Worst Super Bowls Ever

#3 – 2013.  Our TV does not get channels.  Wife’s favorite team is the 49ers.  Yes, she’s never been to California ever, but she loves penis, so it’s fine.  Only place to watch the game is online on the computer in my office.  I want to use the computer to download porn/be stupid on the internet, but can’t.  Then my wife, rushing back after a commercial, trips over the baby in its swing.  Wife crashes into everything & wrecks the piles of papers that I have been carefully stacking up for the last several years.  I check on the baby, who doesn’t seem to have noticed. Laugh at wife instead of asking if she’s okay or helping her up.  Do not get laid for a long long time.

#2 – 2004.  Go to my brother’s basement apartment to watch the game.  I’m months away from joining the army and have a hot blond slutty girlfriend (Mary Beth).  Scoreless first quarter over, and girlfriend says she has to go home/go to bed.  She has to get up at 5 AM for work, also (unbeknownst to me), she’s engaged and probably has to watch the rest of the game with her fiance.  I walk her out to her car, smooch for a couple of minutes and say goodbye.  I try to get back in my brother’s building but his buzzer doesn’t work.  Try calling him, but he doesn’t answer his phone.  My car keys are in the apt.  I try peering through various basement windows but cannot find his apartment.  I sit out in the vestibule for over an hour in freezing cold weather, until finally one of his other friends leaves and lets me in.  I miss all of the (24 pt) 2nd quarter and halftime, but make it back for the (scoreless) 3rd quarter.

#1 – 2000.  My longtime college girlfriend has graduated and is going to chiropractic school about 90 minutes away from where I’m finishing my super-senior year.  I visit her on a lot of weekends.  Sunday we go out for breakfast and I’m driving her back to her dorm.  She notices that I’m pretty low on gas.

We’re at a crossroads.  Straight ahead will take me back to her dorm.  Right will take me into town and to a gas station.  Left will take me back to the highway home.  I’m in a hurry so I can get back and watch the game with my frat brothers.

“I’ll drop you off first and get gas on the way home.” I say.  I continue straight.

“You should stop in town, though and get some gas before you get on the highway,” she advises.

“That’s a good idea, honey.” I say.

But what I am thinking is that there’s a gas station not far (10-15 minutes?)  down the highway.  One of those travel plazas.  That would be the most efficient.

So drop off the gf.  She reminds me again to get gas in town, and once again, I agree.  I reach the intersection again.  Fuck going to town.  I’m not getting along with my gf at this point of our relationship, so I think unconsciously I may have wanted to defy her.  Also, I’d have to drive into that stupid little cow town full of antiquers and waste valuable minutes on a pump that didn’t even take credit cards – I’d have to walk inside and pay. Minutes that could be spent drinking beer with my bros.  So I head for the highway.

And five minutes later, I run out of gas.  (I didn’t have a cell phone – almost no one had a cell phone in 2000).  So whatever, man, this is what happens.  That travel plaza is like what, five minutes away?  I’ll go there.  I start walking.

And then, a miracle.  About a quarter mile away, there’s a gas pump just sitting there on the side of the road.  There was some farm house there – I knocked on the door.  No answer.  So I walk the quarter mile back to my car.  Grab a large Snapple bottle from my car and walk the quarter mile again.  Now, the pump could have been locked.  It could have dispensed kerosene or diesel.  It could have been empty.  But it isn’t any of those things.  I fill the bottle and walk the quarter mile back to my car.  Pour it into the tank.  Start the car.

Off to the travel plaza.  Wait.  What’s that?  Put some more gas in my tank?  It’s not like I had any morals at that point in my life.  Hell, I could have just filled my tank completely up.  Maybe broken a window at the farmhouse with a rock as thanks.  Instead I drive as far as 12 ounces of gas takes me – which apparently is about 7 miles.

As the car sputters to a halt, surprisingly, I do not feel despair, frustration, or anger.  Instead just: This is your just desserts for being stupid.  God gave you a second chance and you did this.  So now you must be punished. 

Now what?  I can walk to the travel plaza, which surely isn’t far.  I mean, right?  I’d already driven what, like 12 miles?  It has to be close.

So off I go.  It is a cold day, but I am at least dressed reasonably.  Warm coat, wool hat and gloves.  My legs are cold at first because I’m wearing ripped jeans.  Also, my sneakers are old and my socks are thin.  But as long as I keep moving I’m fine.

