I am unable to hate Aaron Rodgers (and I hate that)

I had a hangover on Monday, physically and mentally. Strangely, neither stemmed from frustration about the Green Bay Packers Super Bowl victory.

The physical hangover resulted from an ill-conceived science experiment. A couple friends brought over a soda making kit - a gas injection device that carbonates anything - and we collectively decided that 9 p.m. was the best time to test a recipe for sparkling long island iced-teas, in the interest science, of course. Because you know what a 12 ounce cup of gin, vodka, tequila, and rum needs? Increased drinkability. The plan was either a rousing success or an epic failure depending on whether you asked us last Sunday night or Monday morning.

The mental hangover was harder to wrap my hands around.

A Packers Super Bowl victory is as close as you can come to a sports apocalypse for me. I hate Green Bay. I hate everything about them. I hate the Lambeau Leap. I hate the green and yellow uniforms. I'd hate the stupid cheese hats even more if they didn't help me so easily identify people with whom I will never be friends. Green Bay practically ruined my entire football watching childhood and, consequently, I enjoy watching the Packers lose almost as much as I enjoy watching the Bears win. (Hey, when you're a Chicago sports fan, sometimes schadenfreude is all you got.)

Yet, in the aftermath of the Packers victory and Aaron Roders coronation as Super Bowl MVP and the-next-great-quarterback I felt strangely ambivalent. I even tried to cry, but it turns out poking yourself in the palm with a dinner fork doesn't bring up tears, just searing pain in your hand. Try as I might, I could not get the faintest bit upset over what should have been one of the more vomit inducing championship celebrations of my life.

Because, frankly, I respect this team.

I feel like Vince Vaughn at the end of Anchorman, "I hate you Green Bay Packers. I hate you. But [gosh darn it], do I respect you."

I respect Aaron Rodgers. I respect Charles Woodsen. I respect the way BJ Raji is a dead ringer for the lady who played Precious. I respect Green Bay's cadre of wide receivers. I respect the way they can dominate on offense without any semblance of a running game. I respect the 2010 Green Bay Packers.

I never respected Brett Favre during his heyday. Not ever. Not even a little. I grew a grudging respect for him - a quasi-Stockholm syndrome - at the tail end of his career, but only after he started handing out interceptions to Bears defensive backs like glazed doughnuts at a Krispy Kreme. But during his prime? Pure, unadulterated hatred.

Brett Favre was the embodiment of pure evil. I hated the way announcers euphemized his interceptions as "gunslinging". I even hated the way he pronounces his name. THE R COMES AFTER THE V, BRETT. YOUR NAME IS FAHV-REH. WHY DOESN'T ANYONE ELSE REALIZE THIS? I FEEL LIKE I'M TAKING CRAZY PILLS.

Aaron Rodgers is different. He has played so well and displayed such dignity, grace, and leadership in the process, that I'm forced to admit not only a completely un-begrudged respect, but also a bit of admiration. Aaron Rodgers is everything you want in an NFL quarterback and, even though I tried as I hard as I could to get upset, I was happy to see him revel in the much deserved post-Super Bowl celebration.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to whip up an extra large batch of sparkling long island iced teas and throw my laptop through a window.

The Annual Super Bowl Prognostication Extravaganza 2011

I am the World's foremost authority on Yo Gabba Gabba. Over the past two and a half years, I've spent more time with Muno, Foofa, Brobee, Toodee, Plex, and DJ Lance than anyone outside of my daughter and the Editor-in-Chief. If the fate of the free world hinges on an extensive knowledge of brightly colored furries teaching kids life lessons through indie music, President Obama is calling me.

In the grand scheme of children's television programming, Yo Gabba Gabba is quite tolerable (which I suppose is like saying in the grand scheme of Taco Bell food, Mexican Pizza is the least likely to cause diarrhea). Still, there's only so many times you can hear the catchy and informative song "Don't Bite Your Friends" before it starts to have the reverse effect. At a certain point - somewhere around the 4,700 hours mark - you start dreaming up inventive ways to postpone the slow creep of insanity resulting from the almost unbearable repetition of chirpy educational fluff.

My favorite tactic is to create alternate story lines and ponder the background and relationships of the characters. Yo Gabba Gabba supposedly chronicles the educational interactions between DJ Lance Rock and his collection of magical toys. But, when I watch, I see a much more intricate and mature and storyline.

