John Delach

The 2008 Improbable Playoff Season

John Delach

November 2025

Security outside the stadium was complicated by a maze that fans had to transverse to reach the pat down point. They backed up as fans filled them so we were shuffled past two gates forcing us to walk three quarters of the way around the stadium and climb over concrete barriers. We carried little to a avoid having any items confiscated. I didn’t even take my binocular case as I had been told that it was not permitted

In fact, the next day I learned how silly security was from my seat mate on our flight out of Tucson. This fellow took his eight-year-old son to the game. He told me that he had bought his son a mini football at the airport. The kid carried it everywhere, but when they went to enter the stadium, the security guard explained that he had no choice but to confiscate it since someone could throw it onto the field. This fellow told me, “What was really wrong was they took this harmless football from an eight-year-old before we could enter and yet, not ten feet away, they were selling the same football at their concession stands. That’s just wrong.”

When the bar codes on our tickets were successfully read, the leap of faith was complete. We saluted each other and split up, four of us heading for Section 423 in the upper deck and the rest of the boys to Section 123, directly beneath us in the lower deck. Mike, Dave, Tim and I climbed the steep stairs, the two of them to Row 22 and Mike and I to Row 23. You may ask the question, “Why were you in Row 23?” The answer: “Because there was no Row 24.”

We were located on the Patriots side of the field at the turn behind the end zone. I wasn’t unhappy. My binoculars would be effective and I could stand up whenever I wanted.

Michael left for the head shortly before the game began and didn’t return by the time the Patriots kicked off. The Giants started the game by keeping the ball for nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds, a Super Bowl record for an opening drive. It ended in a field goal; Giants 3-0. Michael reappeared at the bottom of the stairs waving to me. When I climbed down, he said, “Dad, we can stay down here behind the handicapped seating area or on an adjacent landing (behind what I would call Box Seats.)”

A security guards confirmed this: “You just have to stay three feet from the last row of seats.”

The sight line was much better and we were that much closer to the field. I told Dave and Tim that we planned to stay there and that’s where we stood for the rest of the game.

Things really became tense as the first-half continued. Even though the Patriots scored in the second-quarter; the score was only 7-3. It remained fixed at this number when the Giants forced Tom Brady to fumble at the end of the first-half. I said to Michael, “I’m so glad that we are standing. I’m too stressed to sit. This is insane. I think the key to this game will be the Patriots opening drive in the second-half. If the Giants stop them, they will have a chance.”

I looked around Phoenix University Stadium during halftime. The girders supporting the closed re-tractable roof are impressive, the sight-lines were good and the field; first rate. But the scoreboard was garish and so busy with junk that it was hard to find the score, down or yards to go. The P.A. announcer was awful. He was a far cry from Bob Shepherd, the late Giants P.A. announcer who limited his announcements game facts. 

What I saw in the Giants so far was complete focus and intensity. They retained it as the third quarter began, stopping the Patriots and forcing them to punt. And they accomplished this despite having a penalty called on them for having twelve men on the field on a previous punt that gave the Patriots new life on that drive.

How insane could this game get? With the score remaining 7-3 at the beginning of the fourth-quarter, I didn’t know how much more I could take. Then the Giants scored on their first drive of the fourth quarter on a 5-yard pass from Eli Manning to David Tyree that Tyree caught in the end zone at our end of the field; Giants 10-7.

Oh boy, oh boy. I thought I was going to explode. The Patriots stalled and punted on their next possession as did the Giants. Now 7:54 remained in the game as the Patriots started their next drive at their 20-yard line. Brady got his act together and engineered an 80-yard drive scoring on a third-down pass to Randy Moss with 2:42 left in the game. Patriots 14-10.

A Patriot fan standing near us pulled out a cigar held it in the air and announced, “This game is over.”

“I’m not so sure.” I said to Michael. “There’s a lot of time left on the clock and the Giants have all three-time outs.”

By now many of the stadium employees had stopped working and were watching the game. A big, bald security guard stood next to me. As the Giant offense returned to the field after they had run the kickoff out to the 17-yard line, I turned to him and said, “What do you think?”

He replied, “I think the kid can do it.”

And so Eli did.

Manning put together a 12 play, 83-yard drive highlighted by his great Houdini escape from the Patriot linemen when they had him on the brink of ending the game, followed by his sprint and his 32-yard fling and the impossible catch by David Tyree. A few plays later, when Plaxico Burress put a move on Ellis Hobbs, all he had to do was catch Manning’s lob and get his two feet inbounds inside the end zone right below us. He did: Giants 17-14.

