J-Borhood Oscar Recap 2008

You’re sick of reading about football and I’m sick of writing about football. To make sure you don't bludgeon yourself (or me, well, mainly me) to death with a fantasy football guide, I want to take a one week football hiatus before discussing Colt Brennan’s performance at the NFL Combine and gab (and alliterate) about the grandiose gala of glitz: The Oscars.

So, lean back, put on your coolest pair of Jack Nicholson sunglasses and enjoy the show.

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New Oscars. New sunglasses. Same pimptastic Jack Nicholson.

And the winner for best speech of the night goes to… Best Costume Design winner, Alexandra Byrne. She thanked three people, her team and her family in less than 15 seconds. Alexandra, we don’t know you, we don’t care. Thank you for understanding.

Technically, it wasn’t at the Oscars, but Heather Locklear looked stunning in that L’Oreal commercial. Are we entirely sure that she’s aging? Isn’t she like 85? Maybe it’s time to invest in L’Oreal…

Let me get this straight. Brad Bird, the writer of Ratatouille, has two Oscars and Johnny Depp has zero? Seriously, do the winners of all the minor awards still get the same respect as the legitimate Oscar winners? Do they still get invited to the after parties? I picture them standing around outside a liquor store like Seth, Evan and Fogell, talking about trying to pick up chicks with their Oscars and debating whether their McLovin fake ID will work.

Did anyone else think Katherine Heigl was about to cry out of sheer terror when she was presenting her Oscar?

Could Amy Adams (Giselle from Enchanted) have been any more embarrassed singing the “Happy Working Song”? As she expounded on “cleaning the toilet” and “stinky socks” in a sing-song voice that sounded like she was talking to 12 year olds with corresponding hand motions that were somehow more embarrassing (if that’s even possible), the Editor-in-Chief shook her head and said, “that poor woman.”

Watching the mind-numbingly hot Catherine Zeta-Jones talk about sharing her Oscar with husband Michael Douglas was touching. Certainly put a damper on my plans to break up their marriage.

If the Super Bowl is the pinnacle of advertising, I think the Oscars are where ads go to die. I was one melodramatic, overly artistic credit card ad away from setting myself on fire.

Watching Michael Fink, Bill Westenhofer, Ben Morris and Trevor Wood, winners of the Oscar for best Visual Effects, jump around and unleash visceral screams on stage further convinced me that techies should never, under any circumstances be allowed on television.

For his sake, I hope Casey Affleck is talented. He is one ugly Affleck.
Nice to know a few things about Javier Bardem

1. He doesn’t always sport that haircut
2. He doesn’t always talk in that creepy guttural drawl
3. He occasionally leaves the pressure gun at home

When Jon Stewart announced that “Oscar Nominee” Owen Wilson was presenting an award, my only thought was, “Owen Wilson was nominated for an Academy Award??!?!?!?!”

Raise your hand if you want to see Jerry Seinfeld promote that god-awful Bee Movie ever again. You can put your hand down, Mr. Seinfeld.

Just for once, I want someone to say in their acceptance speech, “I am thankful for me! This is for me and ONLY ME. No one helped me get here, so screw all of you.”
I’m sorry that I can’t let this go, but one year later I still can’t believe that Alan Arkin won the Best Supporting Actor award for his role in Little Miss Sunshine. I feel like I’m all alone here, but I do not see what was so special about that movie. It was a comedy THAT WASN’T FUNNY.

It takes a lot to make George Clooney blush, but when Tilda Swinton talked about him wearing the Batman suit with built-in nipples, he turned about eight shades of maroon.

Speaking of Swinton, I can’t think of a joke that is funnier or more horrifying then her dress and make-up free alien face.

For the record, Seth Rogan does make a better Halle Berry.

