What the hell did I just watch on ESPN?

Sunday for me is, like so many other American men of the male gender, Football day.

The NFL season doesn't start for two weeks. So, as I sat on my plush recliner (a.k.a. my "throne") and wielded the mighty scepter of male power (a.k.a. the Roku remote) I had choices to make. After a thorough search, I came up with the following:

• Preseason NFL (49ers and somebody)
• Canadian football (Calgary somebodies and Winnipeg Cold Shoulders)
• Curling (in August?!?)
• Championship Cornhole. (Huh huh huh, huh huh huh.)
• High school football

The high school game -- taking place at Tom Benson Stadium near the Pro Football Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio -- featured IMG Academy, one of the best teams in Ohio, in an annual appearance on ESPN. I had never heard of their opponent (which is unusual for me, considering I've been a sportswriter in Ohio for over 10 years) but I figured they had to be good. So I checked it out.

Boy, was I wrong.

I had no idea that Bishop Sycamore was not up to the caliber of IMG. I also had no idea I was about to embark on a mystery so epic I should have enlisted the help of a stoned beatnik and his talking Great Dane.

There aren't enough Scooby Snacks in Jamaica to satisfy this mystery.

For starters, IMG Academy led 30-0 early in the second quarter. At that point, the ESPN announcers began to question whether Bishop Sycamore belonged on the same field as IMG (they waited until then?) They said things like "This is dangerous for these kids" and "They (Sycamore) didn't show up on our database."

Let's analyze that last statement for a second.

ESPN agreed to broadcast this game. They agreed to show it despite knowing nothing about one of the teams. Apparently they did "research" on Bishop Sycamore which, I guess, consisted of asking a few people hanging around the Hall of Fame if they knew any of the players. Someone told them that there are "a lot of D-I prospects" on the team. I'm not kidding -- ESPN based the broadcast entirely on one person telling them that.

Their research definitely didn't consist of anything as strenuous as a Google search, which would have revealed a lot more. It would have pulled off the rubber ghost monster zombie mask to reveal it was really Old Man Jenkins all along.

Bishop Sycamore, it seems, is only in its third season in existence. Its third season ever. The Centurions (admittedly a pretty cool name) played only two games against OHSAA opponents in 2019, They played six games last season, going 0-6 and scoring more than 8 points just once. Their first two games this season were losses as well, with their more recent game against some school called Sto-Rox in Pennsylvania on Friday.

That's right. Two days before they played IMG.

Now, to be fair to IMG Academy, they only booked this game to fill out their schedule. Adding a cupcake early in the season is fine for big-time programs. Ohio State does this against Florida International, or Alabama against Troy State, or Purdue against the Cincinnati Bengals.

Bishop Sycamore is an online charter school. However, there's no physical address. Not the school, anyway. There's a P.O. Box. A deeper search utilizing other legal (promise!) searches revealed an address on Chiller Lane in Columbus, near Easton Town Center. Using Google Maps, here's the actual building:

Yeah, looks legit.

ESPN admitted they didn't book the game for their network. They used some group called Paragon Marketing Group, which says on its website it "creates remarkable journeys." Apparently that includes trips to nondescript buildings near Easton.

When ESPN issued its statement essentially apologizing for the game, people responded with further concerns. Specifically, some of the players played both games over the weekend. But it's okay, because some players on the roster (good luck finding one) are over the high school legal limit of 19 years old.

The school's official contact is Andre Peterson, whose son plays quarterback. At least in one of the games. Maybe both. Or perhaps he sat out one of the games to enjoy a beer.

Their head coach held a press conference Monday which, according to USA Today, lasted over 90 minutes -- not bad for a high school team that hasn't won in two years. He basically defended his "school" as best as he could before he ended everything by yelling "and I would have gotten away with it if it wasn't for you meddling kids."

Maybe I should have stuck with Championship Cornhole.

Huh huh huh. Cornhole. Huh huh huh.

Follow Bill on Twitter @WildLegend and on Facebook to sign up for a completely legit football team to take on the Cincinnati Bengals in next year's preseason. (We'd probably win by 14.)