I kissed the security guard on the top of his head.

The Patriots had one last chance with 34-seconds and three-time outs left. When rookie tackle, Jay Alford nailed Brady on second down for a sack, I had the hope that the Patriots wouldn’t reach field goal range, but I held my breath when Brady tried to hit Moss on a pass he must have thrown 75-yards that Corey Webster knocked away at the last second. Ten seconds left on the clock and I was holding my breath. When Brady’s next pass went incomplete, I lost track of the downs and Michael had to remind me that the Giants now had the ball for the one second remaining on the clock.

When Michael lifted me in the air, I knew the Giants had won. The fellow with the cigar stood in stunned silence. Michael yelled to him, “You know where you can put that cigar now.”

We couldn’t hear the trophy presentation and we were too far away to watch it, so Michael and I jubilantly exited the stadium to meet Gordon and Frank and have victory beers.

Jubilant and insanely happy, I took Michael aside and asked him, “Mike, if we played these guys ten times, how many would we beat them?”

Mike smiled, turned toward me and replied, “Pop, we just saw it.”

My cell phone would not transmit or receive calls. Apparently, Verizon was overwhelmed. Our drivers were easy to find and our mates arrived in short order. We didn’t stay long and began the crawl out of the parking lot. The mood was overwhelmingly joyful. We had just seen the greatest football game any of us had ever seen. Then Michael noticed a young woman wearing a Brady Jersey walk by. He leaned out the widow and said, “Don’t worry, Tom, 18-1 ain’t bad.”

“Fuck off.” came her reply.

Brilliant, Michael had nailed her.

Once we reached about a mile from the stadium, everybody’s phones started signaling that we had tons of messages from family and friends. What a great night.

The Giants were the Super Bowl XLII Champions

Go Giants!

The Giants 2008 Improbable Playoff Season

John Delach

November 2025

I’m wired and up at 6 a.m. Damn, I couldn’t find my glasses so I made enough noise to torture my son so that he stirred to find them. “I’ll get you coffee,” was the extent of my apology. That’s how wired I was. Fortunately, Mike knew the wreck he was dealing with.

I made my way down to the Best Western’s continental breakfast for coffee, juice and yogurt. Dave, Jamie, Justine and our van guy, Gordon were there. Gordon came early, very nervous, to explain that the van was not available, but he would replace it with two Ford Excursions.  I listened as he told Jamie that he couldn’t afford to lose this booking. Jamie replied, “It’s not a problem.”

After he left, I said to Jamie, “Having two vehicles could have been a problem. Last night while waiting for Steve, I spoke to some Giant fans from New England sitting at the bar. They were so cool and brave that I offered them one of our two passes, but, fortunately, they already had one.”

Steve picked up our BBQ at 8:00. Steve told us, “They did a great job. The manager didn’t like the way the original batch of chicken looked. It was too soggy so he had the cook make another batch.”

Gordon and his step-son, Frank arrived promptly at 8:30. We divided the food and the Styrofoam coolers now filled with beer, water and soda, between the two Fords, boarded and headed out on I-10 toward Phoenix and the place where our tickets were supposed to be.

The subject came up on the ride, “Why is this stadium where the Cardinals play named after The University of Phoenix, a college that is essentially a correspondence school? They don’t have a football team, hell, they don’t have a campus?”

The answer: “They’re big enough to buy the naming rights.”

 Traffic was light, but frequent Highway Patrol officers in their sexy cruisers some-what maintained traffic at the 75 MPH speed limit. Not too far north of Marano, I spotted the tails of a flock of medium and large size commercial aircraft parked in the distance off to our left. Gordon told us it was the Picato Aircraft Park, an airline graveyard. From the distance, I could make out the distinctive shapes of 747s and DC-10s among the many airplanes stored there.

We learned that he had lived in California and Hawaii before Arizona. “I took a job with a maintenance company in Hawaii. The day after I started, the cops arrived to arrest the owner on an old involuntary manslaughter charge. He went to jail and I got the company.”

Both Gordon and Frank looked like they had many stories they could tell us; stories that we were better off not knowing.

I had the directions to the Comfort Suites mapped out. About a half-hour out, I called Doctor Mike and told him that we’d be there by 10:30. He caught a cab to the hotel while his two traveling companions, Ahab and a doctor colleague, Fred continued to the stadium after dropping Doctor Mike off. We skirted Phoenix and turned north on I-17. As we neared Exit 208, I turned to Dave, “Well, it’s show time. We’ll know in less than ten-minutes if we were good or if we’ll have to find a bar to watch the game.”