I think someone forgot to tell Viggo Mortenson that he did not have to come dressed in character. That said, it was a pretty sweet beard…

Perhaps Three 6 Mafia winning the 2006 Academy Award for Best Song was the sign of the apocalypse. I can find no other explanation for how utterly terrible the nominees for Best Song were this year. Are we entirely sure they didn’t switch gears this year and award the Worst Song from a Motion Picture?

Two reactions to Chris Rouse winning the award for Best Editing and saying, “My father won an Academy Award. Thank you for putting me in his company.”

• Editor-in-Chief (filled-with-choked-up-7-months-pregnant-emotion): “Awwww. That’s nice.”
• Me: “He can finally go over to Dad’s house without having that Oscar lorded over him.”

Are we entirely sure that Nicole Kidman isn’t a robot. (Take a look and then decide for yourself)

I felt like an asshole, but all I could think of when 98 year old, Lifetime Achievement Award recipient, Robert F. Boyle droned on into then twenty eighth minute of his speech was, “start the music, already!”

Cymbalta, an anti-depressant advertised during the Academy Awards, listed “suicidal thoughts” as one of its side effects. Call me crazy, but doesn’t that completely defeat the point of taking an anti-depressant?

Speaking of pill popping, what drugs did Harrison Ford take before getting on stage and is it possible to purchase those before lengthy flights? He looked like they just released him from the Carbonite in Return of the Jedi.

First thought that went through Diablo Cody’s mind after winning the award for Best Original Screenplay: “Oh my God! I can’t believe I won.”

Second thought that went through Diablo Cody’s mind after winning the award for Best Original Screenplay: “I REALLY regret wearing this dress.” Perhaps, the best way to get people to forget that you were an exotic dancer is to stop dressing like one.

So, is Diablo Cody her real name or her stripper name? If the answer is the former, her parents redefined self-fulfilling prophecy.

Daniel Day Lewis is a talented actor, but one weird looking dude.

Was it just me or did you have a hard time telling Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham-Carter apart in Sweeney Todd?

And the fakest comment of the night award goes to…No Country for Old Men producer Scott Rudin for exclaiming “this is a complete surprise,” upon receiving the award for Best Picture. Complete surprise to whom?

And finally, I think it’s safe to say that the Coens are more comfortable behind the camera then in front.

Bore Me like Beckham

This Saturday, David Beckham, Brian Ching and Landon Donovan lead their MLS teams against squads from Australia and Japan in a showcase of soccer talent unmatched in Hawaii since Pele and the New York Cosmos played on Oahu in the summer of 1977. The matches feature big stars and international players and, most importantly, provide the rare chance to watch live professional sports in the islands. As an erudite sports maven, I should be excited for the opportunity to witness the beautiful game in person, but, for some reason, I’m not.

In fact, I couldn’t care less.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m always excited when big time sports visit the islands and I’ve enjoyed talking about something other then football for a few days; I just have no interest in attending the games. I have a couple friends going on Saturday, who invited me to tag along, but, much to their surprise, I told them that I’d rather have my Saturday free. (In all fairness, they are only going because one has free tickets and the other is working for one of the teams.) This greatly surprised them and, frankly, surprised me because, in general, I’m a big fan of all sports, soccer included. In fact, I love the World Cup. I’m CRAZY about the World Cup. In my opinion, the World Cup is every bit as exciting as March Madness and the Super Bowl. Between the screaming, yelling, singing fans, the national pride, the world class athletes, the shoot outs, the convergence of sports and politics, and the head butts, I can make a strong case that the World Cup is the world’s greatest sporting event. And my soccer fandom does not stop there. I enjoy watching the occasional soccer match on television. In college (read: when I had access to free digital cable), I routinely viewed English Premier League games, tuned in to the occasional Seria A (the top flight Italian league) match and played my fair share of FIFA 2003. (Actually, I was better at FIFA 2003 then I have ever been at any other video game. I was, literally, unbeatable. It got so bad that I had to spot my friend Steve a certain number of beers that I would drink before playing. I finally peaked at 10, though not because he finally beat me – he didn’t – but because that’s when I wanted to puke more then play FIFA. Ah, college. Good times.)

