Francona – a more respectful, celebrated exit.

Finally, to all of you from all of me, I give to you another year of buzzer beaters, fantastic finishes, shocking upsets, gutsy performances, inspired efforts, and the thrill of victory without the agony of defeat. . . unless, of course, you’re playing Tim Tebow.  

Happy Holidays!

[Featured image by: digitalart]

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A Moment of Sporting Thanks

A Moment of Thanks

Prior to the autumnal feast that shall soon be placed before us, we’ve already been given a lot to digest from this year in sports, including not one, but two labor strikes, improbable winners, ungracious losers, horrific tragedies, and a trip from Penn State to the state pen.  Let us now take a moment to focus, not on the negatives that are overthrown passes and blown coverages (as we all know there was pass interference somewhere that should have been called), but rather on all the positives we can take away from the field; to take pause and give thanks for this culture in which we have invested our time and sanity. 

Interestingly enough, the first Thanksgiving occurred when the Pilgrims went to the Wompanoag Tribe in 1621 for lessons in surviving the brutal winters of Massachusetts and how to deal with the annual collapse of the local wood-chipping team. 

That autumn formed the basis of what we now know as Thanksgiving and for many years, the colonists lived peacefully and synergistically with the neighboring Indian tribes.  That is, before shooing them off their land, claiming it for themselves, and then giving them casinos.  It was kind of like running up the score.  Nothing said they couldn’t, but it was generally frowned upon, especially by the Indians. 

But I digress. These days, the holiday stands for overeating, creating weird hybrid meals like turducken, watching football, and spending time with the family you seek to avoid all year long; a chance to call a timeout to the hustle and/or bustle of our lives. 

So with that tradition in mind, let me take a moment to present to you that which I am thankful from the past twelve months in sports.   I am most thankful for:

Norv Turner, for defying logic and remaining gainfully employed as a head coach in the NFL.  Seriously, does he have photos of A.J. Smith in a compromising position or something? 

The 2011 Boston Red Sox, for making us all forget that “All My Children” had ended.

Theo Epstein, for giving Cubs fans hope, as blind as it might be, for that’s where it begins.

Jim Harbaugh, for showing that going from the college to the pros is easier than everyone prior to him has shown it to be.

Pittsburgh Steelers linebacker James Harrison, for keeping the economy growing with fines levied from hits.  C’mon, James, it’s been a while.  Your country needs you!

The NFL, for making it a safe game to play again, except to the myriad players foolish enough to get injured on a weekly basis. 

Tim Tebow, for being a great quarterback even though the numbers show he sucks at it.

Ndomakung Suh, for being a dirty player while remaining so damned likeable. 

Andrew Luck, for saving the Indianapolis Colts while still at Stanford.

Boise State, for losing a game this year so as not to confuse things in the BCS as they did in 2009.

The Big East, for keeping the words “big” and “east” in their title even though both are misnomers. 

Dirk Nowitzski, for winning that ring he deserved five years earlier.

The NBA players, for standing their ground and taking a charging foul.

The NBA owners, for arguing the call, saying it was a blocking foul.

David Stern, for continuing to ruin a league he once built to prominence.  The guy’s like a gambler at Vegas who doesn’t know when to leave once he’s accumulated a stack of chips.  It’s become quite comical to watch.

Novak Djokovic, for showing he should be on “Dancing with the Stars.”

Roger Federer, for finally allowing others the chance to win trophies.

Tim Tebow, for forcing us all to love him.

Bob Costas, for getting the interview with former Penn State assistant football coach Jerry Sandusky so we could see the worst denial in the history of speaking, a 16-second denial on whether or not he is sexually attracted to young boys where the alleged child rapist repeated the question, qualified it, danced a little, then finally denied it once we had all switched over to “Dancing with the Stars” that we had TiVoed.   

NCAA football conferences, for making geography class irrelevant. 

Michael Vick, for regaining the respect of his fans, only to lose it again with his performance on the field.

St. Louis fans, for being so even-tempered. 

Albert Pujols, for doing something legendary just days before his contract expired.