Back to the Ballpark: What's On the Menu?

Good news, fans. The country is slowly, but surely, opening back up.

That means fans in the stands.

That means revenue for baseball.

And that means we will definitely have a baseball season. Which means I'll actually pay attention this year.

I confess, I didn't watch a single Major League game in 2020. I watched about three innings of the World Series, and that was only out of completion, or boredom. I didn't invest in the baseball season because, honestly, I didn't think they would finish it.

Didn't finish dinner, either. Not been a good year.

But they did. And apparently it was a pretty good season. But I missed it. Then again, Netflix has some pretty good shows, too. All I watch on Netflix are Daredevil, Luke Cage, and Nailed It.*

So, I decided to prepare for the 2021 season. And then I find out that nearly every cable company and streaming service has removed the Fox Sports networks. Apparently, while I wasn't paying attention**, Sinclair Broadcasting bought all the stations then proceeded to threaten to remove them all unless they were paid more money. (I believe the actual term they used was a "s#!@load".) Every cable company, having more common sense than lawn furniture, said no. So now, I'm deprived of SportsTime Ohio around here, which means the only times I'll get to watch the Cleveland [Insert Nickname Here] is when they're on national TV, and based on this year's roster, that should be zero.

But, with the nation opening up, I'll get to attend a game or two. That means I'll get to hit the traditional Hot Dog Stand.

Usually, baseball teams like to give their best food products catchy names. With Cleveland not having any players to write home about, I thought about players from around the league. Maybe, to attract fans, Cleveland can provide some goodies named after some of them. So, let's take a step into my Make Up Stupid Stuff Machine, and imagine ourselves at Progressive Field, standing in line to buy our families some yum-yums. I'll bet the menu would look something like this...

Yeah, yeah, it doesn't say Cleveland on the ticket. It's a stock photo. Sue me.

WELCOME TO PROGRESSIVE FIELD

Please form a single-file line, six feet apart. You may need glasses to see the menu. Or a telescope.

CURRENT SPECIALS:

SHANE BIEBER ... Small but tasty hot dog. Good for starters.  $10

FRANCISCO LINDOR ANDRES GIMENEZ ... Cheeseburger. Not sure what to make of it yet.  $8

FERNANDO TATIS ... All-beef hot dog seriously undercooked. And overpriced.  $6,795.00

GEORGE BRETT ... All-beef cheeseburger coated in spices as well as a tar-like substance. Good flavor, but a few hours later it makes you -- well, you figure it out.  $5

JOHN KRUK ... 12-inch meatball sub. Missing half the meatballs.  $29.29

BLAKE SNELL ... Large, juicy bratwurst with all the fixings. After one bite, Kevin Cash yanks it away and replaces it with a salad.  $5 1/3

SAMMY SOSA ... Large hot dog hollowed out and filled with cole slaw.  $66.

MICKEY CALLAWAY ... A hot dog, plain, with no bun. Placed in front of you when you didn't ask for it. No Charge

CLEVELAND INDIAN SPECIAL ... Nachos with small amounts of unidentified toppings. No, we don't know what they are, either.  Formerly the Cincinnati Red Special.  $45-117

PITTSBURGH PIRATE SPECIAL ... Same as the Cleveland Indian Special, but with no toppings.  $44-118

ANGEL HERNANDEZ ... Third-pound cheeseburger made it order, though you likely won't get it the way you ordered it.  $15

PETE ROSE ... Quite simply the tastiest hot dog you've ever had. Comes with free guide to Saturday's races at Santa Anita along with a 25%-off coupon for a bad haircut.  $41.92

ALEX RODRIGUEZ ... Very beefy hot dog filled with all kinds of artificial meat hormones. Available only around the taco stand.  $250.

TIM TEBOW ... Our kids meal.  $1.15

ALBERT BELLE ... Don't ask.  $.01

Follow Bill on Twitter @WildLegend and get coupons for great Cleveland merchandise. Offer not available in the U.S. or Canada, or overseas.