It’s not that I don’t care about soccer. I just don’t care about this soccer.

I find it hard to get that excited about an exhibition match. Sydney FC finished their season two weeks ago, have just had a week long Hawaiian vacation and they’re supposed to care about a random game against a team from the United States with nothing on the line? The two MLS teams haven’t even started their seasons yet. They have only practiced together for two weeks and they’re supposed to play sharp? I’m sure Bryan Ching will go all out for the local fans, but otherwise, I expect all the teams to play spirited, but uninspiring games as they enjoy their time in the islands.

Let’s say you’re a professional soccer player in the United States. You don’t have groupies. You’re not famous. You don’t make a lot of money. There’s no media throng following you around or reporting on how you played. What’s more important to you, an exhibition match against some random team from Australia or Japan to start off the season or the beautiful babes and beaches of Waikiki? Did you even have to think about that?

That is not to say exhibition matches can’t be fun (I kept that sentence in specifically for it’s fabulous use of a double negative). I attended the Pro Bowl two weeks ago with my buddy and had a blast. But I had more fun drinking beer in the sun and watching the players trash talk each other then I did watching the game. Furthermore the game was on a Sunday afternoon, my wife was at work and I got a free ticket. If I had exerted less effort to watch the game, they would have played it in my living room. I suppose I could have a similarly enjoyable time at the soccer games this weekend, but too additional factors dampen my excitement over the games.

First of all, the games will be played at Aloha Stadium, which is, in my opinion, the worst international soccer venue in the world. (Ok, there’s probably some small patch of scorched earth in Cameroon that is worse, but not by much.) The playing surface is Astroturf, which causes the ball to skip around rather then roll and hurts like hell when you fall on it. Think giant tennis court as opposed to soccer field. Furthermore, in order to ensure proper drainage of the turf, the field bows outward, meaning the ball continues to roll even when no one kicks it. Finally, the field is only two thirds the size of a regular international field, because the converted football stadium lacks the size – mainly the width – to support a true international pitch (See, I know my soccer. I’m using cool British words like pitch.). This makes a huge difference in the quality of play because it vastly reduces the amount of free space with which the players have to work and true, beautiful soccer relies on open space. Space allows teams to spread the ball around and work an intricate passing attack, it allows gifted athletes to use their speed to their advantage and, most importantly, it provides attackers room to work with the ball. In short, space equals excitement. A small field allows defenses to crowd the space in front of the goal and diminish scoring opportunities. If a 1-0 game sounds like your idea of a good time then by all means this is your kind of soccer.

But, I can get over Aloha Stadium. If England was playing Brazil on Saturday I would have bought my tickets months ago. Heck, I’d watch England play Brazil on that patch of scorched earth in Cameroon. Sadly, David Beckham aside, the LA Galaxy is not the English national team and the Houston Dynamo is certainly no Brazil. The fact is, the MLS is still a second class soccer league. Actually, that’s being kind. The MLS is a third class soccer league. And it’s not like they brought in big name opponents like Manchester United, Chelsea, Barcelona or AC Milan. Sydney FC? Gamba Osaka? Gamba Osaka sounds more like pickled vegetables then a soccer team. (In fact, I’m pretty sure I had some Gamba Osaka at Shyrokiya the other day and it was kind of gross.) It would be great to watch David Beckham. It would be exciting to see Bryan Ching’s homecoming. But really, outside of those two players, nothing about the games excites me.

In baseball, one pitcher can make a game a must see event. Johan Santana could come and pitch for BYU-Hawaii and I’d drive to the North Shore to watch him. In basketball, the promise of one Kobe Bryant dunk or Steve Nash no-look pass is enough to put fans in the seats. In football, no matter how good the talent, you know you’ll see some hard hits and exciting moments. In soccer, on the other hand, true beauty rarely comes from individual talent. Rather, the beautiful game relies on the seamless fluid motion of an entire team working together. On those occasions when an unbelievable collection of talented athletes combine their unparalleled skill, fitness and jaw dropping teamwork, the result is magic. Great soccer is truly amazing. On the other hand, poor soccer, average soccer, even decent soccer is usually excruciatingly boring.

