OK, how many of you out there really care? I do. Been a Giants fan for decades. Literally. Plaxico says the Giants will win 24 to 17. Who do you want to win?
Not being a fan of either team, I'll cheer for the GI ants so we'll be on the same side for once!! But it would be good if NE completes the season undefeated so we quit hearing about the Dolphins!!
I haven't been interested in the Super Bowl for many years now (granted, if the Packers would have won, I'd have been all about it!). Even the commercials have gotten lame. If it's on, we'll cheer for the Giants.
Coffee, I have a good friend who lives in Witchita Falls, TX and he was so upset when the Cowgirls brought on t.o. that he gave up on them and will root for the Giants or even the Redskins. He says so freely on his blog.
[i]It's Wednesday, the time we usually hear from commentator Frank Deford. This week, though, the ghost of William Shakespeare makes an appearance. The bard was in Glendale, Ariz., the other day as the Super Bowl contenders met the media ... and filed this exclusive play.[/i]
The Players: Sideline Wench, a reporter for the Duchy of Fox; Kornheisercranz, herald; Wilbonstern, herald; Brady, a fair-haired boy; Eli, a boy; reporters, bloggers, correspondents, cameramen, soundmen, hangers-on, sycophants, small children throwing rose petals.
[i]Our drama begins as a slovenly mob of sports journalists enters the field at the University of Phoenix Stadium. A fetching reporter, the Sideline Wench of the Duchy of Fox, steps forward.[/i]
Sideline Wench: Since none of my sex 'tis allowed Within the network booth on high, 'Twill be my one sweet distaff voice Midst these growling sports-page lowlifes Which will, upon my sideline nunnery, Dare confront the pretty Brady.
Two heralds, Kornheisercranz and Wilbonstern, wearing hideous matching ESPN doublets, elbow the Sideline Wench aside.
Kornheisercranz: Upon this line-ed greensward set within A desert the Almighty fixed but for cactus Will be this, our strange stage for Sabbath's pigskin war, Waged by mesomorphs come from green Blue States afar.
Wilbonstern: 'Tis stranger still the warrior names affixed, For they would better be the one, the other. Think on it: those called Giants are but dwarfs here, Mere ciphers in the point spread, a goodly dozen down.
Kornheisercranz: Yea, the true giants, these peerless monsters, Call themselves Patriots, e'en though they give shame To that sweet address, trafficking more as traitors, Scoundrels in video deceit, cashing all manner of Belichicks.
Sideline Wench: But, hush all you scribes who bloviate so, For comes now fair Brady, he who is as super In his mortal company as e're this game is to sport. But soft! Let me look upon him as if I filled his embrace. Oh! A visage that Narcissus would have traded for! And a manner that knows neither pressure nor fear. But, alas, 'tis women of fashion that he favors, For one already has his babe, another his flowers, And I, only a sideline wench who can but model dreams.
And now Brady enters amid a crowd of admirers. Small children toss rose petals in his path.
Kornheisercranz: Methinks the crunch upon his presence is so great, And the paparazzi do shine forth such a spangled glare That the great golden orb above must be dimmed And the sounds of Niagara itself seem noiseless Before the din of questions that confront our great Brady.
The Media: Brady, Brady what is afoot with thou?
Brady: Good men of the press box, I come whole to you, For always the feats I have achieved, were upon my two feet. And Sunday, I shall play the same no less, One game at a time, one good foot before the other. But now, I bid you, let me take my leave to join my mates, For by rolling alone, there is no way for Moss to gather passes.
Narrator (in hushed tones): And so Brady exits stage left ... and the heralds return.
Wilbonstern:: But look now, who approaches from yon other way? 'Tis young Eli, who seems, in his manner, yet a boy, No match for such a paragon as the dauntless Brady.
Kornheisercranz: 'Tis so, he is yet more Manning than man, But the football blood that fills that callow vessel Is as royal as Brady ever bought to his captured throne. Eli is the seed of the sainted Archie And thus branch from the same tree as Peyton, He, who made stallions of Colts but twelvemonth past. Mayhap the lad can, with a pigskin, find the same mark Little David did when bookies of yore favored huge Goliath.
Sideline Wench: So, withal, is the grandeur of Brady match for the legacy of Eli? Forsooth, With that I take to silence and send it back up to the big boys in the booth.
[i]And so the curtain falls on our Super Bowl drama ... with apologies to Shakespeare and thanks to our weekly sports bard, commentator Frank Deford, who played the part of Kornheisercranz. Thanks also to Sylvia Poggioli, who played the Sideline Wench, Neal Conan as Wilbonstern, Ari Shapiro as Brady and Steve Inskeep as the Narrator.[/i]
Is it just me or does it really help to read Shakespeare out loud? Must admit to printing this out and taking it home. My better half is taking it with her today to share with one of their prof's that is always quoting Shakespeare. Thanks for sharing Ray.
