Sunday, January 20, 2008

Henry's Sports Dish, Vol. 1

All text ©2008, Henry's Sports Dish™

“Look Ian, she’s lying in my lap. She NEVER does that!” Yes, Carla, I was “resting” in your lap. Don’t get used to it. I’m not a lap cat. People are not beds. I stand on people. I walk across people. It's just that it was gonna be a long day of football, and you were in my seat.

I was most interested in the NFC championship, but I just had to watch the Chargers game beforehand. See, I love Ladainian Tomlinson. He has the best dimples in the NFL. And of course he’s a superb running back. But he also seems like a really nice kid. He loves his mama. He performs numerous acts of charity in the community. I think he might be Michael Vick’s (for lack of a better word) doppelganger. Ladainian is either really genuinely sweet, or he has a crackjack PR agent, unlike Vick, who doesn’t even have a stylist. If he did, he’d have nixed the facial hair and adopted at least a neutral expression on his way in and out of the courtroom. He looked really mean. He looked like a guy who not only kills dogs, but then hunts down their parents and grandparents and offs them too.

But I digress. The Chargers lost, predictably, to the superhuman Patriots (I hope it won't constitute a spoiler to inform you that Tom Brady is a robot). I had to keep watching, even after Ladainian was sidelined after only three plays. You never know, New England, cybernetically empowered as they are, could lose. And Paula Abdul could have a moment of lucidity. Keep hope alive, people!

Like lemmings, the Green Bay Packers followed San Diego over the the precipitous cliffs of Not-Going-to-the-Superbowl Mountain. But, as always, the Fox pregame show didn’t disappoint, thanks to the perennial asses pictured above. The Spice Boys kicked off the show by talking about the weather. To wit, it was -1 degrees F at Lambeau Field with a wind chill of 20 below.
"What happens in cold weather is things shrink," says Terry Bradshaw, giving a shoulder-butt to Curt Menefee. "He usually wears a 58 inch jacket but today he's wearing a 48."
Har, har.

Then Howie Long says:
"If you leave your dog outside for three hours in this kind of weather, they will lock you up for cruelty to animals."
(What a douchbag. Maybe if Howie had given counsel to Michael Vick years ago, things would have turned out differently for him: "Now Mike, if it’s Arctic cold outside, your dog can survive without shelter for two hours and 59 minutes, tops. Sixty seconds longer, and you’re up the river. Oh, and don’t strangle, shoot or drown them.")

Then Jimmy Johnson holds up a glass that he's just filled with water.
"Let's see how long it takes before it freezes!
(Oooooo. A magic trick. I'm rapt.)

The segment ends with everyone teasing Curt about his not wearing a hat.

Here's the way I think the championship-eve IM’ing played out on the Fox NFL Sunday's AOL Buddy List.

OK guys, it’s going 2 B be cold 2morrow. Let’s B sure we don’t show up in the same hats.

And before anyone has a chance to type anything, he writes:

I call dibs on the trooper-trapper hat. No one else on the panel but me could rock one like Frances McDormand.

Then Jimmy screams:


Scrambling for traction, and to ensure that no one in the entire stadium will upstage him, Terry types:

I’m wearing a golf hat. On top of a doo-rag. Rock that, Howie.

To which Curt, left with a choice of a crocheted knit cap or wizard hat, replies:

Screw it. I’m going cranial-commando!
For the record, by the time they went to the first station break, Curt had his scarf wrapped around his jughead like a Russian peasant lady.

I think it’s about time the NFL had a fashion critic. I’d like to throw my fedora into the ring. I could be the sportsworld's equivalent of those chicks over at

By the way, guess who ended up with the knit cap?

Pam Oliver.

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