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LIGHTER SIDE SUPER BOWL DIARY | DAY 2
Who needs sleep anyway?Day two is in the books, and I haven’t slept in 26 hours. So it goes. Those who know me understand that sleep isn’t a necessity.
“Dude … I don’t want to watch the sun rise. Just go to bed.” But there it is, the sun rising on Houston, reflecting off a group of buildings jutting from the city’s soil. Do a 360-degree turn, and about eight of the same type of cluster come into view. You know that landscape of Boston when you’re approaching the lower deck of 93? It’s like that everywhere you turn out here. I know you’ve heard this before, but it’s so true. If Boston is Tom Brady’s midsection, than Houston is Ted Washington’s big old belly. Hey New England … WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? I need some Somerville love … a little bit of Everett tenderness … proof that Patriots Nation is going to represent. In case you didn’t hear, we’re throwing a little party at a place called “Whiskey Chicks Saloon” tomorrow afternoon. There’s going to be a mechanical bull. Need I say anymore? Alright, so yesterday was media day. Here’s the deal. Four months ago I shaved my head for the Red Sox – Cowboy Up, they said! Out of all the work I’ve put into my career, the simplicity of driving a buzzer over my dome and sprinkling the hairs all over the Hall of Fame was the best move yet. Fantastic. Then a couple weeks ago, in true Chuck Barris fashion, I discovered an icon in a frigid Gillette Stadium satellite lot. They call it the Rattle Donkey – a stuffed horse head on a stick. It’s amazing what a little buffoonery can do to a group of people. He is the Lighter Side’s rally monkey (apologies for the comparison). We even have t-shirts … and people are buying them. Or maybe just my family…but thanks, Auntie Sherry. Then yesterday I stood right next to Chris Berman and watched him chat it up with Adam Vinatieri. I put out my hand and asked Boomer to give me a prediction. “No,” he said, but we definitely connected. I actually had a light conversation and shook hands with tight end Daniel Graham, but not the regular way. Well, it started regular, but ended in the same position you would arm wrestle…that swift “we’re-on-the-same-page-P-Diddy-type-shake.” We definitely had a moment. And then … after the hour was up and I was walking up the stairs out of Reliant Stadium, I placed a gentle slap on the arm of a passing Ted Johnson and said, “Good luck Teddy.” “Thanks, man,” he replied. It was magic, and we both felt it. Doesn’t that all make so much sense? Do I even need to sleep? Can I actually remain awake through the entire Super Bowl? I’ve only got about 100-plus hours to go. My head’s on fire. So now I’m off … hitting the airport as the official fan welcoming committee. I figure the Patriots get so much attention, it’s time for the fans to get a little love. So if you get a hug from a guy with bad hair and pungent coffee breath, well – WELCOME TO HOUSTON! I’ve been waiting for you.
See you on the Lighter Side. |