Muno, the giant one-eyed bumpy orange phallus, is coming to grips with his homosexuality; Foofa, the pink "flower" creature, never received proper attention from her parents and desperately seeks affirmation, which drives her blatant promiscuity. Toodee, the blue female arctic cat-dragon, is tormented by her unrequited love of Foofa. Brobee, the green striped square with arms, suffers from learning disabilities and anger management issues, a sad result of his parents drug abuse. And Plex, the magic androgynous robot, struggles with the paradox of assisting the development of his friends while lacking the capability to feel. These complex emotional and psychological undercurrents provide sufficient depth to help me stave off the desire to set myself on fire during the 379th rendition of the song "I Like Bugs".

This Sunday, I'm going to have to use similar tactics to help keep me from banging my head against the wall during five hours of Packers and Steelers bacchanalia.

There are few teams or players in sports that I actually hate, but the Packers are one of them. While Chicago trotted out a different hide-the-women-and-children embarrassment to the very idea of quarterback play every year, the Packers had Brett Favre. From 1992 to the present, Rex Grossman led Bears Quarterbacks with 20 wins. During that same period, Brett Favre had 22 wins against the Bears. Now that Favre is no long around to torture Bears fans, the Packers new quarterback, Aaron Rodgers, might be even better. Shoot. Me. Now.

While I lack a similar personal connection to fuel my distaste for the Steelers, it's hard to root for a team that has won six Super Bowls and is poised to win their third in that past six years. Compound that with a quarterback who should probably be in prison for sexual assault charges - and yet, strangely, is more beloved and accepted than a guy who got pulled out of an NFC title game with a knee injury. Stallworth drove drunk and killed a pedestrian, Roethelesburger sexually assaulted a girl, Michael Vick viciously slaughtered dogs, but we hate Jay Cutler. Go figure. - and you see why I have trouble getting excited for Steeler Nation.

Worse of all, the game will end with either the coronation of Aaron Rodgers as the best quarterback alive (which would likely result with me vomiting in my hands), or fuel the patently absurd notion that Ben Roethlesburger is the greatest quarterback of all time (In his seven year career he's had a Top 3 defense five times, the #1 defense three times and led a Top 10 offense only twice - #9 both times. People who suggest Big Ben is better than Peyton Manning deserve an elbow to the crotch).

I can't remember a year when I've been less invested in a Super Bowl, which is strange considering it should be a great game. The Packers and Steelers are two of the NFL's oldest and most storied franchises. They both have incredible defenses and explosive offenses. By all accounts they are evenly matched and Sunday's game should be one of the most competitive ever. But, no matter what I try, I can't get excited for this Super Bowl.

I've spent the entire week trying to think of alternate story lines, unrelated to the game, to help stomach a 300 minute tug job of the franchise that ruined my formative football years and the team that wins championships like I make Rex Grossman jokes. Maybe I'll just go watch Yo Gabba Gabba with Haley. At least the music won't be as bad as the Black Eyed Peas at halftime.

---

In 2006, it was The Ex-Girlfriends Bowl.
In 2007, it was The "It's about more then just the Quarterback" Bowl.
In 2008, it was The Destiny Bowl.
In 2009, it was The "And Pornography Will Save Us All" Bowl.
In 2010, it was The "It's actually just about the Quarterback" Bowl.

This year, I'm proud to present the One Too Many Injuries Bowl.

I can't seem to wrap my head around the idea of the Pittsburgh Steelers as underdogs in the Super Bowl. They've won more Lombardi Trophies than any team in history, two titles in the past six years, and always seem to come up big when it matters most (Roethlesburger to Santonio Holmes anyone?). But there's only so many injuries a team can sustain at key positions before you have to start wondering how they can patch the holes.

With Maurkice Pouncey officially out of Sunday's contest, the Steelers offensive line is playing without their starting center and both starting tackles. Ben Roethlesburger thrives at evading pressure in the pocket, extending the play, and making plays down field, but can a patch work offensive line reasonably contain a defense with BJ Raji, Clay Matthews, and Darren Woodsen that likes to disguise blitzes and bring pressure from all angles? How much smoke and how many mirrors do the Steelers have left? The battle at the line of scrimmage - on both sides of the ball - will define this contest, and I don't know if Pittsburgh has the man power to hold Green Bay at, well, bay.

When Pittsburgh has the ball, watch the middle of the line to see whether back up lineman Doug Legursky, making his first career start at center, can hold the point of attack against Green Bay's rotund nose tackle, Gabourey Sidibe look-alike BJ Raji. Between Roethlesburger's ability to escape pressure and Rashard Mendenhall's tough running, the Steelers are almost uniquely capable of overcoming offensive line deficiencies, but the line needs to, at least, give the playmakers a chance to get down field. Also, the Packers main weakness on defense is slowing down the tight end. Look for Pittsburgh TE Heath Miller to have a big day gashing Pittsburgh up the seam (For the gambling addicts out there, Miller has 25 to 1 odds to win Super Bowl MVP. I'm just saying.).