If they bring true top flight, high level soccer to Hawaii, I’ll be the first in line for tickets. Until then, wake me when the World Cup starts.

Goodbye, Farewell and Amen

When the Giants knocked Tom Brady down after his first snap, I should have known.

When Bill Belicheck decided to go for it on Fourth and 13, rather then settle for a 49 yard field goal, I should have known.

When the unflappable Tom Brady missed a wide open Randy Moss in the corner of the end zone, I should have known.

When Pro-Bowl cornerback Asante Samuel dropped a sure fire interception on the Giants game winning drive, I should have known.

When, on the next play, Eli Manning slipped out of the grasp of three separate Patriots and heaved a desperation throw to David Tyree, who jumped over Rodney Harrison, trapped the ball against the top of his helmet and miraculously prevented it from hitting the ground, I REALLY should have known.

But it wasn’t until I was running like a wildman in knee deep water in the sandbar of Maunalua bay, holding up a single victorious finger in the air and shouting at the top of my lungs, celebrating the celebrating the Giants incredible victory over the seemingly invincible Patriots, that it hit me:

God cares about the football.

As the Patriots stormed through the regular season and the first two rounds of the playoffs undefeated, I lamented that it signaled that God did not care about football. A God who cared about football would not reward a team for cheating and poor sportsmanship. Yet week after week the Patriots continued to win and a championship seemed their manifest destiny. Patriots ownership even trademarked 19-0, Perfect Season, Road to Perfect and 19-0: A Season of Perfection. Yet, just when the Patriots were poised to finish off their perfect season and join the 1972 Dolphins as the only team’s to finish an NFL season undefeated, God aided the Giants final drive and reminded us that his love of the gridiron had not waned.

In retrospect, it seems so obvious. In Week 17, the Giants decided to risk injury and play their starting lineups for the entire game in a meaningless contest against the Patriots. The Giants had nothing to gain from the game – they had already clinched the sixth seed in the NFC playoffs – but in the spirit of fair play and good sportsmanship, they decided to try and knock off the still unbeaten Patriots. During that game, young Quarterback Eli Manning shed his previous inconsistency and, almost instantly, transformed into a Pro-Bowl caliber quarterback. Similarly, the unpredictable Giants defense shut down what many believed to be an unstoppable Patriots offense for three quarters, before narrowly collapsing in the end. At the time I attributed the Giants inexplicable improvement to the magnitude of the game and their desire to end the Patriots run at history. Had I only believed, I would have seen God broadcasting his plan.

But the signs didn’t end there. While playing the Giants, Tony Romo and the NFC’s highest scoring offense somehow couldn’t score, even though they had the ball in the red zone twice in a row with less then three minutes to play. The following week, Brett Favre seemed to age thirty years before our eyes. After summarily dismantling the Seahawks, Favre looked old and tired against the Giants. But even with his poor play, the Packers appeared to have victory in their grasp when they won possession of the ball to start overtime. Then, in what should have been an obvious sign from above, Favre threw an atrocious interception on the first play of overtime, which set up a game winning 49 yard field goal for Giants placekicker Lawrence Tynes, who had missed his two previous attempts. The signs were there all along, I just lacked the faith to see them.

Looking back on the season, what strikes me most the Giants improbable rise to prominence and eventual Super Bowl victory, is that, while many fans and media members lost faith that anyone could beat the Patriots, the Giants never lost faith. In fact, during the week leading up to the Super Bowl, Giants wide receiver Plaxico Burress proclaimed that the Giants were going to win 23-17. Normally, when a player guarantees a victory, especially in a game as big as the Super Bowl, he comes across as cocky, arrogant and foolish. In contrast, Plaxico appeared level headed and confident. (Faithful J-Bors will attribute this to Plaxico obeying the J-Borhood etiquite of the guarantee.) Plaxico had faith. Perhaps, if others had maintained as strong faith as Plaxico, they would have succeeded in knocking off the Patriots.