Well Ray, are you still celebrating today? That game was so close and the 4th quarter was awesome. 17-14 WOW...... I know you must have been on the edge of your sofa through the whole game.
We had an Arkansas Line Backer on that team and he has been on several shows this morning.
Well, you demonstrate why people all over can like the Giants even though they are from NY. We had a local boy play too, Chris Snee, right guard. He grew up a few miles away across the PA border.
Comments
Good thing I just said that on an electronic forum - if you say things like that in Texas they come after you with pitchforks and branding irons.
[i]It's Wednesday, the time we usually hear from commentator Frank Deford. This week, though, the ghost of William Shakespeare makes an appearance. The bard was in Glendale, Ariz., the other day as the Super Bowl contenders met the media ... and filed this exclusive play.[/i]
The Players: Sideline Wench, a reporter for the Duchy of Fox; Kornheisercranz, herald; Wilbonstern, herald; Brady, a fair-haired boy; Eli, a boy; reporters, bloggers, correspondents, cameramen, soundmen, hangers-on, sycophants, small children throwing rose petals.
[i]Our drama begins as a slovenly mob of sports journalists enters the field at the University of Phoenix Stadium. A fetching reporter, the Sideline Wench of the Duchy of Fox, steps forward.[/i]
Sideline Wench: Since none of my sex 'tis allowed
Within the network booth on high,
'Twill be my one sweet distaff voice
Midst these growling sports-page lowlifes
Which will, upon my sideline nunnery,
Dare confront the pretty Brady.
Two heralds, Kornheisercranz and Wilbonstern, wearing hideous matching ESPN doublets, elbow the Sideline Wench aside.
Kornheisercranz: Upon this line-ed greensward set within
A desert the Almighty fixed but for cactus
Will be this, our strange stage for Sabbath's pigskin war,
Waged by mesomorphs come from green Blue States afar.
Wilbonstern: 'Tis stranger still the warrior names affixed,
For they would better be the one, the other.
Think on it: those called Giants are but dwarfs here,
Mere ciphers in the point spread, a goodly dozen down.
Kornheisercranz: Yea, the true giants, these peerless monsters,
Call themselves Patriots, e'en though they give shame
To that sweet address, trafficking more as traitors,
Scoundrels in video deceit, cashing all manner of Belichicks.
Sideline Wench: But, hush all you scribes who bloviate so,
For comes now fair Brady, he who is as super
In his mortal company as e're this game is to sport.
But soft! Let me look upon him as if I filled his embrace.
Oh! A visage that Narcissus would have traded for!
And a manner that knows neither pressure nor fear.
But, alas, 'tis women of fashion that he favors,
For one already has his babe, another his flowers,
And I, only a sideline wench who can but model dreams.
And now Brady enters amid a crowd of admirers. Small children toss rose petals in his path.
Kornheisercranz: Methinks the crunch upon his presence is so great,
And the paparazzi do shine forth such a spangled glare
That the great golden orb above must be dimmed
And the sounds of Niagara itself seem noiseless
Before the din of questions that confront our great Brady.
The Media: Brady, Brady what is afoot with thou?
Brady: Good men of the press box, I come whole to you,
For always the feats I have achieved, were upon my two feet.
And Sunday, I shall play the same no less,
One game at a time, one good foot before the other.
But now, I bid you, let me take my leave to join my mates,
For by rolling alone, there is no way for Moss to gather passes.
Narrator (in hushed tones): And so Brady exits stage left ... and the heralds return.
Wilbonstern:: But look now, who approaches from yon other way?
'Tis young Eli, who seems, in his manner, yet a boy,
No match for such a paragon as the dauntless Brady.
Kornheisercranz: 'Tis so, he is yet more Manning than man,
But the football blood that fills that callow vessel
Is as royal as Brady ever bought to his captured throne.
Eli is the seed of the sainted Archie
And thus branch from the same tree as Peyton,
He, who made stallions of Colts but twelvemonth past.
Mayhap the lad can, with a pigskin, find the same mark
Little David did when bookies of yore favored huge Goliath.
Sideline Wench: So, withal, is the grandeur of Brady match for the legacy of Eli?
Forsooth,
With that I take to silence and send it back up to the big boys in the booth.
[i]And so the curtain falls on our Super Bowl drama ... with apologies to Shakespeare and thanks to our weekly sports bard, commentator Frank Deford, who played the part of Kornheisercranz. Thanks also to Sylvia Poggioli, who played the Sideline Wench, Neal Conan as Wilbonstern, Ari Shapiro as Brady and Steve Inskeep as the Narrator.[/i]
Thanks for sharing Ray.
We had an Arkansas Line Backer on that team and he has been on several shows this morning.
Go Giants!