Time to buy some nachos!
Posted: Wednesday January 27, 1999 02:58 PM
Tuesday, during the 15-minute drive to my hotel in Miami, the station I was
listening to cut into its broadcast to announce that Michael Jackson had
been spotted in the city and was apparently "going to attend the game on
Sunday." Yes, indeed, I thought as I almost drove off the road, there's no
doubt about it, I have landed on Planet Super Bowl
XXXIII.
Other thoughts and observations from my first day in this strange
world:
In the first paper I picked up, there was a story about Cher trying to
get a room in town. (What, she having trouble getting the senior discount?) ...
I have no way to check this but I just get the sense that somewhere around here,
Kool and the Gang have just finished their set. ... In the lobby I heard
that a friend of a friend went to a local golf course today and got paired up
with Lawrence Taylor and Jim Brown .
...
A reporter from a paper in Denver asked for my prediction for the game.
"31-17," I say.
"Who wins?"
"No idea," I say.
...
Gotta tell ya, I've only been here a day and if I hear that awful Will
Smith song Miami one more time I'm gonna need an instant massage,
which, by the way, is being provided for members of the press in the media
lounge. Hi, everyone, I'm here for a week in sunny Florida with my expense
account, covering the biggest single sporting event in mankind, but, boy, could
I use a massage to ease the stress. ... My room-service menu has a picture of
George Hamilton on it. ... Flier slipped under my door: Genuine English
Fans Require Tickets, Please Call. ... To get to the media center here you must
walk through a labyrinth of sports-radio booths set up in the hotel's lobby, an
area I like to call the breezeway of banality. Back and forth every day for the
next week I will go, forced to listen to sports radio several times a day. Now
at least I know what H-E-double hockey sticks is like.
...
Inside the media center I am greeted by a life-size poster of NFL commish
Paul Tagliabue. I think the cardboard commish may actually have a better
personality. ... There are also giant blow-up dolls of Terrell Davis
and John Elway. ... Times my room has been buzzed by a news helicopter:
four. Nope, make it five. ... My reward for covering the game (besides all of
your deepest thanks and praise) is a tote bag made of fake blue leather that
looks like it was constructed out of Eddie Murphy's blue leather suit
from the movie Raw. The NFL spared no expense for these trinkets. No, I
mean that literally. The NFL spared no expense on these trinkets. (Who wants it?
I'm serious. The first reader to email me with the headline from the very first
Flem File gets the blueberry briefcase. Hint: It appeared in early 1996, on the
old SI Online)
...
Nearby in the media center there is a promotional booth for something called
Choice Seats, which is a TV attached to your stadium seat that can give you
angles, stats and other information you could only get by ACTUALLY WATCHING THE
GAME RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU THAT YOU PAID $2,000 BUCKS TO SEE IN PERSON. Atop the
screen is a teaser that reminds you it's time to buy some nachos. ...
Earlier in the day I visited with Heat coach Pat Riley . His team is rusty
but I'm happy to report Riley's hair is in midseason form. ...
Press releases are everywhere here. There's one from Campbell's Soup. Another
gives info about an NFL Alumni clay-pigeon-shooting exhibition that is THREE
PAGES LONG. Whose idea was it to encourage pro athletes to play with guns? ...
Another release tells us that Ben Stein from Comedy Central will be here
doing his game show with NFL players, with categories like "Tackle Me
Elmo " and " Namath That Tune." Yet another release
tells of a $50,000 wager on the game between Belfast and Swansea, Wales. I also
read about an event where 15 NFL players will try to tow a 747 for charity.
This, I believe, is the flight I am booked on to leave town. And finally, from
the NFL pool reports from each practice, I dutifully pass along this info: The
Broncos practiced for an hour and 25 minutes in no pads under glorious sunny
skies. The Falcons practice was, and I quote, "snappy."
...
By the way, if this column ever had a little ad crawling across the top like
those stupid seats with TV screens, I'd like it to say, It's time for some
nachos! ... Shades of pink I am aware of before coming to Miami: two. Shades
I've seen today: 14.
...
Nevertheless, I type these thoughts on a balcony 22 floors up, with the sunset
and the greenish-blue water of Biscayne Bay as a backdrop. Life ain't bad, I
think. And just as I finish that phrase, a car drives by below and some idiot
screams, "BRONCOOOOOOOOOOS, NUMBER ONE MAN,
WEEEEEEEWW!!!!"
Yes, indeed, I have landed on Planet Super Bowl
XXXIII.
Spanning the strange and wonderful world of sports, the Flem File has visited
a nudist colony, investigated nasal strips, tried out for the Olympic bobsled
team and endured injury and humiliation at the NFL Experience. What, or who,
should we riff on next week? If you've got a suggestion, a comment or a
question, don't just sit there, bring it on! Click here to send an e-mail to
Flem, or address it yourself: flemfile@aol.com.
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