When Green Bay is on offense, keep a close eye on how close Pittsburgh lines up their defensive backs. Typically, they play one in tight press coverage and the other about 10 yards off the line of scrimmage. If Pittsburgh sticks with this alignment, Green Bay will rely heavily on quick slant patters - their bread and butter - and, as we saw on the Packers opening drive against the Bears in the NFC Title Game, are capable of getting down the field in a hurry. (For the gambling addicts out there, slant route runner extraordinaire also has 25 to 1 odds to win Super Bowl MVP. I'm just saying.) The battle between the Packers offense and Pittsburgh defense to make the other get out of their standard alignment could swing the outcome of the game.

At the end of the day, the Packers ability to spread out the Steelers defense on fast Dallas turf and apply pressure to an embattled Pittsburgh offensive line should result in a convincing, if not overwhelming Packers victory, except... Green Bay has this nagging tendency to let teams hang around and the Steelers thrive in ripping the heart out of opposing teams in close games and no one is better than Ben Roethlesburger at converting big third downs and leading game winning drives. If the Packers don't step on the Steelers' throat and keep them in the ball game, look for the Men of Steel to win their unprecedented seventh Lombardi Trophy.

But.... I don't think it will be close at end. I think the Packers jump out to a fast start and never look back. 31-21 Packers. Let the Aaron Rodgers coronation begin. I will now curl up in the fetal position, donning my Jay Cutler jersey.

Wooden Sharks and Lombardi Trophies

In 2001 my family and I traveled to Micronesia for a scuba diving vacation. To get from Hawaii to Micronesia you need to fly to Guam then take a short flight from Guam to your desired island. Pretty simple, except there are two vastly different ways to travel from Hawaii to Guam: a 7-hour direct flight to Guam International Airport or a 14-hour island hopping sojourn that stops at every borderline significant atoll large enough to warrant a 7-11 between Hawaii and the land of the brown tree snakes. (You can probably guess which flight we took.)

In our defense, we chose the island-hopper in large part because of my older brother's hyperbolic description of the Continental Airlines flying experience following his recent trip to New York:

Each seat has it's own TV with on demand movies and video games!!!

The lunch service makes Wolfgang Puck look like a hobo!!!

The flight attendants give out free pillows... and hand jobs!!!

The middle seats on the plane fold down, turning the cabin into a giant dance club with free champagne and a complimentary Puff Daddy performance!!!

None of us were huge Puff Daddy fans and free pillows are standard fare on airlines, but the allure of great food and non-stop on-demand movies and video games combined with the intrigue of stopping at various islands outweighed the additional seven hours of travel time and numerous take-offs and landings. Unfortunately, we were not aware that the island hopper used a smaller plane, which does not have individual TVs on each seat, and the constant take off and landings eliminate the need for substantive food service. Instead of a high-class non-stop dance party in the sky, we had 14 hours of Lifetime made for TV movies, cardboard flavored sandwiches befitting a vending machine, and small bags of Frito-Lays potato chips dating back to the mid-70s whose packages were mostly likely colored with lead-based paint. If the trip didn't kill us, the liver damage and kidney failure would. Awesome.

On the bright side, stopping at the individual islands provided an interesting glimpse into local culture and a great sense of the size and topography of the islands in the Western Pacific. I suppose that's like saying that the bright side to catching the flu is that you get to stay home and watch "The Price is Right" reruns in between bouts of vomiting and diarrhea; but after 14-hours on an airplane with only a few bits of cardboard, freeze dried turkey, potato chips and lead-based paint in your stomach, you start clinging to any ray of hope to delay cannibalism and outright anarchy.

After 12 hours of the Micronesian death march, when all hope seemed lost and we started openly debating the merits of eating my little brother, one stop made the entire trip worthwhile: Kosrae.

Kosrae is the final stop before Guam, a tiny, borderline insignificant island that wouldn't make anyone's list of Top 500 places to visit before you die. Tourists traveling to Micronesia go to Chuuk or Yap. No one visits Kosrae. There is nothing notable or interesting about the island except for one exceedingly cool local craft available for purchase in the airport: hand-carved wooden sharks. They range from one to three feet long, have exceptional detail, and real shark teeth, expertly affixed in the life-like jaw. They are the single coolest hand crafted item I have ever encountered in my travels and would look amazing sitting majestically atop my coffee table, boldly announcing to any that enter your home that you are a man who doesn't take any guff. You are an apex predator, a cold, icy killer with testicles anywhere from 25 to 200 percent larger than the average non-shark possessing male. Even better, the sharks weren't that expensive. They ranged in price from $20 for the smaller ones to $40 for the larger, more intricate carvings.