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*--And The Crown. But only because Mrs. Legend watches it. Honest.

**--Hey, Gillian Anderson is really good in The Crown.

The NFL wants paid. The Mouse won't fork it over.

Most NFL fans are following the offseason "hot stove league" of quarterbacks. Where will Deshaun Watson end up? Will the 49ers get rid of Jimmy Garoppolo? Is there any way Sam Darnold doesn't go to Chicago? Will Ben Roethlisberger finish his transformation into a life-size mannequin?

But that's not good enough for those of us NFL fans who are also total geeks and who also can't afford a PlayStation 5. We all know the real money is in the TV contracts. And guess what? They're up.

Actually, they aren't up until 2022. But the NFL reportedly wants to re-up their deals with the networks now, before the official start of the NFL season in March.

And the NFL wants to get paid.

Apparently, the league wants to nearly double the rights to air the games. That means CBS and Fox, the two biggest customers, will have to fork over nearly $2 billion per year.

$2 billion. Per year.

That's enough for, like, three beers at Dodger Stadium.*

According to some reports, and by some reports I mean the first few entries to come up on my Google search, Disney is pushing back on this. Disney feels it's paying too much for the NFL as it is. The company is afraid that, if there's another price hike, Disney might have to raise the price of tickets to Disney World. Already, the cost of a one-day family pass to the Magic Kingdom is about the same as the entire gross national product of Kenya.

Not including that hat.

Seriously, though, Disney has a point.

When ESPN first bought the rights to Monday Night Football back in 2006, they paid $1.1 billion for it. That doubled the rights from a year prior, when ABC had paid $550 million. Yes, ESPN outbid ABC. Despite the fact that ABC owned ESPN. I would explain it further but I didn't pay attention in economics class.

Anyway, ESPN gave up Sunday Night Football to get MNF. They had paid $600 million for Sunday Night games. NBC picked it up, for a slight raise of $650 million.

So, NBC pays $650 million for a forgettable package. ESPN paid $1.1 billion for a prime time stalwart.

The first game the NFL gave NBC? Colts vs. Giants, the first ever matchup between Peyton and Eli Manning.

The first Monday Night game for ESPN? San Diego vs. Oakland, a 27-0 snoozefest between the two worst teams in the AFC West.

And it continued that way: Jags over Steelers 9-0, Saints over Falcons 23-3, Eagles over Packers 31-9, Broncos over Ravens 13-3...

Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera

ESPN obviously felt that they weren't paying enough for these non-marquee games, because they re-upped in 2014 for $1.9 billion.

NFL is justifying all this by saying that, hey, ESPN also has SportsCenter, and this package gives them the rights to show NFL highlights. Well, maybe so, but NBC has a whole 90-minute pregame show which shows nothing but NFL highlights.

And Jac Collinsworth. Too much Jac Collinsworth.

Look, I get it. The NFL wants paid for that extra Week 18. And for those two additional wild card games. I'm sure that's work a couple billion dollars. Maybe the NFL should think about adding two more weeks, giving each team 18 games with two bye weeks. Then increase the playoffs to 30 teams, insuring that only fans in Cincinnati and Jacksonville would face disappointment.

You know, with all that money, Roger Goodell could afford to take his whole family to Disney World for two days.

Follow Bill on the Twitter @WildLegend and bid on the rights to re-air Bill's playoff run with the Browns on Madden.

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*--Or four hot dogs.

Movie Review: Fantastic Four -- the Original One

God, I love the You-tubes.

When I was in college, I had a bit of a reputation for finding odd, obscure movies on VHS tape. For those of you who aren't of a certain age, VHS cassettes were big, bulky plastic things that held movies that were never properly rewound so you always had to wait to see the part of the movie you wanted, sometimes as long as two weeks, then you hoped the tape inside the cassette wasn't creased or torn anywhere which would render the whole thing useless. Some of the more well-off folks with much more wealthy lifestyles had something that were much better than VHS players: VHS rewinders. You put a cassette in it, turned it on, and waited while it rewound the tape in much less time -- days, rather than weeks -- then would automatically spit the cassette out, usually with the tape torn somewhere.