The Texas Rangers, for allowing networks to replace footage of the 1986 Boston Red Sox with them.

Playoff beards, for making a world of difference in how you play. 

Cal Ripken Jr., as a reminder not to take his feat for granted.  He played in 2,632 consecutive games.  I, for one, took a week off between writing the beginning and end of this piece. 

Tim Tebow, for making us all believe in ourselves.

Sports karma.  That’ll teach you to take anything to South Beach.

Floyd Mayweather, for finally realizing he gets paid a ton of money to fight Manny Pacquiao. . . whether he wins or loses. 

Mike Tyson, for being viable again. . . in some funny acting bits.

Coach K, even though we all hate your team, we gotta admit, you’re pretty good

Shaq Fu, the Shaq Daddy, The Big 401K, and so on, for his fun-loving personality we hope continues into retirement. 

Chad Ochocinco, for his tweets before he got to “heaven.”

Major League Baseball, for stepping up to the plate and showing America it’s still a force to be reckoned with.

And finally, Tim Tebow, for making every day just a little brighter.

What a year it’s been.  Sports are as they always are – intriguing captivating, nauseating, emboldening, and demoralizing.  And that’s only on a Sunday.  Here’s to the other six days of the week.  Now, pass the turducken.  I’ve still got some eatin’ to do before I watch “Dancin’ with the Stars.”

[Featured image by: David Castillo Dominici]

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God and Sports: What Effect Does HE Have?

Stevie Johnson won the game for the Buffalo Bills.  That’s what Geoff Hangartner thought when he turned his back the moment the ball landed perfectly in Johnson’s hands and he rushed to quarterback Ryan Fitzpatrick to celebrate.  “Perhaps a little dance, perhaps I’ll throw the signal caller on my back and gallop around for a little bit; maybe just a simple helmet bump,” the Bills center thought. 

Fitzpatrick, by that time, had already gone from celebration to mourning, clutching his helmet in disbelief.  The Harvard-educated quarterback knew the degree of the ball’s trajectory, the force with which he threw it, and the speed of the wide receiver all came together to make the perfect throw.  He also knew the odds that such a perfect throw would be dropped were low, yet still feasible.  And he knew the likelihood that what he was seeing was real and not a philosophical manifestation or existential occurrence. 

Steve Johnson was not so cerebral about it.  He just knew that he had [bleeped] up.  He did catch the ball perfectly on the bounce though, so he had that going for him.  But that didn’t count and someone was to blame.  Who would have thought that it was the Lord?

After the game, the wide receiver tweeted, “I PRAISE YOU 24/7!!!!!! AND THIS HOW YOU DO ME!!!!!” YOU EXPECT ME TO LEARN FROM THIS??? HOW???!!! ILL NEVER FORGET THIS!! EVER!!! THX THO”

Is God even on Twitter?  Not that HE couldn’t figure it out, but HE may have deemed it as a waste of time.  I mean, after all, if HE was spending time on the site, do you think HE would’ve finished the world in only six days?  HE’s very into time management.  

But that’s besides that point.  One thing we do know is that God has a sense of humor.  It’s why some men have hair on their backs, but not their heads.  It’s why we still need orthodonture work done throughout our adulthood after getting a half dozen teeth pulled and wearing braces for two years during adolescence. 

Have you ever lost your keys and looked in your coat pocket without finding them.  Then you’re back to your coat pocket later in the day and the object reappears?  That’s God.  You can thank him for replacing your keys.  Of course, you could also blame him for taking them in the first place.  

Though an omniscient being, do you think God gets the sarcasm at the end?  “Thx tho.”  Or was Johnson being sincere?  “Oh, yeah, thanks for those times you didn’t screw me.  I wouldn’t want to see ungrateful.  But for this particular time, you’re on my list, buddy.” 

Players frequently thank the Lord when they win the game or make a great play.  This would be the first time in recorded history where the “Big G” was publicly thrown under the Crosstown Heavenly Express Bus (the #8 for those with a heavenly bus schedule). 

