Super(ior) part 1 (or: I cannot sleep and am posting this at 5 am)
February 4, 2008 § 3 Comments
From Saturday to Tuesday, the theme of this 4 day stretch is simply: Super(ior). Chronology-wise, something I’ve been known to express thoughts based upon, it starts yesterday with a concert I’ll explain on Tuesday, but now, I focus on the evening of Super Bowl XLII.
To try and avoid alienating those Patriots fans who still read this after the last two posts, I’ll start with something everyone could agree on tonight, Super Pollo‘s rotisserie chicken.
At last night’s Sunset Park Super Bowl festivity, we dined on pizza, hand made guacamole, (the majority) drowned themselves in a variety of beers (Magic Hat Feast of Fools, Guinness, Red Stripe, Dos Equis Lager Especial, and I believe I saw some Brooklyn Brewery), but all the carnivores on hand agreed that Super Pollo’s juicy roto (as it was referred to) chicken was the tastiest damn thing on earth.
Most of the rotisserie chickens I’ve ever had suffered from soggyitis. This makes the bird way too much of a mess and therefore makes you feel like even more of a mess than you were before you decided to go out and buy a really fucking big chicken that’s perfectly ready to be devoured.
I don’t know if you can tell from Ben’s photo (Above photo © Ben Feingold, linked to entry of origin), but this ain’t no wet chicken, not nearly. Juicy, hells to the yes, but soggy, fuckouttahere.
Now that I’ve covered a topic that both the Giants fans in attendance (everybody except those who had money or food wagered on The Once Sure Thing) and Pat and Josh could agree upon*, I have to bring the focus back to Super(ior) and, as Wikipedia informs me he’s called, one sir Elisha Nelson “Eli” Manning.
This won’t be your primary Wikipedia photo for much longer, Manning the Youngest.
That’s more like it. In an unrelated note, I saw Elisha Cuthbert on the street on Saturday in the Meat Packing District. Who’s still reading this? Because I’m not lying.
Because I’m not a real reporter or anywhere close to Arizona, I’ll give you the following quotes copied and pasted from ESPN.com, quotes that show why tonight, Eli Manning was the Superior QB and Tom wasn’t Terrific (Tony the Tiger, reached for comment, wouldn’t even give the guy a half-hearted “grrreat!”)
“The No. 1 thing that bothers me about him is how he reacts to adversity. He gets angry when something bad happens. There is almost that part of him that, it’s not being a jerk, it’s not the side of Tom Brady we don’t know. It’s not that at all. You’ve seen him do interviews. He’s a good person. It’s just his temper. Some people say they love that competitiveness in him. I like the part that is competitive, but not the part that looks like he is blaming everyone else or he is going to be pissed because the guy did not catch it. It’s a temper thing. I would try to manage it better if I were him.” — AFC assistant coach when asked how Brady might be able to improve
Source: ESPN.com’s Mike Sando
Eli isn’t Peyton. Peyton is into control and execution. Eli is cool, which led to earlier criticisms that he wasn’t a leader. To his credit, Eli didn’t get pumped or excited after big plays. He also didn’t get flustered after bad ones. When he missed a wide-open Burress after scrambling free of Richard Seymour with 8:32 left in the fourth quarter, Manning remained composed.
“The guy is incredible,” Gilbride said of Manning. “I don’t think everybody realizes the movement he has. On the play he scrambled and missed Plaxico Burress when he was wide open, most quarterbacks would be devastated. He came back and figured he’d make some plays in the next drive.”
Source: ESPN.com’s John Clayton (the guy who looks like the geeky teacher from early Saved By The Bell)
Speaking of keeping calm under pressure, allow me to show the court Article of Evidence 13442 in the case of Good Sportsmanship v. Bill Belichick:
Walking off the field before the game is over, an almost Boras-Announcing-A-Rod-Move mid-World-Series moment, as the shift of the cameras goes to BatshitCrazy Bill which then in turn brings the rest of the press onto the field. I don’t know if Belichick knew the game wasn’t over, or what the press would do if he ran out on the field. Maybe he was so filled with sadness and fury over his perfect bunch of asshats losing that he lost it all together.
Oh wait, this is Bill Belichick, he’s aware of every fucking thing that happens. Unable to control it tonight, but perfectly fucking aware of the score, the time, and the consequences of his actions. The baby that he proved he is, didn’t care, I think. He just wanted to run as fast as he could to Coughlin and then off the field. Probably to throw away his prewritten victory speech.
How does that all relate to Superior(ity)? Inversely, it shows that mentally, he’s really just a silly inferior motherfucker, who after being spoiled with 18 wins, really can’t take a loss. He doesn’t even get to go home and … well, I’ll let a Deadspin Commentor say it for me:
So, Pats fans, don’t cry for Tom, your Masshole tears should go to Belichick, who tonight, just goes home to cry and do horrible things while wearing those ugly hoodies.
Finally, I never thought I’d get the chance to do this, or even want to, but I’ve got to take this moment to point out that New York’s Papers are Superior to Bostons. I hate the Post as much as anyone (their Obama endorsement still befuddles me though), but even they would recognize the negative sports karma (think jinx) that is accrued by putting the following title up for pre-order on Amazon, and trying to trademark the phrases “19-0” and “19-0 The Perfect Season,” that title, screencapped below is Jinx Evidence at it’s greatest:
Wherein your narrator explains that the Globe is owned by the Times and therefore, even more respect is lost for their Hillary endorsing asses.
The aforementioned NY Post, was silly enough to file trademark papers for 18-1, which now leaves us at:
And so the game left me feeling the same way the Super Pollo felt, perfectly well done. Sweet, and not a mess. Lord knows I’m not the world’s biggest Giants fan, it took me until an hour before kickoff to put voice behind Big Blue (I echoed the note Wilbon sent in from his recovery bed, with a Giants by 1 pick), but the feeling left me the way Charlie Bucket felt after he mopped the floor with the competition: anything can happen. And maybe that bizarre thought is why I can’t get to bed.
Oh, and assuming Collin’s gotten this far, I’d like to remind him of something he said:
Prove yourself wrong, Collin.
Update: 12:08PM Monday: Proven.
* Eric, Mr. Money, the vegetarian he is, can not testify to the superiority of Super Pollo.