Doctor Mike met us in the lobby. He had the cell phone number for John from TicketRESERVE. I called, John appeared, Dave and I produced photo IDs, signed his receipt and he handed us two envelopes each containing two Super Bowl XLII tickets.

We had them! We actually had the tickets in hand. Our prolonged leap of faith was almost over.

The stadium was about ten miles away on local streets. Despite becoming separated as we got close, after some detours, curses and moans; we were able to reassemble in the parking lot by 11:30. Thank the Lord for cell phones.

The stadium was about a mile from where we parked. Between it and us were a movie theatre complex, a pedestrian shopping mall and a Renaissance Hotel. The weather was cool and cloudy, but the predicted showers never arrived.

I called Mary Ann and my daughter Beth to tell them that we had the tickets in hand. I do believe they were as relieved as I was. God bless them both for putting up with me, my anxieties and my foolish journey.

Doctor Mike called Ahab who joined us at our tailgate.

The parking lot tom-toms let us know early on that we were in violation of the parking lot rules. These rules basically held that you had to quickly vacate your vehicle and go to the food court or someplace else. Tailgating was not allowed. The NFL and their sponsors wanted exclusive access to our need for food and beer.

A damn nice sheriff was our first encounter with the folks hired on to be the tailgating patrol. He was as nice as nice could be. He told us to keep beer inside the vehicles and pour it into non-see-through containers. Of course, we didn’t have any non-see-through containers. Dave and Tim volunteered to find containers as they set off for the mall.

We received another security staff admonition and a warning from another tailgating group that some prick threatened to arrest them. We started debating whether or not to shut down the tailgate when Dave and Tim reappeared with ten plastic insulated coffee cups. Case closed, we were staying. Later, another search team came by and asked when we were vacating the SUVs? One of our lads held up his cup and replied, “As soon as we finish our coffee.”

God, that’s why I love this group of guys!

Tim asked me, “Where’s Michael.”

“I think he went to take a leak.”

“Okay, but look what I bought for him.”

Tim produced a large steel bottle opener with the SB XLII Logo on it, the date and location. My son collects bottle openers using both legal and illegal means. “Tim, this is great. It’s the ultimate opener you could give to him.”

When Michael returned, Tim offered it to him. “Hey, now,” Michael exclaimed, “That’s the king of my collection. How much do I owe you?”

Tim replied, “Nothing, it’s a gift.”

“Hey, now, this is really neat. Thank you, a bunch, man.” Mike replied as he hugged Tim.

Encounters with Patriot fans were few and far between. We did have a moment when three young men in New England jerseys walked close to us. They had fixed oval stickers to their jerseys that proclaimed: 19-0.

 “A little premature, boys…you could be jinxing your team as you’re screwing with the football gods,” were a few of the more civilized comments they received. By now, even though the tailgate police had disappeared into the afternoon, it was time to close down the tailgate and venture into the stadium.

Here was my message. The one my mates were sick and tired of hearing:

Nobody, I mean NOBODY thinks that our team has any chance of winning this game. But still, the Giants are going into harm’s way. You never have the chance to engage the enemy with the navy you want. You must engage the enemy with the navy you have. So, like Spruance at Midway and Halsey at Guadalcanal, let’s be prepared to take the lumps we have to take to win.

I heard a Hall of Fame player being interviewed last week on either WFAN or ESPN. When asked who would win, he said: ”I’m an AFC man. I played my entire career in the AFC. I was a member of four Super Bowl teams in the AFC. But this Giant team has something special. They have this thing I call IT. I believe this Giant team is going to win this football game.

 That player was Mean Joe Green. Go Giants!

The 2008 Improbable Playoff Season

John Delach

November 2025

Mike arrived first having set sail from his home in Fairfield, CT at 2:30 am.

Mary Ann drove the two of us first to Joe’s house. Joe was sitting on his front steps when we arrived at 5:00 a.m. Our second stop, was Dave’s house. Dave and his son, Tim were ready when we reached them too. Dave’s wife, Jamie, gave us hugs and wished us well. It was around 5:15 when Mary Ann drove us out of town. “You do realize the last time most of us were together in this truck was when we drove home from the loss to the Patriots.” Dave informed us.

