Tales from The Black Hole

Before getting to Sunday’s Super Bowl, or the Superb Owl, as it’s called by football-loving ornithologists, indulge me this brief look back at the conference championships two Sundays ago.

There are not many “locks” in this world, lock being the bettor’s term for a “can’t-miss” bet. But here’s one you can use to win thousands upon thousands of dollars the next time it occurs. If the Minnesota Vikings ever get back to the conference championship game, bet on them to rain food upon their shoe tops with violent, projectile fury.

That is to say, bet on them to blow not only chow, but the game as well.

I’ve been a fan of those clowns for 38 effin’ years now, and I am fed up. I’m currently looking for an accomplished de-programmer who can rinse my brain clean of this accursed purple and gold infection and install fresh fanaticism towards a new team in time for the fall.

What’s really hilarious is that the Vikes were actually favored to beat the Giants. I don’t want to say we were out of the game early, but I was getting worried that the Giants were gonna run out of Gatorade to dump on each other midway through the third quarter. That’s always a sign things aren’t going well for your team, if the opposing coach is in danger of catching pneumonia because he’s been freezing on the sidelines in Gatorade-soaked clothes for over an hour.

As for the Raider Nation, I’m a big fan. There’s just something about a bunch of large, vulgar hooligans dressed up in skull masks and excessive leather, yelling and throwing cups of beer at opposing players and refs _ I don’t know, it just seems to be an essential ingredient in the Oakland gestalt.

As for two Sundays ago, when the Ravens rolled the Raiders on to their backsides and methodically pulled their legs off, I had a vivid image late in the game. It was the image of a guy in The Black Hole, and he’s all decked out in his Mad Max jacket and his customized skull mask festooned with silver and black waist-length, faux dreadlocks, and it’s late in the game, and it’s obvious the Raiders are having their legs pulled off _ and a light bulb kinda goes off and this guy looks around at all the other psychos, and then he looks at himself, and he thinks “Good God, I’m a total psycho.”

That’s followed by the dazed scene in the parking lot, where hundreds of sulking members of the Raider Nation are wandering about, stumbling towards their vehicles, each one ruminating on his own peculiar take of the “I’m a total psycho” theme.

As for this Sunday, it’ll be Baltimore 7, New York 3, in one of the truly great 10-point games in pro football history. The Ravens will score seven points not with a touchdown, mind you, but with two safeties and a field goal.