I digress. Back in the day, my collection of not-torn tapes consisted of some true rarities: The Star Wars Holiday Special, the director's cut of Easy Rider, Johnny Carson's 15th Anniversary Show, IWA King of the Death Match*, an outtake from Mary Poppins in which Julie Andrews drops the F-bomb.

But, for some reason, I could never get a hold of the worst superhero movie ever made. No, not Batman v Superman. I'm talking about the original Fantastic Four, produced by Roger Corman.

The stars of the movie are watching their dignity flying away.

Not long ago, on a hunch, I did a search for obscure Marvel cartoons from the 1960s. Suddenly, there it was, staring at me like an orange cat turd on a sunny North Carolina beach. I knew I had discovered one of my personal Holy Grails, or at least a very well-designed Plastic Cup. I also discovered that all the work I had to do for the rest of the night was completely shot.

I had to see this for myself. And folks, because I had to see it, I get to review it for you, so you don't have to. That's how much I love each and every one of you.**

Nothing sells a movie better than having your stars too far to be seen.

The film begins with a professor excitedly talking about a comet that passes by only every 8 million years or so, but it's coming tonight, so "get your telescopes." Which is funny because, when the comet passes, it's so bright that people looking up at it are actually wincing.

We then meet Reed Richards, a college student rooming with the Storm family, including pre-teen Susan, who watches Reed and says, "He's so dreamy." So, that's not creepy at all.

Reed and his friend, Victor Von Doom (a very unfortunate surname), decide to build a device to harness the comet's power, or something. It goes wrong, and the machine explodes, causing Victor to scream for approximately three hours before finally dying.

Or does he?

He's rescued later by some group of people with no real explanation. This becomes a running issue with this movie, as you'll see.

Fast-forward ten years. The comet is passing by again, so Reed wants to fly into it. He recruits his college buddy Ben Grimm to fly it, because he's a pilot. He then drives to the Storms' and recruits Sue and her brother Johnny, because reasons.

Reed sees Sue. They haven't seen each other in 10 years, yet they stare at each other as if they have been in love all that time. More creepy.

They launch their rocket into space, which is covered by all the local newspapers and TV stations. They fly into the path of the comet, using such technical terms as "Enter release sequence" and "Activate the gravitational field," proving once and for all that the scriptwriters did absolutely zero research into space flights.

Anyway, the comet belches at them, or something, and they get bathed in "cosmic rays" which causes them to "crash to the ground" and suffer no "injuries." Except the world thinks they're dead. And everyone watching wishes they were.

Later that night, or the next night, or a decade later, they're found by military vehicles. By now, all of them have shown their powers, including Ben, who turned into a guy wearing an orange rock suit. Check out the video at Fantastic Four (1994) - The Thing - YouTube (for maximum effect, jump to 0:54 in the video.)

They are taken to a facility, which is actually the home of Victor, who now sits on a throne, wearing a metal suit with a spiffy green cape, and calls himself "Dr. Doom", dropping the Von in the process. I'm sure Dr. Doom explains all these things, but you really can't understand him because the mask muffles his voice hilariously.

The mad scientist in the corner adds just the right villainy touch. Wouldn't you say?

Suddenly, the foursome lives together in the Baxter Building in Manhattan, because time constrains. Ben, now known just as "Thing", leaves the group because no one understands him. Look, it's true that no one understands him. That's because his mouth doesn't move properly when he speaks. This isn't just bad lip reading. The Thing IS bad lip reading.

Anyway, he goes to "the underground," where he encounters some villain called The Jeweler. Here's where the comic book geek in me comes out: The Jeweler was originally The Mole Man, who was the FF's villain in their first comic book appearance. But, Corman couldn't secure the rights to the character, so rather than write the character out, they just changed his name to The Jeweler and left all his mole-like characteristics intact.