This led to an animated discussion about the playoffs, the team and the Super Bowl that Mary Ann enjoyed. Traffic was light on this Saturday morning and we arrived at the American’s departure area at LaGuardia Airport before 6:00. I explained to the Red Cap at curbside check-in: “Before we check our bags, three of us need boarding passes for our flight from DFW to Tucson. If you can get them for us, there is a substantial tip waiting for you.”

He replied, “Give me your driver’s licenses and I’ll be right back.”

He collected Joe’s, Mike’s and my licenses and disappeared into the terminal returning ten-minutes later with three boarding passes. “Hot dog!” I exclaimed as I handed him a $20 tip and another $20 for checking our bags. I called Mary Ann to let her know that we were in business. Unfortunately, I didn’t know that our flight to DFW had been postponed from 8:15 to 9:20. Joe discovered this as Dave, Tim and I ate breakfast. “We have a problem. If that delay slips, we could miss the flight to Tucson. One of the agents I went to see about a seat in an exit row thinks she can get us on an earlier flight.”

We followed Joe back to the agent. She told us, “One hundred eleven of the 132 passengers booked on Flight 707 have checked in. I’ll put you on stand-by. You better go to the gate as it departs at 7:15.”

Nice gal, she put us at the top of the list. Michael then schmoozed the gate agent who told him he thought we may have a shot. We waited as the flight was loaded. I was about ready to give up when the agent shouted out to us, “Okay, get on now as quickly as you can. Don’t worry about your seat assignments; just grab any empty seat you see.”

We scattered about the 737 that departed on time. Of course, our bags remained with the luggage for the later flight so if that plane missed the connection, so would our bags. Later at DFW, we learned that we had escaped this crisis when we found a group of passengers who were on our original flight. They made it despite the delay and, presumably, so did our bags.

I told my mates that I had just called Mary Ann to update her on our progress and that, so far, all was well. “Well boys, here was her reply, ‘That’s good news. Now calm down and have fun. But, John, this is the last time that you can go on one of these trips. Then again, by the time the Giants get back to the Super Bowl, you’ll probably be dead.”

The connecting flight to Tucson on an MD-80 was uneventful, but the Red Cap who procured our seats back at LGA really did us a favor seating the three of us in the exit rows.

On arrival, Mike told us that he had a text message from Steve who had arrived first. Steve was happy to report that the hotel was clean, well-kept and close to a BBQ restaurant and a WAL-MART that sold liquor, wine and beer. Once we boarded the mini-van that Dave rented from Enterprise. I told Joe, “Joe, Steve doesn’t know that Doctor Mike plans to spend Sunday night at our hotel.”

“So what?” Joe asked.

“Well, I figure that Doctor Mike didn’t reserve a room. That means he’ll stay with Steve or you. When Steve finds this out, he’s going flip out. You’d better be prepared to let Doctor Mike be your room-mate.”

A short ride through beautiful downtown Tucson northwest on I-10 brought us to the Best Western in Marano, Arizona. Following a quick check-in, we hooked-up with Steve and headed to WAL-MART for provisions for the room and tomorrow’s tailgate. Steve told us that The Texas Roadhouse BBQ joint across from our hotel had agreed to supply us with ribs, chicken and pulled pork for tomorrow’s tailgate.

Once his brother, Jamie and son Justin arrived, we walked over to The Texas Roadhouse to place our order and have a drink. Even though it was early, this family restaurant was mobbed with patrons filling the restaurant, the bar, a holding area, the waiters’ stations and outside the front door. The manager advised Steve to return later so we drove to Li’l Abner’s Steakhouse.

I had seen a favorable review of this casual place in the AAA Guide and a fellow Tucson passenger that morning had confirmed it to be a good place to eat.

It was located in a single-story adobe style building that looked to have seen better days. They cooked the meat outside on a huge grill mounted on a circular stone wood burning stove. When we arrived, we saw chicken, ribs, and steak on the grill. Our cute and nice waitress, Alex was helpful. She told us the menu was oral which, of course set the guys off. When we asked her what appetizers they offered, Alex replied, “We don’t do appetizers.”

We decided to order full racks of beef and pork ribs for the table as our starters. When Alex delivered our order, she couldn’t resist commenting, “Well, I guess we do have appetizers after all.”

We ordered steaks as our main course. It was a good feed and they served Fat Tire Beer on tap, a sweet beer that I first enjoyed in 2005 on a trip to Fruita, Colorado.

