Breaking news! Terrell Owens will play in the Super Bowl!
Breaking news! We were wrong! He's not playing!
Gag me. If you're as tired of the Terrell Owens teeter-totter as I am, then this is the place to be. My favorite part was when the doctor refused to clear him to play, and T.O. came out afterwards and basically said, "Screw that crap." You can just picture Doc throwing his clipboard down and storming out of his office, saying, "Fine. Do whatever the hell you want. What do I know? I'm just a doctor."
T.O. definitely did not play in the NFC Championship game Jan. 23 in Philly. I know this because I was there, thanks to tickets from Jay Feely.
That's right – the Falcons kicker got me tickets to the NFC Championship game. My girlfriend Beth's friend, Brad, is his cousin. How perfect is that? The freaking kicker – this was not something I could pass up.
Of course, this game happened the day after the snow armageddon here in Jersey, so once again the Pierce Travel Jinx was bound to kick in. We took the train, and all was going well until we crossed into Pennsylvania and came to a sudden stop.
After a few minutes of idling, we were back in motion – but backwards. Backwards! It seemed like a bad idea to back us up over an icy river that would certainly be our grave if anything should happen, but I didn't go to train school.
As we were still moving back over the river, an Amtrak train came whizzing by in the opposite direction. Once it passed, we were on our way again. Did we just have two trains going opposite directions on the same stretch of track? You can't fool me. I saw Under Siege 2.
On the subway down to the sports complex we were packed in toe-to-toe, and word spread that Brad was a Falcons fan. He was promptly bombarded with chants I cannot repeat here.
"I'm a Vikings fan," I said, trying to back him up. The Vikes had been the Eagles' opposition the week before, but no one gave me a second look. They played so poorly it wasn't even worth trash-talking me.
We got to the stadium, picked up our Feely tickets and headed for the gate as Brad continued to get heckled.
"Who wears the shirt of the kicker?!" some guy yelled at him. Meanwhile, every 20th person in attendance had on a David Akers jersey.
"He's my cousin," Brad said.
The guys just laughed.
"I hate the Falcons!" one fan hollered in Brad's direction. "Michael Vick is terrible! He has the lowest passer rating in the league!" An impressively astute bit of gloating, I thought, considering the man's inebriated condition.
Others chose to chant, "Let's go, Birds!" which doesn't really work when the Eagles are playing the Falcons.
I spent most of the game mastering the art of cheering for both teams. When the Eagles made a play, the drunken Philly fans in front of us would turn around and give me a high-five, then I'd turn to Brad and say things like, "You really need to run it up the middle here." I think this actually made both sides hate me more.
My feet were near-frozen by the end of the third quarter. I had two of those foot warmer packets in each shoe, and it felt like nothing. I'm glad I spent nine dollars on those "40-below" wool socks at Dick's.
"Aren't you from Minnesota?" Beth's sister asked me.
She was right. Have I forgotten my roots? I can't even survive a football game in the moderate cold. Next thing you know I'll be losing my accent and turning down potato salad.
The Eagles dominated the game, which was punctuated by numerous Jumbotron shots of T.O. making birdlike motions on the sideline and officially initiating the two-week media blitz on the health of his ankle.
Breaking news! Owens' ankle holds up on walk to bathroom!
Afterwards, Brad led Beth and me down to meet Jay Feely. I can't describe what a thrill this was. Vick and McNabb are great, but how many people have ever gotten career advice from Jay Feely?
Well, I have. I told him I was interested in sports broadcasting, and he dropped a couple names that I have already forgotten. He also mentioned his impending free agency.
"You know, the Vikings need a kicker."
We'll see if he takes the hint.
Breaking news! Owens goes to grocery store, tells little boy he will play!
Tired, cold and hungry we stood on the platform an hour later waiting for the train back to Jersey. And then Beth broke the silence.
"What an uneventful trip," she pontificated.
Before I could even register the jinx, the train guy's voice came over the loudspeaker: "The 8:09 R7 to Trenton has been cancelled."
An hour later, the 9:09 train suffered the same fate. The train guy told us that 38 train crews had called in sick, and those that did show were scrambling to compensate.
Wouldn't you think something was up after, say, the 31st crew called in? And wouldn't you stop letting crews call in sick when clearly they either just don't want to hassle with getting into work in the snow or want to stay home to watch the Eagles game?
It was close to midnight when we finally got back to Princeton Junction. Of course, the Dinky was no longer in service . Fabulous. We took a cab back, home at last after a 14-hour day.
The TV shows that night moved as quickly as they could from recap of the game to conjecture about T.O.
Breaking news! Whether he plays or not, I'm watching the Super Bowl from somewhere warm.
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