Okay, I lied. They actually borrowed him from the set of Leprechaun, The Revenge

Thing escapes somehow and decides to return to the rest of the group because he forgot his wallet. The reunion is suddenly interrupted when Dr. Doom appears on Reed's widescreen TV and talks to them. (I wish I were kidding about this. Even my eight-year-old son is rolling his eyes at this point.) Dr. Doom threatens to destroy New York with a giant laser (that conjures up a bunch of stock videos of nuclear bomb tests we've all seen at least once a week on MTV's Headbangers Ball) unless they give him their powers, because that's how superheroing works.

Instead, the FF goes to the castle and kicks Dr. Doom's butt. But first, Sue tells the group they can't leave until they get into their brand-new costumes she made, because why not since everything else makes no sense.

As they defeat Doom, he fires the laser anyway because one final plot twist. So Johnny, as the Human Torch, flies ahead of the laser to absorb it. Let's think about this: lasers travel at the speed of light, and the Human Torch can just fly up and catch up to it? So, he can go faster than the speed of light?

So, that's it. Marvel regained ownership of the characters when Disney bought Fox, and apparently they're planning to introduce the Fantastic Four to the MCU. All I have to say is, if they don't have a giant laser, I'm not buying a ticket.

Follow me on Twitter @WildLegend and send me other things you want to see in the upcoming FF movie.

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*--Main event: Mick "Cactus Jack" Foley vs. Terry Funk in a no-rope, barbed wire, bed of nails, C4 explosives match. Nope, not kidding.

**--Not like that.

My diary: Super Bowl Sunday

I may have mentioned it before, but I am somewhat of a Super Bowl Historian.

Naturally, Super Bowl Sunday is my Christmas. Or Halloween. Or Arbor Day. Whatever you're in to.

So, I decided to keep a log on everything I did on Sunday. Maybe you'll learn something. Maybe you'll read and then realize you wasted seven minutes of your life. Either way, thanks for reading.

****

December 17, 2:15 a.m. -- The Super Bowl Pregame Show begins.

February 7, 6:30 a.m. -- I wake up bright and early, ready for The Big GameⓇ. Then I go back to bed, because it's much too early.

7:30 a.m. -- I am awakened by my two young boys who, at ages 11 and 8, have not yet learned the concept of "sleeping in" on weekends. It's amazing. On school days, I literally drag them out of bed sometimes, and I'm finding it's easier just to drag their mattresses down to the dining room with them still bundled up.

8:30 a.m. -- I turn on ESPN to get some overnight news on the game. Apparently Tom Brady had an all-natural breakfast. I would care except, well, I don't.

8:45 a.m. -- My kids outvote me and I'm forced to turn on the latest episode of BattleBots for the fourth time this week. Don't get me wrong: robots fighting each other is really, really cool, especially for those of us who happen to be guys. But, when it's the fourth time you see the same episode, it's hard to get excited when you know that Tombstone is about to get crushed by Captain Shrederator.

Though still freakin' cool.

12 noon -- I get physically prepared for The Big GameⓇ by enjoying a healthy lunch: tossed salad with carrot sticks, kale, and celery, with a tomato shake for dessert. Of course, I don't actually have all those items, so I settle for a family size bag of Funyuns.

1 p.m. -- The CBS special "Tony Goes To The Super Bowl" is clearly just a rib to remind Tony Romo that the only way he could ever actually go to the Super Bowl is with his CBS lanyard.

3:45 p.m. -- Just saw a story on 92-year-old George Toma, the official groundskeeper of the NFL. He has been the groundskeeper at all 55 Super Bowls. Finally! A record even Tom Brady can't match.

5 p.m. -- Mrs. Legend prepares your standard Super Bowl dinner: spicy wings in an air fryer, mozzarella sticks, chicken fingers, and nachos.

5:20 p.m. -- My first trip to the upstairs bathroom to fetch a Tums.

5:40 p.m. -- My CBS satellite guide says this is when the actual broadcast is supposed to start, so naturally the kickoff isn't for another hour. We have to have America The Beautiful, the National Anthem, the American Anthem, the Federal Anthem, and each individual player's biography read out loud.

