The game really lived up to its hype, in unexpected way

Each of my Chicago-sports-crazed sisters tried to contact me a couple weeks ago after the Bears had defeated New Orleans, which goes to show you why it’s important to always screen your calls.

They didn’t take the hint, of course, and still left messages.

The first sister to leave a message, the middle child, who grew up pretty much ignored, obviously couldn’t have been surprised when I didn’t pick up.

You grow up like that, though, and you’re going to get hitched to the first guy to come along who can tie his own bowling shoes without help. Tough to find someone like that in Chicago, as you might imagine.

The fact she did find such a guy, and he was also a Bears fan and appeared normal, was considered a real neighborhood catch at the time because when you think of the Bears and Butkus and Ditka, four-legged beasts with paws come to mind.

Now you know why Rex Grossman had such trouble throwing the ball.

Anyway, as a family, we were happy she found her Neanderthal because she was getting really old. He’s a swell guy too, and although his idea of getting all dressed up is to put on an Urlacher jersey, you put a beer in the guy’s hand and he’s going to walk around happy all day, saying, “Da Bears, Da Bears, Da Bears.”

Even though I grew up in Chicago, I was never much of a Bears fan, because I don’t like teams that put such an emphasis on defense. That’s why I like the Lakers so much.

Anyway, the first sister left a message after the Bears advanced: “Go Bears. Go Bears. Go Bears.” I can just imagine the chitchat around the dinner table, the Neanderthal saying, “Da Bears,” the sister replying, “Go Bears,” and their little girl trying to pass the chicken to her mother only to have it intercepted.

The other sister married an accountant. He was also the first White Sox fan to join the family, so no one really liked him. They moved away.

She called three mai tais into a Hawaiian vacation after the Bears advanced to the Super Bowl and left a message saying she hoped I could get the Wengernutts a couple of tickets to the Super Bowl.

Now I don’t know about you, but if my daughter married a Wengernutt, I’d keep that quiet or leave the continent and start drinking mai tais until I got to the point where I didn’t much care what I said to anyone.

Sunday, of course, was going to be the greatest day in all their lives.

SUNDAY WAS the best Super Bowl I have ever had.

I’ve covered more than 20 of them, and although most folks would gladly switch places and of course write a different column about Barbaro, like the very worst part of your job, that’s how I feel about the hype leading up to a football game.

Take into consideration the 2,000 members of the media assembled in Miami on the prowl for a story, any kind of story, and name the most newsworthy item to surface last week. Nothing comes to mind.

Once the pregame pageantry starts for a Super Bowl, though, it’s not only the start of a marathon day for those covering it, but it’s also supposed to be fun. For years now I’ve made it a practice when standing for the national anthem to tell myself something Marv Levy used to always say: “Where else would you rather be?”

I now know the answer.

I was sitting at home, the 18-month-old granddaughter wearing an oversized gray Bears T-shirt and sitting on my lap, Billy Joel struggling to sing the national anthem and the cutest grandkid I have ever seen beginning to fall asleep on my chest.

I had just finished telling her what a big game it was going to be, hyping it as much as I could, and she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Granny, of course, was not surprised, because she’s tried to read Page 2 on occasion.

At 18 months, the 7-Eleven Kid for the most part is a momma’s or granny’s baby. But for whatever reason, the cutest grandkid I have ever seen crawled atop her G.P. just as CBS went to the pregame hoopla.

And so we sat together watching Cirque du Soleil, colorful characters holding balloons as well as the baby’s attention, and if there is a better way to spend 30 minutes in your life, I cannot imagine it.

Her cheek fell back against mine, her right hand dropping across my right arm, and I had to go to the bathroom and I was choking down a cough and Devin Hester was going the distance and I didn’t dare twitch. I had the absolute best seat in the house for the Super Bowl.

I worried for a moment, though, that the Bears’ touchdown might prompt one of my sisters to call and cackle, but then I thought luck would be with me -- and they’d be drinking to their good fortune.

FROM WHAT I understand, the Wengernutts got tickets for the game, and I can only imagine what a couple of dripping wet Wengernutts must look like.

As for my sisters, I didn’t hear from either of them, and just figured they continued drinking to their bad fortune. Whatever they feel now, I’m pretty sure they’ll get over it. After all, they’ve been Cubs fans all their lives.

IT IS 5:39 p.m. Monday, and James Worthy and Alan Massengale just finished gushing about Smush Parker’s recent play, and now it’s John Ireland’s turn to gush. At the same time in Atlanta, Parker is 0 for 5 from the field.

The tape-delayed game, though, has yet to tip off on KCAL/Channel 9 -- 39 minutes after the news has ended and 99 minutes after the game has started. In Atlanta there’s 5:39 remaining in the third quarter, and while Parker probably wouldn’t have protested a lengthier delay, apparently it’s KCAL’s feeling that the longer it makes fans wait to watch the Lakers, the higher the level of anticipation.