I did my part for the Atlanta Falcons, I made the same meal that guaranteed the Clemson Tigers a national championship. Well, at least in my mind it did. I spent all day Sunday cooking my world-famous, the world that contains my family, barbecue, fall off the bone, melt in your mouth, pork ribs, slaw and skinny french-fries. A fat and cholesterol feast worthy of any gluttonous king.
The Atlanta Falcons have two men starting on defense that played for Clemson and though we are Carolina Panthers homers, Atlanta is just down the road. The Clemson connection is always a strong bond for us and like so many others, we are tired of the evil empire of Belichick, Brady and the New England Patriots.
So when the Falcons were up 21 to 3 at the half my wife felt good, I felt good, Arthur Blank, the owner of the Falcons, felt good. Certainly I expected a thank-you note from him with a Home Depot gift card for cooking the game winning meal and then, after Gaga, something happened. The spell cast by my tender ribs wore off. Poof!
I realize this is just football, a game played by overgrown kids who make insane amounts of money. The Super Bowl won’t solve world hunger or bring about world peace. It’s sole purpose is for the consummation of chips, wings and beer and the destruction of any diet we pledged to undertake on New Years. But watching how the tide turned, how the momentum shifted was an interesting lesson in preparation, calm and shear will with a little confidence and over confidence in the mix.
Once the Brady train began its run in the third quarter, and sadly Arthur Blank looked like he was tied to the tracks, my wife called it, it was over and she was going to bed. I still had hope. In my mind the deficit was too large, there was so little time left and I was certain my ribs still had a little residual magic left in them. But alas, I was wrong and my magic ribs failed me and the Atlanta Falcons.
I must give the devils their due. I would suspect that this game will be considered one for the ages. Legends were created last night, and stories will be retold again and again by the players and the fans. For pro football players this is the pinnacle, the mountain top and now Brady and Belichick stand alone on top of that mountain with five Super Bowl wins. Honestly a pretty remarkable feat, but again, it is just football.
It obvious now that the pig that gave its life for my magical ribs was from the New England area, a yankee rather than a redneck. Mr. Blank I apologize. I guess I should have examined the label a little closer before I bought them. I will next time, if there is a next time.