A few miles down the road, I come to a bowling alley, and use the payphone to call my girlfriend’s room.  I have hopes of her maybe borrowing someone’s car to come get me.  She isn’t in.  I’m kind of glad.

I keep walking.  Man, stuff seems a lot further away on foot.  In a car, billboards zip by almost before you can read them.  On foot, by the time you finally pass that thing, you are thoroughly sick of it.

I walk 10 miles to that travel plaza.  I could have tried to hitchhike, but I just want to punish myself.  The sun is starting to go down by the time I get there.  I buy a big red plastic gas can and fill it up.  I don’t want to walk back in the dark and die (i don’t want to punish myself that badly), so I ask a guy inside for a ride back.  He says yes.  He’s driving a minivan with 3 kids and his wife.  I squat in the back with my gas can amid their groceries.

When I get back to my car, I fill it up with the gas can, and get in.  The game is just getting started and I tune it in on the radio.  I get to the travel plaza, and think, “man, I probably have enough gas to make it back.  I don’t have to stop and waste any more time.”

Just kidding. I filled up, drove home, and made it back to the house by the end of the second quarter.

Walk into my friend’s apartment where everyone is watching the game.  Greeted with accusations of being a “pussy-whipped bitch”.  Too exhausted to dispute these charges.  Grab a beer and sit on the floor.  Because all the couches are full.

Ran into Madcow today.

Me: How’s the training going?

Madcow: Good, man.  Sent in my meet app already.

Me: Yeah, I gotta do that.

Madcow: What weight class are you gonna go?  198s?

Me: 181.

Madcow: Ugh…

Weight: 196.2 (+0.8)  Ugh.  There’s a secret reason I look big for a 181 pounder…

Manta Ray Squat: 45×4, 135×3, 225×2, 315, 345, 360, 370, 375; 360x10x1

go fuck yourself, squats

Low Box Squat: 135×2, 225, 315, 355, 380

380 felt light as a feather going down.  I was so pleased with myself that I sat on the box for too long, forgot my advice to the Swede, didn’t lead with my head/traps, and got up looking like the Hunchback of Notre Dame.  Still got it.

DB Bench: 30,40,45,50,55 x 25-30

Mil Press: 45×6, 95×3, 135×2, 165×1; 135×3

still going light, not going to dignify 165 by bolding it.

Snatch Grip Deadlift: 135×3, 205, 275, 345, 395, 435, 465

RDL: 345x2x5

Time: 2:05


13 thoughts on “Worst Super Bowls Ever

    • It was a local frat. Only one chapter. Obviously since I was in it, we let everyone pledge and just hazed out the real nutcases. The closest i could come to describing it would be if Jamie Lewis, Paul Carter, Bret Kim, a random high school student, a pizza delivery guy, various gang members who DYEGTS (do you even go to this school) and every moper ever, including the Swede, all decided to be best friends for no particular reason.

  1. Do you have long arms, or something? I think your Snatch Grip Deadlift is a lot higher than mine. (Actually, I need to max out on deadlifts sometime… It’s been a while.)

    • Seeing that I’m 5’5 3/4″ I would have to say no to the long arm questions. I can barely reach my cock. TBH I do 135-275 with index finger on the rings. 345 with middle finger. 415 with ring finger. + with little finger. But as I go higher, i move this out, so soon i will be doing 415 with middle finger on rings & etc. I got permission for this from articles I’ve read. But if I were doing a real snatch I would probably have my grip wider than I do when I pull 470. I think. Most I’ve ever snatched is 125. with a dumbbell.

    • football is the perfect american sport – violence punctuated by committee meetings. actually it can be quite fun to play. i am more of a baseball & basketball fan though. Although one sport that is awesome to witness in person is Arena Football. best thing ever.

    • There’s men’s softball, which is basically where a bunch of middle aged men get together to share a few beers and relive the glory days. Also I think there’s legit men’s softball, and I think US once played Canada and hit like 26 consecutive home runs or something ridiculous like that. I maybe I’m just having an acid flashback.

      • I would say softball is for ladies and for more casual play. Like at the company picnic. Suzie can pitch underhand and everyone can hit it. Where as Dave throwing a baseball overhand 75 mph wildly = not so much fun.
        Yes, I know – College chicks can thrown underhand really fucking fast. But – no one cares.

  2. Pingback: Super Bowl LXIX | Coach's Blog

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