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Now available for preorder:
The San Francisco Panorama.
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These picks are not intended for use by people who gamble, and will generally not contain rhymes, question marks or other tall punctuation. Residents of Fairbanks, Alaska, Hebardville, Georgia, and Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin may find the picks to be the exact opposite of what is stated in the text as it actually occurs on said web page/browsing device. Readers of predictions may be asked, at some point during the upcoming football season, to spend an afternoon with a marketing intern from a nearby state college, sampling various advancements in the field of snack foods, canned sodas, pudding, sherbet, ethnic sitcom pilots, hand-held paging and reference devices, and filling out surveys. - - - - SUPER BOWL Last week: 1-1
Super Bowl pick: Rams Note: Please come to the Parkside Lounge, 317 E. Houston (at Attorney) in New York City on Super Bowl Sunday for a disappointing party. HOW WILL WE CELEBRATE Provo, UT
Cambridge, MA
Fergus Falls, MN
Glasgow, Scotland
Tulsa, OK
Scranton, PA
Missoula, MT
Greensboro, NC
Taipei
Portland, ME
Marseilles, France
Phoenix, AZ
Urbana, IL
Miami, FL
New York, NY
Albuquerque, NM
Paris, France
Houston, TX
Washington D.C.
Kansas City, MO
Oslo, Norway
Banff, Canada
Ann Arbor, MI
Lake Charles, LA
Pensacola, FL
Lawrence, KS
Eau Claire, WI
St. Louis, MO
- - - - PLAYOFFS, WEEK THREE Last week: 3-1.
This week:
The pigskin prognostication will be ending soon. I am in a transitional phase and a lot of my side-projects have serious glitches. To wit: 1) The musical is failing. The gamble paid off initially--how does 35 bucks a week until St. Patrick's Day sound to you? No kidding, that's what I thought. That is not small potatoes. That's cable, Reader's Digest, and a bushel of caramel apples. Weekly. I am being paid this sum to "fix" some songs in an Ice Capades-meets-hard news fiasco called "Dawn Fratangelo on Hot Ice." Some goofball at MSNBC called me on Christmas morning to recruit me for the task. But what rhymes with Fratangelo? Nothing. Plus there are no Tim Russert clones that can skate. It isn't physically possible. I just try and concentrate on the songs, but I keep seeing the auditions. They were cruel. Fifteen would-be Russerts in a fake warming house with union jack suits on. The hind-flaps all open, the Russerts angrily warming their digits with garlic breath, sharpening figure skates and begging for seconds on porridge. 2) "Never You Mind" KingWorld optioned my game show idea for senior citizens and amnesia victims, but now they're telling me they're having second thoughts. Why? Because it's a scavenger hunt involving house keys, family heirlooms and a "playing field" from Baltimore to Bogota? Because it involves the constant use of certified mail and various rubber stamps? Because it involves blindfolds and interstates and putting faith in truckers, cheesemakers, and city managers of towns with wooden lamps and abandoned lighthouses? This is not what the American people want, they say. Of course, they didn't think they wanted football picks either. 3) Getting some spa appointments for Jets' super fan Ed Anzalone. 4) Further development of a cyber version of "Sunset Boulevard" starring holograms of Martha Raye and a much younger, and svelte Alan Hale, Jr. 5) Further employment of the maxim, "Carefrontation, not Confrontation," in my everyday life. 6) "The Hollandaise Affair," a play about all the truth serum the CIA is putting in the pancake batter at several 24-hour restaurants in Eugene, Oregon, to combat Indian gaming. Ray Liotta, a frequent collaborator, stars as a gambling addict whose wife teams up with the government to get him away from the craps tables. Ruth Buzzi in a perfect cameo. 7) Prison Lecture Tour. See #5. That is how I open my speech. People want to listen. The chess sets all go under the folding chairs when the warden announces me. I am tired because I will only travel by bus. The inmates in the plains states will be the toughest. There's no Riker's Island posturing there, but they feel defeated by the weight of their sentences. 8) A series of toy ideas: Zuckles, the chimp with the 5 o'clock shadow. This is a toy for all the early shavers out there, because they are, in fact, out there. Why there was a boy in my third grade class who always came in from afternoon recess looking like Richard M. Nixon? There's a stigma out there that involves facial hair and prepubescent kids who play with action figures, and I'm trying to end it. Directions: Kids, insert 6 AA batteries in Zuckles and put him in the fridge overnight. In the morning he'll be ready for a shave, but don't get any on his suspenders--he'll be very angry. Zuckles' facial hair is made from a magnesium sulfate byproduct. Keep away from toddlers and combustible materials. Zuckles comes with two razors, one can of Zuckles Shaving Cream and three pairs of suspenders. 9) Leather Dockers (with pleats). - - - - PLAYOFFS, WEEK TWO Last week: 2-2. Miami at Jacksonville - Jacksonville
