Struggling to maintain the hormonal balance at anewscafe.com, cartoonist Phil Fountain and columnist Steve Brewer offer commentary on issues that are of interest to men: sex, belching, snack food, carbonated beverages, televised sports, cheerleaders, shark attacks, explosions, and how best to scorch a variety of meats. Not necessarily in that order.
This week, some kind of Big Game has them all lathered up…
Phil: Nothing like immersing oneself in the gaudy, All-American, around-the-clock hoopla that is Super Bowl Week. I mean, I GOTTA see the interview with the guy who wraps Dwight Freeney’s ankle. So, bottom line, who you got? Peyton Manning’s Colts or the Drew Brees-led Nawlins Saints?
Steve: The Super Bowl (3 p.m. Pacific, Sunday, CBS) will be a shootout, but I think Manning’s cool offensive management wins in the end. The Colts are a well-oiled machine on both sides of the ball, while New Orleans can be inconsistent and prone to turnovers. The Saints will need to be on the receiving end of some turnovers, and get a few big plays, to upset the Colts.
Phil: As astute as those observations are, I’m going to go with the Saints. Not because of how the Colts will play the Cover Two, but for a much simpler reason. I can’t stand looking at Peyton Manning’s forehead. Dear God, you could put that boy in a chair in the middle of a parking lot and you’d have a drive-in theater. You could show Cinemascope movies on that fella’s cranial shelf. It must be nice for his family, having a portable handball court around. Kind of creeps me out, though.
Steve: I know what you mean. Paint him green, Igor, and screw some bolts into the sides of his neck. But aside from the obvious facial challenges, he is the prototype modern NFL quarterback. Tall, durable, smart. Did you see him and Brees being interviewed during the Pro Bowl? Brees, who might be six feet tall on a good day, looked like a kid next to Peyton Forehead.
Phil: Yes, I did see that interview. Brees taking a magic marker and diagramming plays on Peyton’s brow added some visual insight to the Saints’ game plan. Seriously, though, while Manning will pick them apart, the Saints ain’t the Jets. Brees will answer the call. It’ll be score for score. I know it’s a cliche, but the team that makes the fewest mistakes will win the game. I wouldn’t be surprised to see a 42-38 score. Then again, high-powered offenses can be erratic, especially when the pressure is on. Which team’s defense will step up? It makes sense to say the Colts are favored, but don’t underestimate the Nawlins juju … this franchise is due.
Steve: Though I believe the Colts will win, I’m going to root for the Saints. Whenever one of “my” teams isn’t involved in the Super Bowl, I cheer for the underdogs. More likely to be disappointed that way, and I’m nothing if not masochistic when it comes to football. That’s why I remain a 49ers fan.
Phil: I know Niner fans are suffering, but please, don’t even pretend you can imagine what it’s like rooting for the Raiders. This is a team that is just eight years removed from back-to-back AFC Championship games and an ill-fated Super Bowl appearance. Since then, they’ve been the epitome of Loserosity. They set an NFL record for longest streak of seasons with at least 11 losses. They have botched just about every draft, given contracts to washed-up players who insist their probation officers be put on the payroll as “trainers,” hired coaches who stroll the sidelines in electronic ankle bracelets and who must remain 100 feet from their Defensive Coordinator so as not to violate a court order, and allowed a walking corpse dressed like Evel Knievel with no sense of color to run their operation. Our multimillionaire, first-pick-overall quarterback has shown he possesses the brain of a bowl of Maypo and reads defenses at first-grade level. He was so bad we Raider fans cheered when Charlie Frye took the field! CHARLIE FRYE!!! Don’t speak to me of “suffering.”
Steve: You done? Can we (unlike the Raiders) now return to the Super Bowl? How will you be observing the national tradition? No party for me this year. I’ve opted to stay home and wallow in the game all by myself. I’ll whip up some popcorn, put on the comfy sweatpants and scream at the TV for three or four hours. (I consider that an aerobic activity.) Then I’ll eat some more and fall asleep during the fourth quarter.
Phil: When all our kids (the four boys, anyway, my daughter hides out on Super Bowl Sunday) were at home, they would invite their friends over and we would go all-out. I’d whip up my special Buffalo wings and Philbert Cheesesteaks, Chris would make her award-winning chili and the front room would look like a minefield that a platoon of avocados tried (unsuccessfully) to cross. We’d call Frito-Lay and have them back a delivery truck up to the front door and shovel their salty, crunchy payload straight into the house. Feeling peckish by the second quarter, we’d call out for pizza at halftime. We would have pools and various side bets (how long before the American Idol singing the national anthem screws up the words?) and generally revel in the crass commercialism that makes America what it is… an overweight spud of a nation easily distracted by Go Daddy commercials. You know, we’d have fun!
Steve: Sounds great. Be even better if you wrap it all in bacon.
Phil: Nowadays, the twins might ask their girlfriends over, and when I make them a greasy cheesesteak drowning with melted Cheez-Whiz, they smile and ask if we have a veggie tray instead. That’s when the truth will hit home and I’ll move into the next phase of my life. The Just Waiting For Death To Come And Put Me Out Of My Misery Phase. No point in doubling up on the cholesterol meds if I’m going to sit in front of the widescreen and watch Jeremy Shockey do a quick curl pattern while I’m nibbling a carrot stick. I guess I could pretend it’s a Chee-to. Tra-la, how life goes on.
Steve: The Super Bowl is the one time of year when I don’t hit the “mute” button the instant a commercial comes on. Got to watch the debut commercials. I hear CBS sold all the Super Bowl airtime at full price this year.
Phil: In addition to the new (hopefully funny) commercials and the constant hype for whatever lame reality show the network is plugging, The Who will be the halftime show! I hear the set list includes “Baba O’Reilly,” “Pinball Wizard,” “See Me, Feel Me,” “Who’s Next,” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again.” I’m hoping they do “My Generation,” not just because it’s one of rock’s most iconic anthems, but I want to see if they can sing the line, “Hope I die before I get old” with a straight face.
Steve: Yeah, that’ll be worth a laugh. Try not to choke on your carrot stick.
Phil Fountain is a cartoonist, writer and occasional bed-wetter based in the far reaches of Northern Californey.
A journalist since 1975, Steve Brewer is the author of 16 books, most recently the thriller “Cutthroat.” He moved to Redding from New Mexico in 2003.