When in doubt, do it.  The Matriculator


Super Bowl XLIII: Tom Brady’s Fairy Tail


            After the fact people always say they saw it coming.  But nobody in their right mind would even try to argue that they thought the 1-15 Miami Dolphins would win Superbowl XLIII.  Heck, the other team in their division went 16-0.  But what if you were to predict it beforehand and it really happened?  What if the world were to watch as your ludicrous scenario unfolded like an aqua butterfly emerging from its cocoon?  Surely you would be heralded as the next Messiah.  Regardless of whether the following predictions prove to be correct, I want to set the record straight.  I’m not the Messiah, although the Messiah always denies his true divinity.  No, my mother, my wife and my girlfriends confirm on a regular basis that I’m not the messiah, just a very naughty boy.

            Here is the blueprint.  It’s fairly simple.  Justin Smiley happily dominates at left guard.  Samson Satele doesn’t meet Delilah in a bar in South Beach.  Shawn Murphy is on a mission from God. Ginn is the tonic. Ricky Williams learns to levitate over would be tacklers with the use of Buddha not buds.  The NFL eventually drafts a rule change banning “the use of alternate religions, spirituality or weird thoughts to gain a competitive advantage,” but it’s too late to slow the juggernaut.  After a 15-0 start, the Dolphins record their Superbowl song entitled Yeremiah was a Ballhog.

            In the modern era it takes more than Crazy Legs Hirsh or Fair Hooker or Tom Beer to win a title.  You have to cheat.  That’s how the Patriots did it.  Belicheat made graft and corruption an art form.  He made the Joker look like a joke.  He taped the Rams, the Ravens and his secretary.  He thought it was all legal since the government is allowed to do it…the Patriot Act.   They even named their legalized corruption in honor of his swindling organization.  He was the Teflon Bill, until...the IRS caught him cheating on his taxes.  His return was flagged like a Dolphins’ kick return when he claimed his Hoodie as a business expense.  He spent the season in a cell with Pacman trying to coach him up on a nightly basis.  He eventually disappeared and it was rumored that he was erroneously buried under the grass at Fenway Park. 

            With the help of the ultimate Dolphins fan, The Aqua and Orange Man (that being me, O My Brothers) the Dolphins concocted a plan. Surveillance would bring Brady to his knees, or catch him on his knees.  Photos of Brady in panties doing the Polka and romping in bed with a Jason Taylor blow-up doll were sent to Gisele Bundtcake. It was the most important sack of Taylor’s career.  In spite of this, Gisele got pregnant.  When the baby was born it was painfully obvious the boy was not a member of the Brady Bunch.  Gisele named the baby Travis Henry XIII. 

            Tuna’s assault was relentless and the newspapers began referring to Brady as The Chicken of the Sea. Tommy Tutone was devastated every time a pass rusher tackled him.   His lineman would lift him off the turf as he cried, “Do you really want to hurt me?  Do you really want to make me cry?”  He started dressing like Boy George and going to parties with Mr. Tattletale himself, Eric Mangina.  Even though Brady told Mangina all of the plays, the Jets still couldn’t win.  A private eye sent a text message to all of the Bills players.  It read: You do realize you’re in Buffalo.  They fell into despair along with their title aspirations.

            Kraft’s businesses started to struggle.  His Limburger cheese flavored singles bombed, as did his Limburger Lolly Pops.  Word leaked that Sweeney Todd used Gillette razors and bankruptcy was on the horizon.  He was forced to sell Randy Moss for scientific experiment and they had to put Bruschi down after a leg injury.  Rodney Harrison quit to become Sheriff of Roidville, “Where we still believe in Santa, the Easter Bunny and Tainted Titles.”  The population is 223 NFL players, 328 Major Leaguers and every Professional Wrestler West of Timbuktu.

            As I’m sure you can see, the Dolphins next Championship is not as far away as it seems.  It may not happen exactly as predicted.  Brady’s fall from grace may occur because he slips on some Perrier or is allergic to his new perfume.  It doesn’t matter.  It will happen.  Karma always bites the hand of the cheater.


            “Please welcome the newest member of Culture Club, Tom Brady.” (Crowd cheers wildly)


            “Thank you.  Everyone knows how much I like to perform.  This one’s for Billy B and Jason T.  I love you boys.”


            Karma, karma, karma, karma, karma chameleon


            I came to throw


            I came to throw


            Flowers and pansies with colors like my dreams


            I want to scream


            Aqua, not green


            It’s aqua, not green


            The Dolphins are 120-1 odds to win the Superbowl.  Flights to Vegas are only $129 with short stops in Havana, Pittsburgh, El Paso and Minneapolis.  Hurry up and book.  You can thank me later.  Remember, “When you wish upon a dancing star, it makes no difference who you are….”


August 20, 2008