Ditka's Other Job The phone rang. It was just after 2 a.m. It had been almost fourteen hours since the New Orleans Saints had fired Mike Ditka, and I wasn't expecting a call, but there he was on the other end of the line. "Ditka calling." He sounded businesslike. Not angry -- just to the point. "Hey coach. Sorry about the bad news," I said, propping an elbow up on my pillow and wiping the sleep out of my eyes. "Never mind that stuff. I'm gonna need to use you for a reference. Tell me I can use you for a reference." "Of course. Jeez, you don't waste any time. What's the gig?" "Wally's Carpet and Tile. Down here in Slidell. There's an opening at the berber counter. We'll start there and see what happens. It is too early to make any predictions. Owner's a real nice guy, though. Wants to win. We'll take a look at the linoleum inventory first, then assess the rest of the situation. Rumor has it that they're short on jute-backed carpeting, but other than that it sounds like a good deal." "Sure, no problem, Mike," I said. "Give them my number." Here we go again, I thought. I first met Ditka when the Chicago Bears fired him after the ugly 1992 campaign. He had taken a job at Medieval Times in Schaumburg to humble and humiliate himself even further. He said he needed to relearn everything from the bottom up. He wanted to get back in touch with real people who were unspoiled by professional sports. Medieval Times offered a team-like environment, and even though he started out as a mere stable boy, the danger of the nightly joust and utensil-free dinner was too much of an attraction to turn down. So he signed on with them. It was by no means an easy deal. He had to sit down with Paul Gullickson, the assistant stable manager, and do a proper interview. A couple of days later he went back and met Duane Rivera, the day stable supervisor. It was a good chat. They shook hands, and Ditka produced his driver's license, a second form of ID, filled out a W-2, the whole works. They gave him a pail, a wire brush, some soap, a book on horses, a laminated guide to hoof and mouth disease, a video on dressage techniques for Spanish Andalusian horses, and an apron. He said he didn't want to cause any trouble about the apron, but that he preferred aprons that were cut wider through the middle because he was older and had some excess girth through his belly. Kitchen aprons and stable aprons have a different cut, and Ditka was used to kitchen aprons. They said that was okay. Then they told him to report at 8 a.m. the next Saturday. Ditka was in charge of easy stuff at first: morning scrubbings, morning feedings, hay and oats stocking and shit shoveling. Ditka took pride in shoveling shit, but he was very shy and kept to himself. He briefly flirted with growing a medieval mullet, like so many of the flashier knights had taken to wearing, but gave up when his wife said that he looked like the lead singer from the Scorpions. After three weeks, he was promoted to stable manager, which is par for the course at any medieval-themed restaurant that features jousting knights and horses. He still kept climbing though. Later, he took over the kitchen, did the nightly deposits, hung those window-clingy decals, did the tournament line-ups (There was no way 306-lb Anthony "Frog" LaGrubkke was riding against 114-lb Pierre Pimperson--Ditka didn't care if the guy had a Bola, a Lance, and an Alabarda, it was just unfair.) implemented "Wench Night," and was forever working bargains on bulk shipments of turkey drumsticks. He even coined the term, "Dinner & Tournament." He had hired probably the best fry cook in town, this hotshot high school sophomore, who had really done some innovative stuff at Taco Bell. Ditka saw a prodigy and wanted him bad. He laid off a bunch of workers to get the kid in at the price the kid's parents wanted. By the time Ditka left, the kid had invented like six or seven of his own bastes for fowl, pork, beef, you fucking name it. He didn't stop there. Ditka had his wenches and serfs blacken their teeth and dirty their fingernails before serving meals. "If you're running a restaurant based on a feudal society, all I know is the servers had better be ugly and filthy, otherwise it is a sham," he'd scream. Moves like that were not uncommon during Ditka's regime at Medieval Times. He pulled the company out of an Elgin community college job fair, losing the potential for a lot of very cheap, docile labor. Ditka was betting it all on the crew he had at the time. It was dangerous, sexy and insane. Ditka was juggling management, cooks, a wait staff, a janitorial staff, the jousters, jockeys, the stable boys and one freelance veterinarian. He often put in 16-hour days. Mondays were the worst. He'd deconstruct videotape of the last week's tournaments. "Who is that pansy with the purple shield? You call that a Levade? That bastard couldn't do a Levade on a merry-go-round!" Anyway, when the trouble surfaced (with Ditka, the trouble always eventually surfaces) I was a cub reporter with the Schaumburg Shopper, and a huge Bears fan. Naturally, when a Medieval Times employee called us one afternoon about a press conference, I begged to go. On the phone, the woman mentioned something about a small incident involving broken armor. I said I'd be right over. When I got there, the last ambulance was leaving. A woman shuffled me and a few reporters (the Elgin Tattler, the Kenosha Bugle, the