Earlier in the season, the Ravens seemingly stopped the Patriots on fourth down at the end of the game to win the game, except their Defensive Coordinator, Rex Ryan, called a time out right before the play because he did not trust his players to make the stop. Rex Ryan lacked faith.

When the San Diego Chargers played the Patriots in the AFC Championship, they came out fired up and were within striking distance in the fourth quarter when they faced a fourth down in Patriots territory. Rather then put his trust in his offense and try to convert the first down, coach Norv Turner played it safe and punted the ball. Needless to say, the Chargers never got the ball back. Norv Turner lacked faith.

Finally, in the Super Bowl, Patriots coach Bill Belicheck made an unsuccessful attempt to convert on fourth and 13 rather then allow his second year kicker the opportunity to try a 49 yard field goal in a game which the Patriots would lose by three. Bill Belicheck lacked faith.

The Giants, on the other hand, never lacked faith. Even when Tom Brady led the Patriots on their customary late fourth quarter drive to take the lead, the Giants maintained their swagger. After the score, I, like many others, figured the game was over and that the Patriots had once again eked out a narrow Super Bowl victory. The cameras showed a close up of Teddy Bruschi hugging Juinor Seau on the Patriots sideline saying “You’ve got your ring. You’ve got your ring.” (I’m not sure which display of overconfidence was most ridiculous, The Boston Globe selling pre-orders of their new book “19-0”, Bill Simmons writing an article that tried to determine whether the 19-0 Patriots were a better team then the 1986 Celtics or Teddy Bruschi declaring victory minutes before surrendering the game winning touchdown on defense.) Only, the Giants never got the memo. They marched 80 yards in just over two minutes and secured the greatest Super Bowl upset since Broadway Joe led the Jets over the Colts.

God, as people often say, works in mysterious ways. The signs of his work, while obvious in retrospect, are easy to overlook when they occur. In spite of my recent revelations and return to faith, I almost missed God’s final calling card in regards to the Super Bowl. While researching for this article, I learned that Super Bowl XVII was the second most watched TV program of all time, behind the only the final episode of M.A.S.H. This didn’t mean much to me at first, until I learned the name of the episode:

“Goodbye, Farewell and Amen”

Amen, indeed.

Pro Bowl Musings

It seems sacriligious (Ok, maybe that's a BIT strong) to talk about the Pro Bowl before the Super Bowl, but I have some editing work to do on my Super Bowl piece and only a few things to say about the Pro Bowl.

1. Yes, Adrian Peterson is that good. He's not only big, strong and fast, but can cut on a dime. I'm not looking forward to him playing the Bears two times a year for the next decade.

2. Yes, Devin Hester is that fast. I'd pay money to watch him race Antonio Cromartie in a 100 yard dash. They both take only two steps every five yards. Unreal.

3. The game taught me everything I need to know about Terrel Owens. He dropped two easy passes to start the game, which drew the ire of the crowd and a chorus of boos. Then he caught a magnificent shoe string catch on fourth and 13 to spark an NFC rally and a rain of praise from the crowd. Wildly inconsistent. Supremely talented. Polarizing figure. Done. Done. and Done.

4. My favorite moment from the game was watching Chad Johnson try to convince Al Harris to match up with him at the line of scrimmage. At one point, when Harris refused to get any closer then an 8 yard cushion, Johnson turned to the NFC coaching staff and starting pleading with them to force Harris to guard him. Say what you want about Johnson's brash, outspoken personality, he's alright in my book.

5. Gotta love the special teamers in the Pro Bowl. On the first NFC kickoff, Bears special teamer Brendan Ayenbadejo was about 5 yards in front of his closest NFC teammate as he sprinted down the field to cover the kick. Maybe the big stars didn't care about that game, but he did.