6:15 p.m. -- My family is scared out of our collective minds by OLD!!! I guess forced retirement didn't suit M. Night Shyamalan so he had to make a movie called OLD, about a weird beach or something that makes everyone age very quickly. So, you know, the opposite of BRADY.

Seriously, though, what a terrible title. OLD!!! I don't care how good the movie actually is. It can star Hugh Jackman, Chris Hemsworth, Emma Watson, a reincarnated Marlon Brando, a digitally-created John Wayne, and a hundred topless Scarlett Johansson clones. No one is going to keep a straight face while buying a ticket for OLD!!! E.T. wouldn't have been near as good if it were called A Boy's Life. Same with The Godfather, if it had been titled OLD.

6:37 p.m. -- The kickoff finally happens. I suddenly realize I have to go to the bathroom. (Not for Tums.)

6:57 p.m. -- For some reason, seeing a golfer swat the arm off a puppet is really, really funny to me.

7:16 p.m. -- Brady just threw a touchdown pass to Rob Gronkowski. Bet the folks at Nickelodeon owe Gronk money now.

7:34 p.m. -- Okay, new favorite commercial. "She said 'crack'. Huh-huh. Huh-huh."

8:10 p.m. -- Time for my annual "Whoa, I didn't know that singer recorded that song" part of the Super Bowl.

8:12 p.m. -- I think I had a nightmare once that looked just like The Weeknd's performance. I, too, was surrounded by bandaged dancers in a hall full of mirrors. Biggest difference: they ate my brains, instead of helping my albums spike the sales charts over the next two weeks.

8:26 p.m. -- Bud Light brought back a lot of former stars from its commercials for a "Legend's Reunion." It was missing the satin sheets, but then again, I ask too much. (Seriously though, did the "I Love You Man" guy age a day in the past 20 years?)

8:35 p.m. -- Okay, seriously, is it time to start playing "Yakety Sax" every time Patrick Mahomes drops back to pass? The guy has run more in this game than I have in the past year.

Followed immediately by this guy being chased by a female cop and an old man in boxers.

8:56 p.m. -- I'm impressed that Matthew McConaughey isn't tempted to take off his shirt when he's in a commercial. I swear earlier in his career the guy was allergic to shirts.

9:35 p.m. -- Well, it's obvious who's going to win now. Mahomes is lying on the grass, and Brady is standing over him with one fist clenched by his chest, while the referee begins the 10-count.

9:51 p.m. -- At what point do musicians from New Jersey become cowboys?

10:25 p.m. -- As they do their annual tradition of handing the trophy to Brady and naming him the MVP, I think to myself that now I really have to use the bathroom.

11:05 p.m. -- I climb in bed, where Mrs. Legend is already snoring away. Another Super Bowl day in the books. Another game to add to the history of this great sport.

11:06 p.m. through 3:30 a.m. -- "She said 'crack.' Huh-huh. Huh-huh."

Following Bill on the Twitter @WildLegend for more classic Beavis and Butt-Head lines.

41 Years Ago: My Super Bowl Experience

Forty-one years ago, I went to an event that altered my life forever.

I went to my first (and, so far, my only) Super Bowl.

I am a Super Bowl historian. I can tell you anything you ever wanted to know (or didn't want to know, or didn't really care to know but you have to sit there and listen to me anyway because you're too polite to smack me in the left ear) about the first 54 Super Bowls. Anything at all. Who won. What the score was. Who the coaches were. Who rushed for more yards. Who scored first. Who had the biggest shoe size.*

I believe this obsession began when I was a wee little Legend, when my parents surprised me with tickets to Super Bowl XIV. We lived in Orange County, California, and the Super Bowl was at the Rose Bowl that year which, according to Google Maps, is about 43 miles away. Here in Ohio, that's about 45 minutes away. In California, it takes about 27 hours.