Over dinner, we let it leak to Steve that Doctor Mike planned to spend Sunday night in our hotel. As anticipated, Steve reacted badly, “What, what. Well, he better have his own room because he’s not staying with me.”

To rev him up further I said, “Maybe you should check at the front desk to see if he reserved his own room,” knowing full well he did not.

We nudged Joe who replied, “I have a single bed. I hope he doesn’t mind a pull-out couch.”

Before returning to the hotel, Steve stopped to see the manager at The Texas Roadhouse and gave him our order. Steve related, “He is coming in early so that we can pick up the food at 8 a.m. and he didn’t ask for nor would he take a deposit.”

The Giants 2008 Improbable Playoff Season

John Delach

November 2025

TicketRESERVE e-mailed us almost as soon as the NFC Championship game ended confirming that we were entitled to buy tickets for Super Bowl XLII and how the process would take place.

“Do you really believe this worked and we’re going to the Super Bowl?” Dave asked, my son, Michael and me while we were celebrating.

“Unbelievable,” I replied. “Simply unbelievable. I bought the options as a lark. It was like walking into a big casino with a single silver dollar, picking a slot machine at random and hitting their monthly jackpot.”

“Who knew,” Mike said, “Who knew!”

Our improbable journey continues.

Giants NFC shirts and hats went on sale as soon as the sporting goods stores opened on Monday morning, the national holiday in honor of Martin Luther King Jr. Mike, his two boys, Drew and Matt and I drove to Roosevelt Field and purchased every article we desired between Modell’s and Dicks. His boys send the tickets rode a merry-go-round before we left the mall. Mike and I wore our new NFC Champion hats while we watched and waited for them. An anxious young man in a regular NY Giant cap asked us where we bought them. “Right in Dicks. There’s a table full of them when you go inside. If you want a shirt, they’ve got a ton of those, too at the other end of the store.”

We stopped at Dave’s house on the way home to drop off two hats and two tee shirts.

During the week leading up to the Packer game, my old pal, Steve Beslity sent me an e mail asking if any of our tailgate buddies were going to that game. I replied, “Not that I know of, but Dave and I had options for the Super Bowl and, if the Giants were going, so were we.”

This message put into motion a dynamic that I didn’t anticipate, our tailgate friends were coming to the game. I never thought to tell them about the options. Damn, it was a lark, something crazy to do. But the world flipped; the Giants were going to the Super Bowl and they wanted in.

The hunt began. Steve, (who resides in London and was traveling to the States on business) made plans to fly into Tucson. His brother, Jamie worked on securing tickets and our fellow Port Washington fan, Joe Minadeo also signed on. They all booked rooms in the same Best Western and Joe booked the same flights we were taking. Jamie bought four tickets through a scalper and by the end of the first week we had put the trip together. There would be eight in our band, Dave and Tim, Mike and me, Steve, Jamie and Jamie’s son, Justin and Joe.

There being eight of us, we agreed not to drive to the game and rented a Korean Church style van and driver to pick us up at the hotel at 9 a.m. on Sunday. I went on line to the University of Phoenix Stadium and purchased two parking passes. We would use one and sell one. Jamie discovered when he booked the van that Arizona had recently passed a stiffer DWI law mandating a 45-day jail term for a first offense.

On Thursday, January 24, we received an e mail from TicketRESERVE stating that they weren’t going to send the tickets by FedEx until the following Thursday for overnight arrival on Friday, February 1^st  Talk about cutting it close. At least now I knew what I was going to be doing next Friday; anxiously waiting for the tickets to arrive.

The parking passes arrived on Monday, but my anxiety level continued to climb waiting for Friday and FedEx to arrive with our game tickets. Joe Sharkey wrote in his weekly “On the Road” column in The New York Times that Arizona was crazy with Super Bowl fever and airline tickets were out of control. US Airways was charging $3,309 for a round-trip coach ticket from New York to Phoenix for Super Bowl weekend. United’s fare was $2,450.99 and American’s, $1,857.

By Wednesday, another issue raised my level of anxiety. When Dave’s travel agent booked our flights on American, she didn’t have seats for Mike, Joe and me on the leg from Dallas-Fort Worth (DFW) to Tucson. Dave and his son were the only exceptions. I feared       overbooking was in progress, especially after I called American and discovered that seats on three of the four later flights from DFW to Tucson were also closed out except for airport seat assignment.