Marengo Town Crier, and even a guy from the Muncie Telegram) to the VIP seats in the arena stands. Behind us stood a few jowly customers (fathers and sons) in Bears paraphernalia. Ditka walked in wearing a yellow cape, and maroon silk trousers. His set of fifty-odd keys were dangling from a U-ring on his belt. His face was covered with light soot. He sat down at a folding table on the arena floor in front of the stands. There was a pitcher of water, and each reporter got a napkin and a giant carrot. Each carrot must have been ten pounds. A Medieval Times employee put all of our tape recorders in front of Ditka. The Bears fans shushed their kids. Ditka said, "Well, let's go." Me: Mr. Ditka, could you talk a little bit about the armor incident? Ditka: Well, I'm not here to talk about rib specials. [nervous laughter] Ditka: One of our knights, Gary, had been using a Bola that hadn't been inspected for quite some time. Me: What is a Bola? Ditka: A Bola is like a chain mail. Any double plus book has that kind of info, so get with the program or get out. Anyway, today during a contest, it broke and the spiked part brained a small hog that had been providing some atmosphere for us. [an unsettling pause] Listen, I'm not gonna sit here and bullshit you guys, but I would be doing this franchise an injustice if I didn't tell you that the horses looked great today. The salad greens were crisp. The gruel was thick and frothy. The toilets were clean. We were hitting on all cylinders. And then this happens. No one wants a dead pig on their hands, guys. Some other guy: Hey Mike, John Garrity, Marengo Town Crier. Ditka: Go ahead John. John Garrity: So no people were hurt? Just a pig? Any damage to the facility? Have they sent out a claims adjuster or anything, yet? Ditka: No, no people were hurt. Sometimes animals are almost people though. You guys know that. No one except for the SFD has been here. Not OSHA, not State Farm, nobody. It was mainly an iron spiked ball and a pig, but it looks bad, fellas. There's not a lot you can say, except that I'm pretty disappointed. Me: Who was actually in charge of Bola repair? Ditka: I'm not going to get into that. I'm not going to point fingers. There's not one employee that blew it here today. We're all to blame. Me: Isn't that actually part of one person's job though, the armor repair, I mean? Ditka: Sure, but it could have happened to any one of us. Some other guy: Mike? Pete Baldwin, Kenosha Spectacle. I worked in the armor repair game for a while. Maybe you've heard of the Racine Renaissance Festival? No disrespect, but this is the sort of thing that happens when an armor crew really isn't prepared. That was pretty much the end of Ditka's tenure at the Medieval Times. You can imagine the tirade that ensued. He then went to NBC to do NFL studio work, and then of course he got back in the game itself. But if you find yourself in a little town north of New Orleans and someone suggests an afternoon of tile, grout, and carpet shopping, don't be surprised if you see Ditka behind the counter, slowly turning purple. - - - - PLAYOFFS, WEEK ONE Last week: 10-5
Here are the playoff picks: Buffalo at Tennessee --Tennessee.
And here's a post-holiday guide to ending relationships without initiating any direct break-up talk: 1) Start referring to your money as "moolah." 2) Start introducing your boyfriend/girlfriend as your "lover." 3) Go to the movies. After the previews end, get up and say, "Well, that's that," and leave. Or, if it is a sad movie, start bawling uncontrollably just as the lights go down. Go into convulsions. Buy a bag of popcorn and remove the contents and breathe into the bag while crying. If you cannot cry, and the person you're dating sniffles even once, stand up and announce loudly, hands on hips, "See, I knew this was going to happen!" 4) Start referring to former Minnesota Twins catcher Tim Laudner as often as possible. Be reminded of him constantly. Everything reminds you of former Minnesota Twins catcher Tim Laudner: children playing in the park, the way the light peaks through the window above the stairs, your girlfriend's bare back. On long oceanside walks, and just before bed, wonder aloud, "I wonder how ol' Tim Laudner's doing..." When your boyfriend/girlfriend expresses confusion, just shake your head and sigh and say, "Oh Tim!" 5) Every time you drop or spill or have to carry something, say, "Little help here." 6) Go to the Salvation Army. Buy one pillow, and one floral-printed housecoat. Stuff the pillow in the back of your underwear. Tuck it in good. Then put the housecoat on and spend the day at an area Denny's rocking to and fro in a booth. Go home and watch nothing but "Booknotes" on C-SPAN. Admire the twinkle in George W. Bush's eye and say, "Someday, that man could be president." 7) Make up dances called "The Lake Superior," and "The Salt Lake Shuffle." Teach them to your boyfriend or girlfriend. Teach them to his or her parents, and insist that all of you practice together. When they do not pick up the dances quickly enough, tell them that they are doing so only to hold you back from attaining your dreams. And finally, most importantly: 8) Write angry letters to people who predict football outcomes on the web. - - - - WEEK SEVENTEEN Last Week: 9-6.
