AFC SUPER AGAIN

Ok so I said that Indy and the CHawks would be in Detroit for the 40th Super Bowl. I also said that if it were baseball, I'd pick the Steelers. Guess what? I pick the Steelers.

Big Ben is the big reason. Big players come through big in big games. Hasselbeck, wasn't he the guy on Baywatch with all the pretty girls? Well,except one girl who's name was Samantha. She wasn't too hot. (There I go again using and old expression.) She wasn't a holla back girl. (As if I'd know what the heck that means.) Anyway, I wanted the Matt man on my fantasy team, but Mr. Milt got him, and happened to win a MVRL Championship with him.

But not tomorrow. The Steel guys will murder him. And Ben along with Hines, both Burrowing Owls, will bring title number V to Pittsburgh. What a fitting ending to the career of the battering Ram/ Bus, Jerome Bettis. Plus, it's in his hometown. I knew tagliBOO had some crazy reason to let Motown host it. On a sidebar, I'm really hoping the NFL can settle its contract hassles and keep them status quo. There's simply no better pro set up than the parity and salary cap and sharing of finances than in the NFL. Blow apart the salary cap and the big spenders jump in and screw it up for all of us. Except the players.

The Stones for half-time entertainment? Keith Richards walked past us at an outdoor restaurant in Cannes, France, in 2001. We were wedged in and by the time we split up to catch another glimpse of him, others followed and he lost us. Anyway, as Beavis and Butthead would say, "Those guys are old."

I don't know, the whole thing seems out of wack. Stones, CHawks, Detroit. Detroit? I don't care if it is the Bus' hometown, Detroit? Well, I guess they can use all the money the big event will bring in. But a Steeler victory will return all to normalcy. Well, almost all.

ONCE IN A LIFETIME-- TO GO TO THE SUPER BOWL

We went to this one. Scott and me.
They drew my name in the PSL lottery for season ticket holders. Our seats--7 and 8 Row 29 Section 612. Upper Deck. About halfway up. Overlooking the 25-yard line.
The Rams lost. In the last 90 seconds when they went into a prevent defense. A terrible strategy used unsuccessfully for years and years in the NFL. And once again, it didn't work.
Should the Rams have gone for a two point conversion near the end of regulation to take a one point lead? Of course not. Should the patsies have taken a knee? Again, of course not. Not unless they were in terrible field position. But oh how I wish they had. They had no momentum. The air had gone out of them.
Until we lined up, or lined back on defense. No threat of Leonard Little rushing, forcing a hurried throw by then an unknown punk kid out of michigan, a 7th rounder or something. No threat of a blitzing linebacker or two, or what a time for a safety blitz. Even Arizona State running back J.R. Redmond got into the act with a key recept.
What was Lovie thinking? Here was his chance to add the crowning jewel. Just stop the drive. Win in OT. Wear your Super Bowl ring forever. And become an NFL head coach for two more years than you did.
But no. We drop back and made them beat us. They did.
Rams lose.
And so did the country. For this Rams' team was full of Christians. Christians who weren't afraid of testimonials to Jesus. Christians who always praised God first. When brady spoke he spoke of team and pina coladas. When Warner, Conwell, Bruce, and others spoke, they always mentioned the Lord.
On the final drive, I was praying for a victory, a Ram win which I thought would be good for the country. I kept saying to myself, "Trust Jesus." And I did. Scott was praying, too. He was praying for two Rams fans seated in front of us. Screaming curse words loudly. Scott prayed that they would find Jesus and become followers. He also prayed that he would find peace in defeat or victory. And while I never prayed that prayer, after the winning field goal split the uprights, I felt a peace. And no anger.
God answers prayers. I hope Scott's and mine will be answered soon. But if they're not, I know there's a plan. A reason. And it's God's. And it's certainly better than any plan any man has ever developed, including the preventive defense.
Hey, this is where it all started.
My son, Scott and I went to the Super Bowl. The Rams lost. But we won.
Thanks, Lord for the blessing.

THE NIGHT JOHNNY ALMOST CAUSED MY WIFE INJURY

In 1995 we were invited to join Gov. Jim Edgar on a trade misssion to Europe. As you can imagine, I was spousal. We went the following year to the Far East. At least there, I got to talk to some grade school students and teachers at a school in China. But back to Johnny Depp.