The alternatives to reach Tucson from DFW bordered on the ridiculous. We could possibly take a Taxi to Love Field in Dallas and switch to a flight on Southwest Airlines to Tucson or transfer to an alternate American flight to El Paso, Texas and drive four hours to Tucson.

There was a force at work here that was truly testing us. Dave called me on Thursday morning. “You’d better open your e mail. We have a big problem with the tickets. The weather in Chicago and Memphis has screwed up delivery.”

Part VIII Preparing for Arizona continued:

I realized right away that, if TicketRESERVE  sent our tickets at the last moment, it could result in an enormous problem.

I opened my emails and found a message from TicketRESERVE marked URGENT advising that FedEx had declared “National Service Disruption” due to freezing rain and sleet at their Memphis hub. FedEx expected 5-7” of snow as did TicketRESERVE at their Chicago HQ.

TicketRESERVE decided to establish an onsite will-call in Phoenix, where we winners could pick up our Super Bowl tickets. This will-call would be open on Saturday (2/2) from 2:00 PM – 6:30 PM local time at the Comfort Suites at Metro Center, 10210 N. 26th Dr. Phoenix, AZ, 85021

They informed us that, if you cannot make it to the will-call on Saturday due to travel plans, please let us know immediately and we will work out an amicable solution.  Everyone picking up tickets will need to present a photo ID.

“Oh swell.” I replied to Dave. This phone call led to a number of e mails and phone calls that confirmed that their representative would also be available on Sunday up until noon at the same will-call located in the Comfort Suites Hotel We authorized them to take our tickets to Phoenix where we planned to pick them up between 11 a.m. and noon. Fortunately, Comfort Suites is located about ten miles from the stadium parking lot.

Attending this Super Bowl has become insane. When Steve, Jamie, Doc Michael Attubato and I ventured to Tampa for Super Bowl XXV in 1991, the face value of the tickets was $150. Ten years later, when we returned to Tampa for SB XXXV, the price on the ticket was $ 350. The face value of tickets for Super Bowl XLII is $700. Now that’s inflation.

Late on Thursday evening, TicketRESERVE advised that my two tickets were in the upper deck, Section 423, Row 23, Seats 13 and 14. I called Dave as we had asked them to coordinate our seats, and they did. Dave’s two seats were in the same section, Row 22, Seats 15 and 16. Good enough for government work.

NOBODY, BUT NOBODY, EXCEPT US DUMB-ASSES WHO SUPPORT THE NEW YORK FOOTBALL GIANTS GIVE OUR TEAM ANY CHANCE.

The Patriots were going into the game 18-0; the best team in professional football. The 1972 Miami Dolphins went undefeated and won the Super Bowl, achieving a record of 17-0. All the Patriots had to do to achieve immortally was quite simple, just beat the Giants. The odds makers listed the Pats as 14-point favorites. This betting line modestly retreated to 12 by Friday, still a fabulous endorsement of the new, yet still growing manifestation of an NFL dynasty. Who indeed, in their right mind would pick the Giants over the Patriots?

Even I had to admit that everything being equal, the Patriots should collect their fourth ring.

Bill Briggs, my son-in-law’s father telephoned me on Thursday, January 31^st. Bill and I enjoy sports. He’s a New England guy from a little town outside of Springfield, Mass and a good friend. Here’s what he told me, “I’ve done great this post season. I haven’t lost a game yet. I’m betting on the Giants on Sunday.”

I didn’t ask Bill if he was only relying on the point spread, figuring I’d let sleeping dogs lie.

Friday brought a ton of rain and another development. Mike Attubatto (Doctor Mike) called to let me know that he and another tailgate regular, Ahab Ali had bought tickets on E-Bay and were flying to Phoenix tomorrow. “Do you want me to pick up the tickets for you?”

I thanked Doctor Mike, but said we’d get them on Sunday. We decided that he and Ahab would meet us at the Comfort Suites and we would continue to the stadium together. “I also need a ride back to Tucson. I have a 7:45 a.m. flight on Continental to Newark.”

Fortunately, we rented a ten-passenger van that would accommodate all of us. I wondered if it still had the name of a Korean Church painted on the sides.

At 5:31p.m. WFAN’s premier sportscasters, Mike (Fatso) Francesa and Christopher (Fruit Loops) Russo made their Super Bowl predictions. Fatso picked the Patriots to win 35-17 and Fruit Loops, in an effort to be clever, picket them to beat the Giants 49-7 so that the point differential would be 42 as in Super Bowl XLII.

Perfect! Let the game begin.