So, of course, we didn't buy one. We talked ourselves out of the purchase using contrived logic.

We don't want to carry it around in our luggage the entire trip

Only stupid tourists buy things in an airport

Clearly, they'll be available on the other islands

So, instead of plopping down $40 for a three foot long, gorgeous, hand-detailed Hammerhead shark, I kept my wallet in my pocket and got back on the plane. Worst. Decision. Ever. As we later learned, the wooden carvings are Kosrae's signature item and only available for purchase on the island.

I walked away from, hands-down, the most awesome, staggeringly bad-ass souvenir of my life because I didn't want to potentially regret spending an extra Hamilton. That is the reason why, ten years later, my coffee table lays bare instead of adorned by a fearsome virile totem to my masculinity. It is also why I am still so upset over the Chicago Bears losing the NFC Conference Championship game to the Packers this past Sunday.

Don't get me wrong. The Packers were a better, more talented football team and deserved to win the game. The Bears skirted through the season on luck, pluck, and verve, avoiding significant injury and seemingly catching every opponent at the best possible time. They played Detroit without their starting quarterback. Twice. They beat Green Bay by a field goal after the Packers committed 18,000 penalties. They beat a Dolphins team starting their third string quarterback, one so bad he was cut the previous year by Kansas City. They played Minnesota without Brett Favre. They clinched a first round bye after Green Bay lost to Detroit and Philadelphia lost to a Minnesota team led by Joe Webb (whose name I had to Google). In the first round of the playoffs, they got to play a 7-9, hide-the-women-and-children dumpster fire Seahawks team after Seattle miraculously upset the heavily favored Saints and Green Bay beat Philadelphia on the road. They caught every break all season long and their luck finally ran out at the worst possible time.

At the beginning of the season, I thought the Bears would be lucky to finish 7-9. They had no offensive line, no wide receivers, a secondary with more holes than a Michael Bay script, and a quarterback with a specialized ability to target perfectly thrown passes to the other team. After their miraculous 4-1 start, my Dad and I agreed that we would consider getting to the playoffs a wildly successful season. After they improbably clinched the division and an 11-5 record, we concurred that a single playoff victory would make the entire season worthwhile. We had no delusions of grandeur with this team. But, that's not how I feel today.

An NFL team only gets a few chances to win a Super Bowl. Just ask Peyton Manning, who's been to the playoffs eleven times and only has one Super Bowl to show for it. Or ask Tom Brady, who won three Super Bowls in first five seasons, but fell short the following six years. In fact, neither Manning's nor Brady's best team ('05 Colts, '07 Patriots) won the Lombardi Trophy.

Football is a bizarre game of chance and circumstance. A contest played by twenty-somethings with a ball that doesn't bounce straight. Crazy things happen and the best team doesn't always win. When you have a chance to win it all you need to capitalize and, despite their numerous flaws, the Bears had a fantastic opportunity to win the Super Bowl this year. They won in an unorthodox fashion - incredible special teams, opportunistic defense, and an offense that did just enough to keep Bears fans from vomiting in their mouths - but with a rock solid defense, a coaching staff that boasted four members with previous NFL head coaching experience, and only two games between them and immortality, the time was now.

Yes, Jay Cutler got injured. Yes, the defense gave up early momentum to the Packers. Yes, Todd Collins played so poorly as Cutler's replacement that they pulled him with 37 seconds remaining in the third quarter, even though it meant that if emergency back-up Caleb Hanie left the game the Bears would have to start Devin Hester at quarterback. Yes, the Bears probably didn't even deserve to be in the game in the first place. The fact remains, the Bears squandered a golden opportunity to win a Super Bowl and who knows when they'll have another chance to win it all. Dan Marino led the Dolphins to the Super Bowl his rookie year and, through the course of his Hall-of-Fame career, never made it back.

It doesn't matter whether you're the best team or the most deserving. It doesn't matter whether the breaks go your way. It doesn't matter whether you should be happy just to get as far you do. It doesn't matter whether some of your starting offensive linemen couldn't crack the starting line up for the local high school teams. It doesn't matter whether your back-up quarterback is appropriately named after an alcoholic beverage since he drives you to drink. At the end of the day, when you find yourself in the Kosrae Airport of football games, you better damn well buy the shark. Otherwise, a decade later, you could be left with an empty coffee table and an ocean of regret.

I'm pretty sure this Bears team will retool the offensive line, add some weapons to the receiving core, and return better than ever, primed for a Super Bowl run. But, I was pretty sure I could get a hand-carved wooden shark in Chuuk and my coffee table is still noticeably bare.