The most entertaining part of my Super Bowl experience was watching my cousins get ever increasingly intoxicated while trying to simultaneously curb their tendencies to spew obscenities lest they corrupt our friend's daughter (17 months old) and her ever-developing vocabulary. Something tells me Monday's day care might be filled with a four-letter word that rhymes with "truck."
I am a Bills fan (insert Bills joke here, I've heard them all). All my cousins are Bills fans. Except for Greg's girlfriend. The lone Steelers fan (there's always one). As Big Ben (is just me or did he look severely bloated) began to pick apart the Cardinals defense, and the beer flowed (not for the FWG, I gave up drinking for the new year) we began to talk defense.
I also got to get into a heated discussion on the finer points of defensive scheme; "On defense you do the same thing every time. Go find the guy with the ball", said my cousin Danielle. I wanted to berate her on her ignorance of everything sport. I wanted to argue with such a blanket statement, but alas, I couldn't.
If 5 years of college football have taught me anything (a lot of people go to college for 5 years. Yeah. They're called doctors) it's that...well...that's generally true. The smartest guys on the field don't play defense (just the toughest). And our job does boil down to finding the guy with the ball, and subsequently trying to make him wish he were never born.
The game went something like this.
Fitzgerald makes catch. Cut to press box for shot of his Dad. Fitzgerald picks up the first down. Cut to press box for shot of proud father. Like the camera guys were playing a game of chicken, either he would crack a smile or they would finally stop shooting him. For those of you not up on your current events, Fitzgerald senior is a sports writer. Tomorrows headline "CARDINALS CAN'T WIN: DESPITE STELLAR PLAY BY FRUIT OF MY LOINS."
As of tomorrow, we’re all undefeated.
(There's always next year Bills fans)
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