The first time we were in Berlin we were enjoying a night on the Kufiester Daum or Ku Daum which I've still probably misspelled. In the afternoon on this same street or thoroughfare the Gov's bodyguard, a rugged well-built guy had been mugged by two teenage girls. One stole his wallet and stuffed it in her bra. He caught up with them, applied pressure to the girl's wrists and got back his wallet. Of the 25 or so others members of our group spread out all over the Ku Daum, and most less physical than the bodyguard, these girls made a bad choice. But back to Johnny Depp.

There was a beer garden on the street where many people were sitting as they do in Europe enjoying the evening and conversation. Next door to the beer garden was a huge movie complex. There was to be a film opening that night and all the glitz and gala stuff that accompanies it. A chicago recent acquaintance and I felt the street life and beer might be a better choice than getting a glimpse of some older German movie star that the buses and papers had been touting. Interestingly enough, the marquees were announcing in wrap around teletype the incredulous o.j. simpson verdict. But back to Johnny Depp.

Cameras, flood lights, bright lights were washing the Berlin sky, so my friend and I decided to leave our choice seats and observe all the commotion. Johnny Depp (see I told you I'd get to it) and this 80-year old German actress were walking out of the theatre. And the people were going crazy. I found Caroline, stood next to her as a rush of people carried us out into the street. If you've ever been Who"d you know what I mean. You have no contol of where you're going. The crowd rules and you follow. I was nearly hit by a passing bus, but Caroline's left foot was inches from being run over by the bus.

Johnny and the old gal got wisked away, and the crowd broke up. I took my wife, all in one piece, back to the beer garden for some of the best frankfurters I ever had. I still don't know what all the fuss was about.

RODAN NEARLY GOT ME

In fourth grade, Rodan was big back in the late '50's. I mean this huge bird was destroying Japan. Saturday matinees kept a lot of us busy when we weren't playing ball. And we liked Rodan.

I had a teacher in the fourth grade, female of course, remember the era. She had heard that on our bathroom breaks, we were too talkative. Now tell me who would care what fourth grade boys did in the bathroom as long as they weren't destructive.

So a new rule was enforced. One boy would be responsible for writing down the names of anyone talking while in the bathroom. Moronic? You bet. The kicker was that if you got reported xx number of times, you couldn't use the bathroom anymore that week. (This same teacher once substituted for Scott's elementary school class and wouldn't let him leave the room to go to the bathroom because he had a nosebleed. It must have been something about the leftover talking I had run up twenty years prior.)

I decided that on a Friday, we would go to the bathroom and talk to whoever we wanted. Hey, the count started over on Monday so what was the harm? I walked up to a big fifth grader, Lanny Shaw, and said, "Rodan is great." Lanny about died because everybody knew that our class couldn't talk in the john. Three other guys joined in and we talked up a storm.

The little guy that kept score probably had to leave and sharpen his pencil as many times as we four were jabbering. Not loudly, just frequently. When we returned to class, the principal was there. He called us to the front of the room. I knew we were going to get spanked. But it didn't happen. I think he knew it was a stupid rule. In fact, I think that day ended the stupid no talking rule, if I remember correctly.

But years later, she got even. At the expense of my son, Scott.

KANGAROO MAKING ROUNDS REVISITED

A May 27, 1993 article in the MTV Register-News wrote up a story entitled,"Kanagaroo making rounds at local bars."

Bill Reynolds and his wife Jeanne, who currently owns the Custard Shop on 12th and Broadway in MTV, worked for the circus for a number of years. They had acquired a number of animals and kept them in their backyard on Stanley Ave.

Somehow, the kangaroo got loose and a cat named Todd Osborn found him. He thought it would be cool to take him to various bars in town. Someone ratted him out to Bill. Todd returned the animal to an unhappy owner.

Years later I tried joking with Bill about the matter. Sober as a judge, Bill still was not happy about the incident.

Scott has a theory that everyone in the world will pass through Mt. Vernon, Illinois, at least once in their lifetime. I like the idea, kinda like Stephen King's "Cell". But logistically, I think it might be tough. But there are things that happen there. And many times, they get reported in the local paper.

I'm glad I know no more details of where, why, even how the kangaroo spent his evening. Some things are best left to our imaginations.