New Orleans at Carolina - Prediction: Carolina. Arizona at Green Bay - Now that Green Bay is basically out of contention, R.W. Fitzsimmons, 61, of De Pere has forgotten about the NFL, and recruited his children to "start bringing some of that crap up from the basement, so's I can get a look at it." The Fitzsimmons family will not be watching the game on Sunday, they'll be helping their dad test and sort all the whistles, kazoos and aquarium timers that he has collected since the government decided to start giving him checks every month for his problems. Whistles, kazoos and aquarium timers that still function properly will go in a giant cardboard box marked, "Good," and the rest won't be thrown away, they'll go in a box marked, "To Be Fixed." Prediction: Green Bay. Baltimore at New England - Things NFL Announcers Did Not Say This Season: "We're Fox's D-Team, so this afternoon we'll be bringing you the Falcons-Eagles game. There must be over 300 people here already. A little about me: my name is Doug, and I spent last evening alone in a hotel room watching the Game Show Network, ordering microwave pizzas from room service, and sulking." "Sure, I'm worried about the murders, the steroids, the shoplifting... but I am really concerned about the glue." Announcer A: "This guy hits like a semi, but have you ever read his senior thesis? About Chaucer? Pure genius."
Announcer A: "I could really go for some Earl Grey tea and an Ang Lee video right now."
Prediction: New England. Detroit at Minnesota - This is what Vikings' Fan Pete "Chicken" Anderson has done:
Prediction: Minnesota. Oakland at Kansas City - Prediction: Kansas City. Seattle at NY Jets - An Open Letter to Jets' Fans:
St. Louis at Philadelphia - Prediction: St. Louis. NY Giants at Dallas - Let's talk about "Magnolia" instead. If Paul Thomas Anderson is such a genius, why is he dating Fiona Apple? I liked "Hard 8" and "Boogie Nights," but "Magnolia" was just too long to stomach. He could have shaved about an hour off of it and it would have been amazing. William H. Macy shines as yet another hapless coward, and John C. Reilly, who has been in all of Anderson's movies, should have an Oscar for each one of them. He's always cast as the big dumb gentle stooge, but what's really important is the other night I had a dream about Julianne Moore. She was in a weird skirt near a pool table and madly in love with me. Prediction: Dallas. Tampa Bay at Chicago - Prediction: Chicago. Cincinnati at Jacksonville - Historic Christmastime Scrabble Maneuvers:
Indianapolis at Buffalo - Prediction: Indianapolis. Miami at Washington - Prediction: Washington. Tennessee at Pittsburgh - From Nashville correspondent David Berman, the best places to get your haircut in Nashville on New Year's Eve: A Hairy Business San Diego at Denver - Prediction: Denver. San Francisco at Atlanta - With both teams pretty much done for the season, unemployed taxidermist Dwight Dunlap, 43, of Palo Alto, will blow off watching the game and make his public access pilot pitch to sassy local meteorologist Punkin Starbladder, 27, at an as-yet-undisclosed-area Bennigan's. (His treat.) The pilot is about a turn of the millennium gumshoe (Tron meets Nash Bridges meets Don Quixote) whose sidekick is a sassy local meteorologist. The script hasn't been written. There are only two characters-the detective and the sassy local meteorologist. Dunlap thinks it will write itself once Starbladder commits. Prediction: Atlanta. - - - - WEEK SIXTEEN Last week: 10-5. Season: 134-77-4. Week Sixteen Dallas at New Orleans -- Please note: On Super Bowl Sunday, I am hosting an event at the Parkside Lounge, 307 E. Houston Street, New York, NY. High-octane merriment, co-anchored by Hunter Kennedy, proprietor of a magazine called The Minus Times. Details to come. Prediction: Dallas. Denver at Detroit -- Mediocre Christmas Druids. Prediction: Detroit. Buffalo at New England -- True Tales of My Days at the Wire Service, Volume 83: In the dead of winter there were college basketball, college hockey, college football, professional football, professional basketball and professional hockey games to report. At every contest there would be a stringer calling the sports desk with updates. We had to type in all the scores and send them out over the wire as fast as possible. The worst scenario was a college basketball game in Hawaii. You couldn't go home until 5 a.m. The phones rang every second of the night. The stringers were usually pleasant because they got paid to go to the games. There were a few self-important jackasses though. This guy (we'll call him Smith) in Los Angeles had no patience. I dreaded