sleepless sports commentary

Earlier I had a conversation with my under-napped roomate on how I suffer without all the sleep I get, and that its largely a genetic thing, but of course at 4:10a.m. I am awake and realing with the chorus of FAME in my brain. G-DArn karaoke@!

I got seriously busted up over the pregame show of the superbowl. If anyone saw it, I don't have to explain myself. If you didn't see it: salute to WWII veterans, alicia keys,lyric interpreter, deaf and blind kids. I began to think that I wasn't going to be able to go over to the Clam chowder and cheesteak party, being weepy and all. But I pulled through. Then I started channeling McNabbs stress and excitement and I really wanted Philly to win. I swear I knew how it must feel to get your chance in the superbowl and know that you've already acheived greatness in just being there, since you're up against one of the greatest teams in the NFL, and you're grateful for that- but how sweet to kick some patriotic butt? To be hearing about and staring at Tom Bradys backside all year and to be able to bury him in Jacksonville?!? Sweet success. You could see it on his face in the third play when he almost turned it over with a fumble, but under the watchful eye of coach Andy Reid a challenge kept the play. You could tell in his face he was already starting to beat himself up inside. bottled up. just wanting to be held like a baby right in the middle of the field. Yeah I know that feeling.