Trip to the Super Bowl, Note of TERRIBLE officiating

I want to focus my post today on a trip to the Super Bowl. Since most of us were not at the game yesterday, my cousin J.B. and buddy Grossy put together a compilation of our trip to Jacksonville last year (written Friday before the game last night). Good times. Before I get to that, however, I will say that the Super Bowl yesterday was just another example of the officials deciding the outcome of a game. This is too important to let this happen. The NFL needs to hire full time officials to run these games instead of full time lawyers and doctors who need a hobby and a little spare cash. For example:

• The Pass Interference call on Seattle was a joke. This was a 4 point mistake.
• Roethlisberger did not get in the end zone. The ref on the field started to marek him down and then changed his mind when he saw the ball a second after he was down. Did he not think the ball could move forward after the runner was down? No indisputable video evidence to overturn, so the call stands. That call could have meant the differnece of 4 or even 7 points, depending on whether or not Cowher would have gone for it on 4th down.
• The pass from Hasselbeck to Darrell Jackson could have been ruled a touchdown as his second foot hit the pylon (7 point decision)
• The pass from Hasselbeck to I think Stevens down to the 1 yard line that was called back for Holding was laughable. Even Madden said this was a ridiculous. This was a 14 point call, as Hasselbeck then threw an INT that turned into a touchdown for Pitt.
• The 15 yards they tacked on by calling Hasselbeck for a block below the waist was absurd. He was making a freaking tackle.
• There were a couple others but these decided the game. Seattle was the better team and was robbed by the officials

Now, onto the Super Bowl, let's pretend it's 2005 again. Here is what a trip to the Super Bowl could be like, with J.B.'s take first and Grossy's reaction second.

One year ago today, my cousin Brian, brother Tom, cousin-in-law Brian Getson, and good friend and trusted environmental counselor Mike Gross (a/k/a Laslow) were living like rock stars. We were just excitedly arriving at the executive terminal of the Philly airport to board our company jet to be whisked away to Jacksonville, FLA to look for land, or to go to the Superbowl festivities, depending on who was asking. I distinctly remember Brian Dils boarding the plane with a large bottle of Captain practically duct-taped to his outstretched paw and his for once appropriately too loud guffaw encouraging us to “get on board!” As the plane banked south towards the big game, we fetched cups, cracked cokes, added ice, and poured ample Captain and slurped into the first drink of our in flight buzz. Even Brian Getson threw caution to the wind, turned off his cell phone, took off his wife leash, and had a pop! Landing amongst the true high brow fliers at the Jacksonville executive terminal, we excitedly scurried and stumbled to our rented mini van – yeh, mini van. I think Brian still had the bottle of Captain duct-taped to his outstretched hand. The southern rock radio station guided us ultimately to our haven in Jacksonville beach: A last minute, reasonably affordable internet find that promised a pleasantly pastel colored condo overlooking the beach. Well, remember where you stayed on Spring Break? This condo was more disgusting than that, but we were so amped and buzzed, we forgot to notice until after the Eagles lost.

Friday night was outstanding! The whole beach area was transformed into Eagles’ nation. Eagles’ fans and enthusiasm were rampant. The whole beach area seemed infused with Eagles fans out to prove that Philly is really the loudest, most obnoxious City in the world. Not wanting to disappoint, we quickly joined in and did our part to keep the reputation in tact. I think the Pats fans were too scared to show themselves, until after the Eagles lost, of course. We were so fired up that we did not even notice that Jacksonville Beach is the asshole of the armpit of America and that our digs was the turd from the asshole of the armpit of America. The whole beach area was cordoned off and the beachfront street was open to drunken Eagles’ revelers. Consistent with the asshole of the armpit of America theme, Brian Dils aptly noted that the party there was nothing more than a “bankrupt Mardi Gras.” Nonetheless, we found our way over the a bar called Sneakers and drank a lot and yelled the TO song – remember that one, now so far from us in these lax, post TO years – “TO, TO, TO, TO, . . . TO, TO.” I guess we should have known then, by the mere quality of our poor, weak chant, that TO would be too good to be true. We are Philly fans, after all, ignoring disappointment even when it stares us in the face. Caught up in the moment, however, it was the best damn cheer since that ridiculous Eagles fight song was written! In fact, I was even captured on t.v. news here live from Sneakers with arms raised, double fisted with Captain drinks and dual sweaty armpits, shouting the TO chant to the camera. Friends called my wife to tell her I was drunk from Jacksonville on t.v. in Philly. Her response: As long as there wasn’t a stripper with her tongue in his ear . . . “ Good thing the stripper was on her knees out of camera range during the filming! Mike, Tom, and I went off to see a concert by one of my favorite reggae bands, Steel Pulse. With the Eagles’ loss, the concert remained the highlight of my trip. I don’t remember much after the concert (and Mike remembers less as I can remember him staggering in the street on the walk home), except that later that night Brian yelled really loudly and profanely at Mike and me for continuing to party in the condo at sometime early in the morning after the concert and after Brian was already stretched out on the disgusting excuse for a couch in our roach filthy pastel condo on the beach.

