A rule of thumb

Very Superstitious... (Do that with your eyes closed, a big grin showing your pearly whites and your head swaying). Thanks! Now you can continue reading my contributions to the Steelers win yesterday in the Superbowl Xtra large. The last two weeks have been a headache listening to the countless analysts and their stupid predictions. How the hell can you talk about a game of 60 minutes for 2 weeks? Atleast the last 2 years the analysts have had something to keep coming back to. Last year it was T.O. be or not T.O. be and this year it was the sweet homecoming parade of Jerome Bettis. Thank goodness for that angle since there was nothing to talk about the Seattle except for Jeremy "jaw dropping, catch moving"(wait a minute did I get that mixed up?) Stevens and his shadow brawl from behind Walter Jones with Porter. For if he did not have the big guy to have his back, Porter would have used Stevens' big mouth as a plow on his truck on Sunday morning to make sure all the Steelers fans got through the snow.

Being an ardent Steelers fan from the Happy Valley, it should have been pleasurable to listen and read about one's own team for a change rather than others the past few years. The headache was due to the inner turmoil of whether to party or to stick to the routine. Everyone has those before a big exam, an important meeting or a big game as in this case. We had planned to have a party at our place to watch the game and cheer the Steelers but the inner voice asked of how the Steelers had made it through the playoffs? Not by becoming hot in the last month of regular season, not by studying opposition films to device precise playbooks, not by a throttling defense, not by beating the "supposedly best" team, not by "THE TACKLE", but because I continued watching the game from me occupying the hot seat in the basement and talking to Bill Cowher through our telepathic headsets. So I was caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place. The idea of a party slowly fizzed out and it looked like traditions would be followed. Then when Fatass told me that Sri, Golu had called us over to their place, I was tempted to live dangerously.

Then came the moment of clarity. On the morning of superbowl, Sal Palontonio standing in freezing cold from 11:00 AM for a 6:00 PM game announced that he was outside an undisclosed hotel where Bill "what a sweet scowl that is" Cowher had moved the entire team to to avoid distractions from the media and fans and make it feel like a road game that the Steelers had gotten used to. If the entire team was sticking to its routine, I guessed I could sacrifice a few beers and some wings to stick with my routine. So there I was in my basement (or what is referred to as the Batcave) alone in my house while the whole Happy Valley was having a party. The remote in my right hand on offense and left hand of defense, I won the Steelers one for the Thumb.