6. Tom Brady and Randy Moss displayed the same lack of character that their coach and organization displayed this year in declining to play in the Pro Bowl. Oh well, they got what they deserved. 18-1! 18-1! 18-1!

And on that note friends and J-Bors, a hui hou!

2008 Annual J-Borhood Super Bowl Prognostication Extravaganza!

Bad news, friends and J-Bors. Due to recent time constraints, I am forced to downgrade the status of the 2008 Annual J-Borhood Prognostication Extravaganza! Unfortunately, it does not contain the required amounts of fun, frivolity and flavor required of an Extravaganza! It’s not quite an Extravaganza (notice the missing exclamation point, a serious downgrade), an Etravaganza didn’t feel right (Missing the ‘X’ of course, because it is no longer Xtreme), a Travaganza sounds more like an Eastern European city then a ‘Hood worthy celebration and Vaganza sounds uncomfortably similar to a certain lovely member of the female anatomy. With that in mind, if decided to coin this celebration a Ravaganza. It does not quite conger up the no holds barred excitement of an Extravaganza! (for which, I humbly apologize), but it still sounds like a party at which it’d be cool if you took your pants off. Which, let’s be honest, is what you’re all here for anyway.

So, without further ado, allow me to present the 2008 Annual J-Borhood Prognostication Ravaganza!

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Yesterday, J-Bor Jericho Stone (who wins the coolest name award, hands down), sent me some information about an intriguing development in the 2008 Presidential Primary race. Two new candidates have emerged and cemented themselves as the front runners in the up-for-grabs race towards the White House. These two individuals provide a potentially ground breaking ticket that, not only crosses racial lines, but crosses party lines as well. Forget Mitt Romney. Say goodbye to Hillary Clinton. Move over John McCain.

Make way for Brady / Moss in ‘08

On one side you have Brady, the socially progressive Democrat. He looks like a winner, talks like a winner and acts like a winner and has a proven track record of success. Though some liberals claim that he doesn’t like to give handouts (as evidenced by his small number of turnovers), he manages to appeal to the broader base of socially minded liberals through his proactive welfare solutions (his efficient distribution of touches to all members of the offense.) He demonstrated that he’s willing to put his money where his mouth is when he declined a larger salary for the good of the team and, in the footsteps of the great Democrat, JFK, he’s good looking, from Boston and has a penchant for spending time with Supermodels.

On the other side you have Moss, the hawkish, outspoken Republican. He firmly believes in the conservative ideal of every man for himself, an ideal he embodied during over the off season when he orchestrated a trade from the worst team in the league to the best team in the league. He also demonstrated a strong capitalist spirit this season in breaking Jerry Rice’s long standing touchdown record, which will surely lead to a giant contract in the offseason. He has also garnered strong praise in conservative circles for his support of a strong armed forces (clearly the man knows the value of a good offense) and, finally, like Mitt Romney, he appeals to the African American demographic.

The pair certainly have their work cut out for them on Super Tuesday, er… Sunday, but they’ve established themselves as the clear favorites and plan on storming their way to victory.

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As has become tradition here in the ‘Hood, I provide each Super Bowl a unique moniker.

Super Bowl XV, brought us the Ex-Girlfriend Bowl.

Super Bowl XVI was the “It's about more then just the Quarterback” Bowl.

Without further ado, allow me to present the 2008 J-Borhood Super Bowl:

Super Bowl XVII: The Destiny Bowl

This Super Bowl matches up two teams with destiny on their side. The New York Giants became a team of destiny when, rather then rest their starters in a meaningless game at the end of the season, they went toe to toe with the 15-0 New England Patriots, nearly shattering their attempt at a perfect seasons. The Giants rode the momentum from that victory into three consecutive road victories over heavily favored opponents. Meanwhile, the Patriots have sliced through the league with ninja-like efficiency towards their Manifest Destiny: a perfect season. (Yes, this last sentence was just an excuse to say “ninja-like efficiency”) Now, their two destinies collide in what many say will be the most watched sporting event in the history of the world.