But what hand does God actually have in the game?  There’s this old gem from a couple of years ago:

God was giving Yankees manager Joe Torre a tour of heaven. He showed him a little run-down 2-room house with a faded Yankees banner hanging from the front porch. God said, “This is your new home, Skip. Most people don’t get their own house up here.”

Joe looked at the house then turned to see the house on the top of the hill; a huge 2-story mansion with white marble columns and plush patios under each window. Boston Red Sox flags lined the sidewalks and windows and a huge Red Sox banner hung between the marble columns.

 “God, with all due respect, let me ask you a question: How come I get this little house with a torn Yankees banner that proclaims our 26 World Series titles while Terry Francona gets a huge mansion with Red Sox banners and flags flying all over the place?”

God smiles for a moment then replies, “That’s not Terry’s house, that’s mine.”

And you can replace the Yankees with the Patriots or Duke Blue Devils, whatever you want.  The truth is God doesn’t have a favorite.  HE just has a sense of humor.  HE loves that joke.  HE loves when you tell it to make your team feel like they are chosen.  HE also loves when your team screws up.  It’s funny.  Ever see those blooper reels on the lighter side of sports?  God’s got them all (on Blueray, of course).

He’s certainly not biased toward one team or another . . . (although there is significant evidence to indicate he’s not a fan of Cleveland).  But scholars spend so much time focusing on the existence of God and his effect on games that they neglect his most significant nemesis, the Devil. 

Remember, the Hades resident exists as much as he’d have you forgot about him.  “The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.”  That’s from “The Usual Suspects” and doesn’t give away the ending, though if you still haven’t seen it by now, I should ruin it for you just based on principle.  

I find it strange that El Diablo doesn’t get more due.  He’s behind lots of things.  But winners praise God, who is probably amused by the attention, while the Devil is ignored.  It would make just as much sense, if not more. 

Take the 1990 NY Giants after the kick by Buffalo’s Scott Norwood’s sailed wide right sealing his team’s fate – why don’t players get into the locker room after the game and say to the reporters, “Phew!  The Bills played tough out there tonight, but we had Lucifer on our side.  Thank the Devil.  Super Bowl Champs, Baby!!!”

God, quite frankly, is not a sports fan.  Do you know how trying that would be on HIM?  “Have you ever seen a World Series baseball game on tv?”  Of course, you haven’t, few people have.  Sorry.  Stupid question.  Any sport will do, really.

If you had, you’d see all these people sitting in the stands, hands clasped deep in prayer.  Most of them swear their butts off and are probably cheating on their spouses, so they’re not really very religious.  During these times, God gets deluged with requests much like a city’s septic system does during commercials of a Super Bowl broadcast. 

Philosophers have struggled over this for centuries, back when the first rock slipped through the first caveman’s hands or a sword fell out of a Gladiator’s hand just as the lion was about to pounce, or the sun got into a knight’s eyes enough to obscure the angle of the attacking knight’s lance. 

The issue has haunted the likes of such great minds as Kirkegaard, Newton, and Vegas bookmaker Joey “Muffintop” D’Angelo who theorized that God was a fan of Rollie Massimino’s animated coaching style and thus made a fortune on the 1985 CAA Finals. 

Nope, Lucifer just knew a good opportunity to screw a lot of bettors.  “#8 seeds never win.”  Heh heh.  Yeah, we’ll see about that. 

The Devil is the sports fan.  He loves messing with things.  God has better things to do.  If God cared, do you think the Yankees would really have 27 championships?  Would a team named the Blue Devils win so much?  How would that look?  (Actually, that’s exactly the kind of humor God goes for.  He’s an ironic dude.)  

Of course, there is the less-publicized theory that a couple of guys at Buffalo Wild Wings who weren’t ready to head home to their wives used their connections to the Rich Stadium grounds crew to keep the game going.  But like I said, it’s only a theory.

What do I know anyway?  Until now, I thought Newton spent all his time creating a delectable snack cookie made from figs.

 

 

[featured image by: Danilo Rizzuti]