his calls. Me: Hello. Smith: [crowd noise] From the Pond in Anaheim, I have another goal. Me: [chewing pastrami] Shit. Prediction: Buffalo. Indianapolis at Cleveland -- Prediction: Indianapolis. Jacksonville at Tennessee -- Prediction: Tennessee. Cincinnati at Baltimore -- Wire Service, Volume 83, continued: Smith: Okay, the goal was by Teppo Numminen, with 4:32 left in the third and... Me: Newman? Who? (I hate hockey, and the algebra of spelling all the Latvian, Siberian and Portuguese names sent me into a panic.) Smith: Numminen! Jesus balls! Don't you know these guys? Anyway, Teppo Numminen, his 34th goal of the season, assist from Urvalisko Muurz and Dioojwtl Veenssianowskittz, on the power play and the goalie was Vlad Wafflesteinorajko. Me: Okay. Is Muurz with two R's? Smith: U's, dammit, U's! C'mon. I can't believe this. Me: And Dioojwtl... Smith: Yeah, you might note that it was Veenssianowskittz's 18th assist on short-handed, third period goals. Okay? Me: [computer has now frozen, scrambling for ballpoint pen] Got it! Smith: Could you put me on with someone else? Prediction: Baltimore. Minnesota at NY Giants -- Prediction: Giants. NY Jets at Miami -- Transcripts of Equipment Manager Tantrums, Part One. Miami Dolphins Headquarters, Last Wednesday. EM (Equipment Manager): ...You're a moron. You bought Tide? EM's assistant (henceforth referred to as EMA): [Response garbled on tape. Subject was near a cooling fan for most of the conversation.] EM: Have we ever used Tide? Now I gotta situation. You tell Jimmy Johnson what you did. Colors bleeding into everything. Tide. Holy Jesus! EMA: [more garbling something about..."7-11 on Crawford Pkwy"] EM: So you just grabbed Tide? Off of the shelf, like it didn't matter? Like you hadn't seen me using Clorox since July? And then you raced back here and screwed up all of our jerseys? EMA: [garbled...something about "North Dakota State...always used Clorox"] EM: Lovely. A team that looks like fairies plays like fairies. If I can't trust...oh forget it. I am trying to delegate a little here. Could you put down your decaf and act like you give a crap about what I am trying to tell you? You know one day, you might say, I don't know, jeez, when you're working in the CBA, or the roller derby, or what ever second-rate organization will have you, umm, I don't give a shit where, you might say, "I learned something when I was with the Dolphins." EMA: [garbled] EM: That's so funny that you don't think you'll be working for a CBA team. I'll tell you, Charlie the CBA is too good for you. Arena football is too good for you. High school wrestling is like Yale to you. You should consider yourself lucky. EMA: [again, garbled] EM: You're probably hoping we don't make the playoffs. And the trunks! We got three of them, all with one stray wheel always pulling them into the wall. Try pushing them through the airport. EMA: [garbled] Prediction: Miami. Arizona at Atlanta -- Transcripts of Equipment Manager Tantrums, Part Two. EM: You don't sit on them! Try and be a little more professional. It isn't a goddamn choo-choo train. EMA: [garbled] EM: Your weight? Sweet Jesus, I don't care about your weight! We're trying to move in and out of airports in a professional manner, capeesh? You and Dwight nearly mowed down three toddlers on Sunday night. EMA: [garbled] EM: Pardon me, your majesty. Anyway, I go into Vic's toolbox and he damn near has a coronary. Like it is his toolbox. Like Huizenga didn't put up the money to buy the tools in the first place... EMA: [garbled] EM: What? Yeah, of course Vic picked 'em out of the catalog. Of course. Are they his property though? So I say, you fix it. He says, I ain't got time. I say well I got a friggin' pile of shoulder pads that need new friggin' clips. I'm gonna be wading through those all morning, God forbid you should help out. Who's the intern? That kid from Valpo? He's dumber than you. Prediction: Arizona. Carolina at Pittsburgh -- One thing I don't like about having a new job is that at my old job I could always answer the phone in two ways, either by yelling "Slaughter Yard," or "Soup Kitchen," into the receiver. I can't really do that now. Prediction: Pittsburgh, a going-away present for Cowher. Chicago at St. Louis -- Prediction: St. Louis. Oakland at San Diego -- Prediction: Oakland. Kansas City at Seattle -- Prediction: Seattle. Green Bay at Tampa Bay -- Prediction: Green Bay. Washington at San Francisco -- Prediction: Washington. - - - - WEEK FIFTEEN Last Week: 10-4. Season: 124-72-4. Pittsburgh at Kansas City - By now everyone can tell that I hate football, I am sick of writing about it, sick of