| John Madden will talk about his tie.
That's about the only guarantee we're going to give you for Super Bowl XL, because that was the single consistent theme of Monday Night Football's final (sniff, sniff) season on network television. John Madden getting bored with the actual football, and discussing his wardrobe. Or the state of indoor professional lacrosse. Or what he had for lunch.
Things have come down for Madden since the great days of doing blow off Pat Summerall's belly over at CBS. He has to put up with Al Michaels getting all clever on him and Lynn Swann running for political office as a Republican. Plus Madden walks around all day worrying Michelle Tafoya is carrying his baby. (Suspicion: Tafoya, the MNF sideline reporter who has been pregnant for 17 consecutive months, may not be wanted by the network anymore. Mr. Tafoya is concerned ABC is pumping her full of steroids to keep her permanently lactating.)
Anyway, it's up to Detroit for the Madden/Michaels pairing's last hurrah; after next Sunday, they're going their separate ways: Madden to NBC, and Michaels to a padded cell, where he'll force himself to listen to old tapes of his new partner, Joe Theismann, just to get ready for the inanity of a person who says things like, "When you talk about this defense, you're talking about a group of players who really get down to the business of being a football team who doesn't get distracted by all the other things, but just settles into playing football like a football team should." Michaels has toupee hairs that are smarter than Theismann.
Yeah, if we're going to do our last Super Bowl, we totally want it in Detroit. They have great...uh...really delicious...er...and the women are just...we think they filmed 8 Mile there. Or it was supposed to take place there or something. Eminem is funny.
It's very difficult to like the Pittsburgh Steelers, because residents of Pittsburgh sound as though they've had the tips of their tongues circumcised. Also, Terry Bradshaw played for them, and Terry Bradshaw is a jackass. (We were Cowboy fans growing up. Sue us.) However, the Seattle Seahawks are not actually an NFL franchise. They are holograms, sent to Earth by Bopulap VII of the Kremis galaxy, to test us for weakness. Anyone who plays against the Seahawks is given a mind-altering serum before game-time which causes them to believe Shaun Alexander is ramming his forearm into their scroti. Same goes for anyone attending the game. Folks at home don't have to be gassed; they simply believe the hologram. It's a pretty cool plan, really. Bopulap VII leads a fairly peaceful colonizing people who simply need to know whether Earthlings can be expected to play an effective zone defense when they invade. Alas, we really can't.
So Jerome Bettis (who has parents! who come to all his games! and they're fat just like him! isn't that amazing!) and his teammates will be given heavy doses of serum before the game, and the "Seattle Seahawks," who don't really exist, will look very tough but will, in fact, be holograms. Who wins? Surprisingly, Vegas has installed the drugged Pittsburghers as four-point favorites, because of high respect for the AFC, and also Bopulap IV spent several years on Earth masquerading as Steve Wynn. (The real Steve Wynn having been transmogrified into Paris Hilton's poodle years ago.)
Since the holograms can only win if the serum works, much is dependant on the ventilation system in the home locker room at Ford Field, which will house the Steelers. This is the locker room the Detroit Lions usually occupy, and they suck. We're betting the ventilation is pretty good. You know: to let Joey Harrington's rancidness disperse. Seems like it'd have to be part of the building code.
As such, we believe the serum disperses before gametime, the holograms are caught off guard, and the Steelers do, in fact, win Super Bowl XL. But Jerome Bettis is tragically eaten by his parents.