Friday, November 2, 2007

Chauncey Devega says: The Real Superbowl is this weekend

In the world of professional wrestling, there is a word for fans who believe it is real--they are called "marks". Brothers like me who know professional wrestling is "fake", study the craft, and religiously critique this most male of soap operas, are called "smart marks" (speaking of which, where the hell is Chris Jericho and didn't the WWE miss an opportunity at CyberSunday to push up the buy rate? And didn't Sting and Angle put on a clinic at the Bound for Glory pay per view a few weeks ago? Both of them sure can "go" as we smarks say, and their work rate is unbelievable, especially given that they are in a promotion which knows nothing about how to book a program).

This Sunday, when I watch The New England Patriots play at Indy, I will be a mark, unapologetically, without remorse, and without shame because I believe in my team.

I am a New England fan. As Gordon Gartrelle has goofed on me, "why would a black man like a Boston team?" I am a New England boy, I watched my people, yes, my people (I said it Lady Zora) win 3 or 4 games a year back in the eighties, and get humiliated by the Fridge--a grown man who was notorious for giving himself "a pissy" during football games..bad boy he was! I watched as Godfather Kraft took over, and then hired that straight 'hood, gully thug, Bill Belichick as coach. Perhaps the best coach in the game today, a true genius, and a man willing to do anything to win. If Belichick were in the drug game, he would kill a rival's wife, kids, dog, and burn his opponent's house down, cause as we all know, it is only business, never personal. Whatever we say about his fashion sense, Belichick is a bad, bad, bad, man and I am glad he is on my side. In another post, I will talk about how modern sports are a plantation, and how young brothers love the ball dribblers to their own detriment, but today, it is all love.

I won't attempt to post about the history of this game and how the Pats were 2 minutes from the Superbowl last year. I won't speculate about how history could have been different if Brady had the same toys to play with as Peyton these last few years. I will leave it to the experts to grade the Patriots' performance, make predictions, and run simulations. Hell, as TMQ highlighted on ESPN, this is good versus evil, and for once, we, my Patriots, can play the villain, and the NFL, has its 21st century Raiders. Damn, maybe it is my working class roots, but The New England Patriots are workers, no glory, no glitz, they simply win and beat their enemies like a government mule. I won't gloat about how Eric Mangini will likely be blackballed by the league for being a snitch, and for outing his former boss, the man most responsible for Mangini's job with the Jets.

This is going to be epic. And when I mean epic, I mean Biggie versus Tupac, Optimus Prime versus Megatron, Star Trek versus Star Wars, Ali versus Frazier, Bruce versus Kareem, Superman versus Mr. T, Duel of the Fates, 300, Conan the Barbarian, and Gladiator epic.

This is Rick Flair versus Dusty Rhodes epic.

For us fans, and no I am not a victim of the hype-machine per se, as I have willingly submitted to it, I don't know what to say or do, except to put my Patriots hat on, turn on the 42 inch LCD, grab a can of Sapporo beer, and enjoy the ride. No article writing, no dissertation work, no reading "serious" stuff on Sunday. No, this is about 3:15pm. No more, no less.

I will leave you with this thought: Peyton and Brady are the Godzilla and Mechagodzilla of the NFL right now.

To be honest, the problem is, I don't know who is the former, and who is the latter. Ultimately, that dynamic will make Sunday ohhh so special.

Both will need to summon the intensity of Hulk Hogan when he turned heel and joined the NWO back in the day:

Or the crazed energy of The Ultimate Warrior back in the 80's and early 90's:

As BIG said, "real niggas do real things", and Peyton and Brady are gonna do something special on Sunday.

My prediction:

New England 38
Indianapolis 31

And if the Pats lose, I will eat a big bowl of chitlins..and lord knows that is the worst punishment I could possibly inflict on myself.

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