watching it, sick of hearing about it. So I will make the predictions, but also inform you of area events this weekend. Kansas City Public Library. The one on Thomas Street. There's gonna be a guitar recital by hometown hero Wade Conners. Conners, 23, is home on Christmas break from guitar college in Encino. He thinks he's too good for his old friends, and has taken to wearing only a black leather vest even though it is only 43 degrees. He also refuses to get up before noon, walk the family dog, or even hide his three-foot turquoise Graphix bong from his parents. "It is who I am. The weed opens up other channels for me. Christine [ex-girlfriend, on the lingerie sales floor at Donaldson's] is gonna shit when she hears my new stuff, bro." Prediction: Both events will be bad. Kansas City will win. Green Bay at Minnesota - The T-Shirt Experiments, Volume One: Once when a friend and I were going to a Bears vs. Vikings game at the Metrodome, we saw this pothead outside trying to sell these lilac-colored T-shirts that simply said, "Packers Suck" on them. He was the kind of guy, early thirties, probably lived at home, his Mom still made him French Toast, washed his undies and took phone calls from irate Blockbuster employees for him... you know the drill. Anyway, the Vikes weren't even playing the Packers, but this guy was getting fifteen bucks a piece for them. So I had one of my entrepreneur friends, P. Blaine Bundy, look into the matter. He "found" a box of 100 pine green T-shirts, and then "found" someone who'd print "Vikings Suck" in heavy yellow lettering around a classic football design for cheap. We got the shirts for about a buck and a half each, payable after the experiment. That was crucial. It was early December, freezing cold, and the Packers were playing the Vikings in Minneapolis on Monday Night Football. It was dangerous, but we brought the shirts to this little pre-game boardwalk of beer stands, fried cheese and frustrated shock jocks outside of the stadium. At first, before Vikings fans were drunk, they were good-natured about it all. Ha ha. But there were a lot of Packers fans (this was pre-meltdown, when Bill Schroeder was obviously going to get cut, not get the team MVP) too, and by ten minutes to kickoff we had sold about 95 shirts at ten bucks a pop. We had enough money to scalp tickets and eat nachos, drink beer, whatever. That's when it got ugly. There were Vikings fans who couldn't get in to the game, and they saw us with the shirts and freshly scalped tickets. I was called "motherfucker" sixty or seventy times. I ducked about a dozen punches, and I sprinted away from ornery gangs of hockey moms. But you know what? I got into that game and I had a damn good time. Prediction: Packers. San Francisco at Carolina - Abner O'Brien, 57, of suburban Charlotte, has repeatedly called his son-in-law Kyle Davies about possibly singing Christmas carols in O'Brien's Angels, a barbershop group he put together thirty-six years ago (though he's chickened out of every performance they've been offered). Mostly the men never really practice, they just sit around clipping their fingernails, drinking lukewarm Maxwell House coffee, watching O'Brien have anxiety attacks near his model railroad set, and pretending that they've invested in web start-ups when they really haven't. Davies told me that they have a gig at a nursing home on Saturday, and O'Brien has threatened to get his grandchildren a sack of coal if Davies doesn't come along. Prediction: Carolina. N.Y. Giants at St. Louis - Rams' coach Dick Vermeil has set up a mentor program called "Little Dicks," for young kids who know they have absolutely no athletic skills and just want to coach. Prediction: Rams. New Orleans at Baltimore - Douglas Cook, 23, of Annapolis, has spent every weekend since Labor Day in the family basement, getting the slide show ready and jumping rope in preparation for Christmas. He has a small Sanyo tape deck and for big laughs, plans to incorporate some ABBA and Captain & Tennille, especially during the six-slide phase documenting his father's unfortunate Naval hazing. His cute sister-in-law's sister usually grudgingly comes over once a year, and after three and a half hours of awkwardness, there's usually five or six minutes of conversational bliss. There is a lot of underarm sweat, and side-of-mouth spittle. It is tough. He has written and rewritten the script for the slideshow 400 or 420 times in the last month, incorporating some of Jay Leno and Bobby Collins's finer material, and also several key lines out of Barry Levinson films. Saturday and Sunday he's got to get his shit together, because