Saturday morning’s haze burned off of our Captain encrusted brains at our late morning breakfast at a Denny’s or some reasonable facsimile thereof. This upcoming moment was and still is the highlight of Brian’s trip, and most likely even one of the highlights of his entire sordid life too: In a packed restaurant filled with hungover Eagles fans waiting to start drinking again, a guy dashes clumsily, loudly, but swiftly past our table near the men’s room. For the next five-minutes we hear him violently and loudly hurling. I mean seriously violently and loudly hurling! The whole back of the restaurant was cracking up, especially as the suspect emerged from the men’s room, looking worse for wear, wiping vomit ridden spittle from the side of his mouth with the back of his hand, and exclaiming proudly to the disgruntled hostess who was waiting to insist that he leave, that, “It’s all good!” The rest of the day was spent drinking and partying in a crowded Jacksonville. Did I tell you that I am singularly unimpressed with this poor, dirty excuse for a City. And that’s pretty profound when you consider that I live in Philly! At any rate, with the hype of the next day’s game, we still managed to stay well-buzzed and happy. Saturday night we could not buy our way into an over-crowded Ruth Chris’, the only legitimate eatery we could find in a town over-packed with fast food stops. We settled for another disgusting fast food meal, eating Wendy’s, but lying on our cell-phones by telling friends we were at Ruth Chris’.

The next morning we had an outstanding tailgate party at some offsite parking lot within walking distance of the stadium. Everyone was amped up and the vibe was electric. The highlight of the tailgate had to be the overzealous, young Eagles’ fans across the lot from us who simply abused a Patriots’ fans’ RV with all kinds of offensive and funny slogans painted on to the outside of the RV. Wonder who had the last laugh when the victorious Pats’ fans came back after the game to confirm that yes, Eagles fans are the most loud and obnoxious in the country?! At any rate, the game itself was, well, the game itself. TO played brilliantly for his injury, and reminded us all why we loved that trite and trivial TO chant. Donovan must have been drinking the night before because he kept throwing up during the game. It couldn’t have been nerves, because he is simply paid too well for that, but I leave the sports analysis to my cuz Brian. The game was exciting and, I thought, pretty close. I know the Pats’ fans sitting near me were nervous for most of it. After the game, Mike and I took our lumps and hobbled from our now really gross condo on the beach through the now deserted Jacksonville Beach streets with no Eagles fans to be seen anywhere back to Sneakers for a few misery beers. Pats fans were there, but oddly quiet and unrowdy. I gather that winning several superbowls in a row breeds apathy and expectation. At any rate, the whole experience was once-in-a lifetime for this Eagles’ fan and is fondly remembered on this day, one year later . . . What a difference a year makes . . . Whose playing this Sunday? Where’s my jet? And can I please have a Captain with that . . .AND NOW ONTO GROSSY'S REACTION
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An excellent recap. I respectfully submit the following comments for the sake of completeness:

1. I believe the Southern Fried Rock Station play "Godzilla" by Blue Oyster Cult no less than four times that weekend.

2. Brian's Friday night anger manifested itself in the following events: (1) the threat of throwing my IPOD "into the ocean"; (2) the death of a mostly cooked frozen pizza which was relegated to the condo's plastic trash can; (3) a scared Gross and JB huddling together for safety on the balcony wondering whether it was safe to go back into the condo.

3. The name of the Saturday breakfast spot was Perkins. And since Dils' blog seems to be laden with potty references, we immediately had to find a shitter for T and myself which was unfortunately at the Hess Station.

4. The man who closely resembled Hitler at Sneakers on Saturday night and the guy who kept following him around giving him the "sig heil!" salute. The same sig heil guy lifted up his gal's mini skirt to reveal a Patriots' tattoo on her upper thigh which he smacked as hard as he could.

5. Brian calling the Wake Forrest fan at Sneakers that same night "a cocksucker with ears".

6. The slogan spray painted on the Patriots' fans RV at the pre-game tailgate?: "You've Got A Long Ride Home Bitches!"

7. The TO song on Sunday night at Sneakers turned into taunts at JB and me of "TB...TB...TB...TB..." (you know how the tune goes).

8. The Catfish plane nearly getting decked by a 747 upon our misery landing in PHL on Monday.

9. Brian leaving a bowl of unfinished cereal and milk next to the sink for three straight days. Not good times....