Me and my dad near the stadium. Notice the sad look on my face as I'm forced to wear L.A. Rams clothes.

We picked up the tickets that morning from our friends in Pasadena, then headed for the stadium. We parked approximately 356 miles away from the stadium and headed for the entrance. The giant marquee on the stadium reading "Rose Bowl" greeted us as we walked across the parking lot. There were plenty of vendors, all of them selling Rams merch, Steelers merch, programs, and food. Looking back, I remember everybody selling Pepsi, which is odd because the NFL has had Coke as its official soft drink since the late Cretaceous period.

As we waited to get in the stadium, we met a trio of Steeler fans carrying a giant banner that read "4-Time World Champions". They said they were going to display it in the endzone after the Steelers won. My mom leaned down to me and said, louder than she meant to, "They won't really allow them on the field."

Let's fast-forward to this weekend for a sec. Super Bowl LV is supposed to have around 30,000 fans. To control them, the NFL will provide around 500,000 security guards**. No fan is going to so much as sniff the grass seeds from the field without 30-40 cops tackling them, and that includes the groundskeeper. But, my story takes place 40 years ago, and I don't recall seeing a single police officer in the entire stadium. So, when my mom said they weren't going to allow those fans on the field, the "they" she referred to must have been "the ball boys."

We walked in the stadium like cattle, shoulder to shoulder, and had to wait as Cheryl Ladd was finishing the National Anthem. Cheryl Ladd was a big deal at the time as one of the stars of the TV show Charlie's Angels. In fact, the show was such a big hit that it was canceled weeks after her Super Bowl performance. No truth to the rumor that Ladd was a last-second replacement for Farrah Fawcett.***

We sat behind the Rams' endzone, about two-thirds up the bleachers, just to the left of the goal post. When you talk about a bowl-shaped stadium, there really are no bad seats. But, the Rose Bowl was so huge, we needed oxygen masks. I had to keep my drink by my feet to stop Bob Uecker from drinking it.***

He missed the tag! HE MISSED THE TAG!***

I remember little about the game itself. I know Terry Bradshaw had two first downs using QB sneaks. I know Rams RB Wendell Tyler got hurt about 15 times. I vividly remember the halftime show, featuring the legendary dancing and singing group Up With People.

Up With People, if you don't remember (and I'm sure something in your brain has permanently blocked that memory, probably for your own sanity) is a group consisting of hundreds of teenagers performing a medley of dated songs and dance routines designed to get your feet moving, usually toward the exits. I used the word "is" because, believe it or not, Up With People is still a thing. They still do performances around the world, though mostly in countries such as Sweden and Zambia, where no one has ever heard of Bruno Mars.

Or fashion sense.

Seriously. Go to the You-tubes and search for Up With People Halftime. Then thank me for helping you lose your appetite.

Anyway, after the 75-minute halftime show, the Steelers pulled away. I can say I witnessed the final championship for the legendary Steel Curtain. More than that, I witnessed the apex of the career of Vince Ferragamo, who went on years later to buy the house I lived in as a kid in Orange County.****

As we left the stadium, dejected, we walked to the parking lot. And walked. And walked. And walked some more.

We lost the car.

We finally got back home around 3 a.m. As I lay on the couch, feeling physically sick for some reason, I watched a late night news report showing highlights of the game, and in the end, during a shot of the crowd that had gathered on the field to celebrate, there were those three Steeler fans with their banner, just as they promised. It was then, in my parents' infinite wisdom, that they realized that, throughout the entire day, they had forgotten to get me anything to eat or drink all day.

Enjoy Sunday's game. Or watch more Up With People, followed by a Charlie's Angels marathon.

Follow Bill on the Twitter @WildLegend and win free Super Bowl tickets. But you have to be lucky. And find a contest giving away Super Bowl tickets.

----------------------

*--DeForest Buckner, San Francisco, Super Bowl LIV, size 22eee.

**--I may be exaggerating.

***--If you get that, you're officially old.

****--Seriously.

Random Thoughts: Brady vs. Montana, Super Bowl Ads, and an Anus

I was listening to the radio earlier today, and the DJ said they would later interview a man who claimed to have never missed a Super Bowl.