this is his last chance to practice it. Godspeed, Douglas. Prediction: Baltimore. N.Y. Jets at Dallas - Jets' coach Bill Parcells took a sorely needed day off last Tuesday to gloat over his big win against Miami. First he got into one of those Laurel and Hardy/Babe Ruth-style one-piece bathing suits for men -- you know, the kind that have stripes and look like overalls, sorta. Then he got some Fritos. Then he filled up a saucepan full of Epsom salts and soaked his feet and watched his soaps, which he hasn't seen since May, thank you very much. Then around 3:35 he told a Bible salesman who knocked on his door that he could go screw himself. Prediction: Dallas. Atlanta at Tennessee - Dollywood. Half-price admission. On the Teddy Roosevelt stage, Fred Thompson the politician/actor will do a kind of spoken-word Henry Rollins thing about his relationship with Lori Morgan, tree surgery, and other heavy stuff. Prediction: Tennessee. Detroit at Chicago - In the Algonquin room, Sunday, at the Elgin Days Inn, a dangerous sect of the Promise Keepers attempts to define "mental masturbation." Prediction: Chicago. Jacksonville at Cleveland - The Shaker Heights Showdown, a co-ed round-robin shuffleboard/swinging event begins Sunday and lasts until Christmas Eve. Babysitters and free laundry are part of the six-dollar cover charge. No photocopied IDs, or open sores, please. Prediction: Jacksonville. New England at Philadelphia - Let's check in on Old Salts, shall we? Me: How is your Christmas shopping going? Old Salts: Not so good. Thanks a lot for using me in your picks this year. You think I don't have Internet access? Jesus, am I that much of a lummox? I'm too dense to hammer out that goddamn URL to that whack-job website? You said I went to prison? You think your mother is happy about all of this? She's not, I can assure you. Me: It was all in good fun, Grandpa. Old Salts: Good fun? Was Korea good fun? Is making fun of the fact that my wife cheated on me good fun? Making that public knowledge? Me: Say, have you got a couple hundred bucks? My rent is going up. Old Salts: Yeah, I'll get you a check. How'd you like all that soup Grandma brought up on the Greyhound for ya? Me: Not bad. Old Salts: Not bad? Jesus, you got some nerve. She had to freeze it to carry it up there. You think a pot of frozen soup in your lap for two hours is fun? Take the Eagles this week. San Diego at Miami - On Sunday, Miami's Happiness Kids are selling vials of Santa's bath water at the Hi-Lo Mall to finance a January trip to the Atlantic City Drum and Bugle Corps National showcase. Prediction: Miami. Washington at Indianapolis - If the Super Bowl -- which I think the Colts are going to win this year -- is the senior prom, this malicious ass-kicking of the Redskins is just a feeble, yet oddly beneficial 9th grade grope at a rundown roller-skating rink. Prediction: Indianapolis. BAD GAMES:
- - - - WEEK FOURTEEN Last Week: 6-6-1
Oakland at Tennessee -- Hank Roenick and the Shawtown
Drugbust,
Part One:
New England at Indianapolis -- The old lead singer of Van Halen, Gary Cherone, unbearable meatball, has his own website (http://www.cherone.com). He's from Boston. Prediction: Indianapolis. Cleveland at Cincinnati -- Hank Roenick and the
Shawtown
Drugbust, Part Two:
Baltimore at Pittsburgh -- Prediction: Baltimore. NY Giants at Buffalo -- Prediction: Buffalo. Philadelphia at Dallas -- The NFC East is the UPN of the NFL. Prediction: Dallas. Arizona at Washington -- This is like finding a bottle of Windsong perfume in the sock drawer at your Grandpa's house. And he lives alone. And he hasn't had female companionship in a decade. Prediction: Washington. Carolina at Green Bay -- Wrigglesworth, Part One:
St. Louis at New Orleans -- Wrigglesworth, Part Two:
San Diego at Seattle -- Wrigglesworth, Part Three:
Miami at NY Jets -- I know there is a depressed Jets' season ticket holder who reads McSweeney's. Give me your ticket this week. E-mail me. Prediction: Jets. Atlanta at San Francisco -- Gruesome. Prediction: San Francisco. Detroit at Tampa Bay -- Hank Roenick and the Shawtown
Drugbust,
Part Three: Minnesota at Kansas City -- Prediction: Minnesota. Denver at Jacksonville -- I wonder how many girls got cornered by a drunken John Denver at chalet parties? I think about it a lot. I think he bawled his way through sexual encounters, too. But I also think he was an alien, too. Let me just run this by you: Born in Roswell, N.M. Constantly trying out experimental aircraft. I think he was so sad because he was stuck on earth and always trying to go "home." Prediction: Jacksonville. - - - - WEEK THIRTEEN I went 7-8 last week.
