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| Open Letter to That Lucky Schlub By Dan Reines |
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[back to introduction and Superbowl Central]
Conditioning: If you think you're going to waltz down to South Florida
with no advance prep and win that pot of gold, then you've got another think
coming, mister. No my friend, you need to be ready. Now, the kicking part
should be a piece of cake: The contest's sponsor will no doubt set you up with
some cash-strapped ex-kicker, and assuming you and he speak the same language
(not always a given), you should be kicking perfect rainbows in no time. What
you really need to concentrate on in the weeks and months before the Big
Day is
your mental game, and that means two things: music and movies.
Now, the former is perhaps the most important, and most accessible, tool you
have to keep you focused, and you need to pay very careful attention to what
you're listening to. Make sure it's hard-driving, we-will-rock-you stuff
—
songs you can you can use to hum yourself into hyperventilation on Game Day.
Survivor's always a good option, as is Gary Glitter. And just about
anything by
Queen will do fine. One note of caution: Stay the hell away from the Lilith
Fair. It's like Mickey said to Rocky: "Women weaken the legs."
As for the movies, just go find yourself a copy of Gus. Remember Gus?
Disney flick? Don Knotts, Ed Asner, Tom Bosley, Tim Conway, and Gus, the
kicking mule? Yeah, well you need to be watching that at least once a day
— twice a day during the final week. Get cracking, hot shot. Time is
money. Trust me.
Game Day: You're bound to be nervous on the big day, but with a little
foresight, you can ensure that the only thing you'll have to worry about will
be putting your foot on that ball. For starters, skip the tailgates. A few
cold
ones might calm your nerves, yes, but you don't want them that calm. Besides,
you're liable to get swept up in things, and the next thing you know,
you'll be
sitting thirty rows up, shirt off, your torso painted blue or yellow like that
poor girl in Goldfinger, and you'll forget all about what you're there for.
Secondly, give some thought to what you're wearing. If you're the
superstitious
type, you might be tempted to wear a lucky sweatshirt of some kind. Don't.
When
you show up, the corporate sponsors are going to insist that you wear a
T-shirt
advertising their brand over your other clothes. And while that pullover with
the talking chihuahua sure is fresh, the fact is you're just going to end
up on
television with big, puffy, doughboy arms, and no one wants to see that. So
take my advice, and go with a simple tank top. Trust me.
The Celebration: Most people overlook the celebration, mistakenly
assuming that that part takes care of itself. The truth is, it doesn't, not
unless you want to be remembered as the dork who won the money, then ran a
shirtless victory lap doing belly-bumps with the team mascots. Hey, it's all
right there in the Good Book: "What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain
the
whole world, and lose his dignity with a pathetic, unplanned celebration?"
So take a minute and visualize what you're going to do when (not if!) you win
that booty. Remember, less is more. A simple field goal signal will do, both
arms raised in an exuberant cheer. Maybe throw in a spontaneous hop or two, or
pump your fist like you're trying to get a truck driver to honk. Just do us
all
a favor, friend, and don't raise the roof. Take my word for it, the roof has
been raised, and much more effectively than you could ever possibly raise it. For
years now, folks have been raising the roof. Don't be so arrogant as to think
that you can add some fresh angle to it. You can't. Trust me.
So that's about it, amigo. Good luck out there — with a little
forethought, you should be fine. Now, don't forget your friends when you
get to
the top, hey? After all, I love a yacht ride as much as the next schlub.
Eye of the Tiger, Baby.
Dan Reines |
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