While, on paper, the Giants appear overmatched, they possess the type of pass rushing threat that a team needs to try and disrupt the Patriots precision and timing passed passing attack. As we witnessed in the Sugar Bowl, a ferocious pass rush can wreak havoc on a passing attack. I feel like I’ve written the same thing for the past three weeks, but if the Jaguars, err…Chargers, err…Giants can put consistent pressure on Tom Brady without having to take men out of coverage to blitz, then they have a chance. Unfortunately, the Patriots have the best offensive line since the mid-90’s Cowboys (for you non-football fans out there, if an average NFL offensive line is a picket fence creating a small, but sturdy impediment for opposing defenses, then the mid-90’s Cowboys lines were like Alcatraz, if Alcatraz was surrounded by tiger sharks with laser beams on their heads.) rendering the possibility of creating pressure on Brady for four quarters nearly impossible. On top of that, Eli Manning, playing in his first Super Bowl, will need to continue his recent run of efficiency (6 TDs to 0 INTs in the playoffs), sustain long drives with the offense and score touchdowns when they get in the red zone. Eli has the unusual opportunity of talking to his brother about what needs to be done here, but judging from Payton’s post season track record against the Patriots, maybe he’s best going this one alone.

In large part due to the quality of their defense and the emergence of young quarterback, Eli Manning, everyone wants to compare the 2007 New York Giants to the 1990 Super Bowl Champion New York Giants. The 1990 Giants featured a hard hitting defense, led by a veteran Superstar, Lawrence Taylor, with a penchant for antagonizing the quarterback; They were led by a young efficient quarterback, Phil Simms, with something to prove; They faced the daunting task of slowing down the seemingly unstoppable K-Gun offense of future Hall-of-Fame Quarterback Jim Kelly and dynamic playmakers Thurman Thomas and Andre Reed. The 2007 Giants also feature a hard hitting defense, led by a veteran superstar, Michael Strahan, with a penchant for antagonizing the quarterback; They are led by a young efficient quarterback, Eli Manning, with everything to prove; They face the daunting task of slowing down the seemingly unstoppable offense of future Hall-of-Fame Quarterback Tom Brady and dynamic playmakers Randy Moss and Wes Welker. In fact, the similarities are so abundant, that it has led many pundits to predict that the Giants will once again shock the world in Super Bowl XVII. This reasoning, however, has one tiny oversight.

The defensive coordinator of the 1990 Giants, the man responsible for orchestrating the brilliant game plan that confused and manipulated the powerful Buffalo offense was Bill Belicheck.

Yes, that Bill Belicheck: The coach of the New England Patriots.

In my playoff preview, I postulated that the Patriots recent run of success proves that God does not care about football because he would not thusly reward a group who has cheated and displayed poor sportsmanship. J-Borhood fan, erudite intellectual and Dallas Cowboy cheerleader Jennifer Higaki has a different theory. She believes that God does care about football, however, much like during the fall of Rome, God has lost interest in the dominant power – in this case, the Super Bowl – due to it’s immorality, corpulence and largess. As the NFL has transformed from a league centered around man to man competition and fair play into one predicated on large contracts, me-first superstars and commercial interests, God’s interest in the NFL has waned and he has focused his attention towards the college season. We only need to observe the recent season of the University of Hawaii Warriors for an example of God’s good works on display in the college game.

But, you ask, how does this affect this Super Bowl?

Because the Giants will need an act of God to beat the Patriots.

I’m sorry to say this and I hope it’s not true, but I think the Patriots are going to get out to a big lead in the first half and never look back. The only interesting thing about this game after half time will be the commercials, which, sadly, switch to local programming for the second half.

Heaven help us. (Please.)