Week 13. Green Bay at Chicago - Concessionaire Stories, Part One. Doug McMahon, 67, worked at Wrigley Field when the Bears played there. He saw Gale Sayers at his finest. Doug would bring home bags of hot peanuts for his wife Audrey and child Nathan. He listened to flute music on the record player, and they always paid the gas bill on time. They had a little cozy apartment. Nathan would always ask, "How are the Bears doing, Dad?" And Doug would chuckle and say, "Son, I just sell hot peanuts. I am a vendor. Want more milk?" And then he'd laugh and pour the little boy some more milk. Then when Nathan was about fourteen, Doug came home on a chilly Sunday night, and the boy was wearing a wool skirt and trying to ignite the family Christmas tree with an old kerosene-doused Cub Scout uniform. Doug said, "Wha?" And Nathan said, "Listen here, Pops, we're doing things my way! This is what I think of your lousy peanuts!" Prediction: Bears. Indianapolis at Miami - Post Game Cocktail Waitress Stories, Part One.
New Orleans at Atlanta - I sure hope Mike Ditka gets a break this week. Prediction: New Orleans. Jets at Giants - If all goes well, my column next week will be written from the press box of this game. All you can do is pray. If everyone who sent me an essay prays, faxes, emails and calls the New York Giants this week and begs them to let me in, it might happen. Remember, they are the New York Giants, but when you call information the area code is 201. Let's get cracking, you slobs! Prediction: Jets' coach Sweet Billy Parcells dusts off a win versus his "ex-old lady." St. Louis at Carolina - Gross. Prediction: St. Louis. San Francisco at Cincinnati - Stop a co-worker today and ask him to spell Cincinnati. Right on the spot like that. If he scoffs, say, "But you're wife SURE knows how to spell it," and elbow him in the ribs. If he says, "I'm not married," then you say, "It figures, you ugly sack of shit." Then go sit down at your desk and yell, "Nobody talk to me while I'm coloring," and wave a crayon around like a switchblade. Prediction: Cincinnati. Tennessee at Baltimore - Concessionaire Stories, Part Two.
Washington at Detroit - Today is the day that you atone for your sins, Bobby Ross. Prediction: Washington. Philadelphia at Arizona - Nope. Prediction: Arizona. Cleveland at San Diego - Post Game Cocktail Waitress Stories, Part Two.
Prediction: San Diego Seattle at Oakland - Unedited fan email hot off the presses:
oh goodness. i am drunk. i just went to enids, some terrible dj asked me and my friend caitlin would we mind talking to his friends from california. we said no and suddenly arrive these terrible she-beasts in mod-man clothing. oh, jeff j, what's hapening here? it took five minutes for them to tell us they were models. oh, they were so dumb. i'm not kidding, jeff j., they were so dumb. and i adore this silly drummer from manhattan school of music, from new jersey. just thought you'd wanna know. Prediction: Seattle. This letter was not from Colleen Werthmann. Dallas at New England - Concessionaire Stories, Part Three: Weeb Stuggles has lived in Jamaica Plain, MA for 61 years. He cried when The Patriots drafted Tony Eason. Weeb's brother went to Eason's alma mater, the University of Illinois. Weeb has never learned to read though. He hates his brother, and every ten years or so, Weeb tricks him into going fishing, and then abandons him or tries to push him out of the boat. He has something big planned for his brother on New Year's Eve, but that's all I can say. He's also sold popcorn at Patriots' games for twenty years. Prediction: Patriots. (Remember when I said they would fade? They have.) Minnesota at Tampa Bay - Memo to Vikings' WR Cris Carter: Jesus would never spike the ball in the ref's face, unless the ref was the devil. I think he might do it if the ref was Pontius Pilate too, but you can never be sure. Jesus was a pretty nice son of a bitch, wasn't he? - - - - WEEKS SEVEN THROUGH TWELVE
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