The Readers Write, but Perhaps They Didn’t Read Right

A few of the lessons I learned at the Super Bowl in New Orleans:

--Don’t shop early. The wise shopper buys his or her Super Bowl souvenirs the day after the game. Around town on postgame Monday, authentic Patriot jerseys were selling for $5, with authentic Patriots still in ‘em.

--Don’t eat the local Cajun specialty, blackened fish, if any part of the blackening process involves cigar smoke.

--Don’t predict the outcome of the Super Bowl game in a newspaper column.

I made each of those mistakes in New Orleans, and learned from each, which is what life is all about.

That last lesson was the toughest. If you missed that particular column--sorry, no reprints available--I picked the New England Patriots to win the Super Bowl.

If you missed the game, the Patriots did not win, although they pretty much dominated the first minute and a half.

For the next 3 1/2 hours, the Patriots gave the pro football world a new definition of the term hang time.

Several readers wrote to remind me of my prediction, lest it slipped my mind.

“As subscribers to an otherwise outstanding paper, we feel that we deserve a partial rebate for having to tolerate the ceaseless drivel emanating from the word processor of columnist Scott Ostler,” wrote Eric Kammerer and Erik Landahl. “The boneheaded frothings of Sunday’s Super Bowl column (the prediction) reached a new nadir of noxiousness, even for Ostler.”

Aim high, I always say.

I had written that Walter Payton was cracking under the Super Bowl hype pressure.

Wrote Andre Lvoff: “I think Oestler (sic) was the one cracking up under pressure.”

Tom DeKleinhans said, in rap-rhyme: “Ostler saw his predicts shuffle and crumble. Had to eat some pie called Super Bowl Humble.”

Wrote Brian Slatic: “My only regret is that I won’t get to see Ostler eat his Super Bowl soup (New England style, with crow).”

Look for my Super Bowl rock video, Brian.

More superlatives spilled forth from the mailbag.

Gary Barnbaum wrote, “Scott Ostler’s article was one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever read. It’s just another example of sportswriters taking themselves too seriously. They run around jamming microphones and tape recorders in front of the players’ faces, hoping for an embarrassing quote. . . . For a writer to predict who will win a game based upon what players have said in interviews set up by the media, so that guys like Ostler can make a living, is absurd.”

Barnbaum shows keen insight into the Super Bowl machinery. However . . .

Let me explain something here, fellows. That wasn’t a real prediction I was making. Only fools and gamblers make real predictions about football games.

What you try to do when you’re covering an event, and it turns out you have a dog of a game on your hands, is you try to liven things up. Not by generating false controversy, but by opening fresh avenues of public discussion.

I wasn’t so much predicting an outcome as I was setting a scene that might stimulate philosophic debate.

What I’m trying to say is, I ain’t here looking for trouble, I’m just diggin’ out of the Super Bowl rubble.

Listen, I knew the Chicago Bears were destined to win the game. I had come to admire their quarterback, Jim McMahon. The guy was having fun, truly getting into the spirit of the event and the city. He was doing what I think all of us fantasize about doing if we’re ever given the public forum--taking jabs at authority figures, chewing tobacco during a press conference, wearing sunglasses at night and mooning helicopters.

I think McMahon and a lot of the other Bears, like assistant coach Buddy Ryan, were trying to inject a little fun into what could have become a grim and tedious week for all concerned. They were providing entertainment, which is, I guess, what I was trying to do.

Readers Eric and Erik, quoted above, wrote that at Super halftime, “We amused ourselves by re-reading Ostler’s witless insights. We howled . . . snickered . . . and cackled . . . “

In other words, my boneheaded frothings helped a couple of desperate fans make it through a difficult time.

As James Taylor sings: “That’s why I’m here.”