Immediately, my co-worker and I blurted out at the same time: "Tom Brady."

Sure seems like it.

I always held that Joe Montana was the greatest quarterback to ever suit up. When he was at his best, he was untouchable. He made his teammates better. He made defenses look like a high school JV team.

But, he didn't take his teams to 10 freakin' Super Bowls.

Loser.

So, once and for all, let's settle this. Who is the greatest quarterback of all time? (Between these two, anyway.)

Career passer rating: Montana, 92.3. Brady, 97.3. ADVANTAGE: BRADY.

Best win/loss record: Montana, 117-47 (.713). Brady, 230-69 (.769). ADVANTAGE: BRADY.

Best completion percentage in a season: Montana, 70.2% in 1989. Brady, 68.9% in 2007. ADVANTAGE: MONTANA.

More Super Bowl wins: Montana has four. Brady, once you include his championship game wins, now has 16 rings, meaning his fingers are filled and is now working on his toes. A win next Sunday gives him 17, leaving him room for only four more before he has to start doubling up.* ADVANTAGE: BRADY.

Body mass index: Montana, 25.7. Brady, 27.4. ADVANTAGE: MONTANA.

Best smile: Montana lights up the room. Brady's smile makes me think I owe him money or something. ADVANTAGE: MONTANA.

Best singing voice: Tom Brady sang on SNL once, and sounded like a first grader wearing a tree costume. Then I looked up "Joe Montana Sings" on YouTube and found a great rendition of an Alan Jackson song, before I realized there's actually a country singer out there named Joe Montana. Seriously, doesn't he know? ADVANTAGE: DRAW.

Most bad-ass move: Joe Montana once chased away a would-be kidnapper while watching his grandchild. I don't care what Tom Brady has ever done; nothing is more bad-ass than that. ADVANTAGE: MONTANA.

So, based on his highly scientific study using data I choose to find on the internet, Montana is clearly better. Therefore, if the Chiefs want any chance of winning, they need to sign Montana, stat. Okay, he's 64 years old now, but so what? That's only 21 years on Brady.

Whatever. In other news...

PARAMOUNT-PLUS STREAMING SERVICE COMING IN MARCH. Forget the fact that the new service will have the complete library of Star Trek, or the Godfather movies, or any of a bunch of CBS shows. Rumors have it that subscribers will get the complete Beavis & Butt-Head library.

Pictured, Joe Buck and Troy Aikman Beavis and Butt-Head

Paramount recently ordered two new seasons of Beavis & Butt-Head, which is about two complete idiots who make fun of everyone, and who learn everything from videos they see on their TV. If you have trouble imagining this, just pretend they subscribe to QAnon.

NO COKE/PEPSI/BUDWEISER MEANS A NEW CROP OF SUPER BOWL ADS. Among the first-time Super Bowl ad purchasers this year are Chipotle and Huggies. Basically, burritos and diapers. Two things that go hand-in-hand when focusing on something like the Super Bowl.

CURT SCHILLING ASKS TO BE REMOVED FROM HOF BALLOT. Everyone's favorite sore loser received 71% on this year's ballot, just shy of the 75% needed. He now claims he wants off the ballot, saying he wants the players to induct him, not the press.

By amazing coincidence, pitcher Dan Haren also opted out of future ballots in a tweet earlier today. Of course, the lifetime 3.50 ERA pitcher admitted he "probably will be told" he will be removed anyway, considering he received 0.0%. I swear that's all true.

By the way, Barry Zito received one vote. One. Vote. Out of about 400 ballots. Who the heck voted for him? Did someone send a ballot to his wife? Or did he pay off Joe Buck? Probably the latter. It would probably just cost Zito a burrito from Chipotle.

ARCHAEOLOGISTS DISCOVER PERFECTLY PRESERVED DINOSAUR ANUS.

Huh-huh, huh-huh.

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*--No, I added that right. Think about it.