If you have read the title of this short, but brilliant, piece of work then you will understand why I am putting out a post to you today instead of on my customary day of Monday.

As most of you know, if not the majority of those living in the western hemisphere, I love Football. I love the games, I love the playoffs, but I love the most is Super Bowl Sunday. In the Nickels household, Super Bowl Sunday is just about on the same level as Christmas and Thanksgiving in terms of celebration and remembrance.

From all of the reports I’ve been reading over the past couple of days, it was a fantastic game. In fact, I found one very interesting tidbit about the game that is different than in all of the previous Super Bowl’s combined: The Patriots never led in this game until they won it. I heard there were some amazing plays on both sides of the offensive and defensive lines of the ball. It had all of the drama a hardcore football fan, like me, could ever ask for in a Super Bowl. Again, I heard it was a fantastic game.

And why did I HEAR after the fact that it was a fantastic game instead of SEEING this fantastic game while it was in process? Because I was sick! I was in my bedroom too sick to do much of anything except sleep. I didn’t even go to church that day, even though the entire congregation will think I skipped church to attend a Super Bowl party, I really was home sick.

But I did have friends who were texting me, continually, with updates on what the score was and how bad the Patriots were playing. See, all my friends took the Falcons while I took the Patriots. These guys were texting me the scores not out of the goodness of their hearts, but because we had dinner bets on this game. They wanted to make me squirm. They wanted me to start to freak out how big the dinner tabs were going to be because the Falcons were crushing the Patriots. I had people starting to send me links to the restaurants they wanted to go to for dinner because they were so sure the Falcons were going to win.

I had people sending me screen shots when the Falcons were up 28 to 3 with captions like “I think we’ll start out with a steak appetizer…” well, you get the idea. Now, just imagine me trying to sleep and get well with my phone going off every 10 minutes or so with people trying to rub salt into my open wound. Yes, these are my friends. Yes, they knew I was sicker than a dog. Yes, these are the same guys that when if you go surfing with them that if they see a shark nearby they have no problem stabbing a buddy and swimming for shore. Yes, these are my friends.

But then, something amazing started to happen: The Patriots were catching up. The next thing I remember after coming out of another brief nap was a text that said the Pats were down by 8 marching down the field with less than 2 minutes left. Then I fell asleep again. I told you I was sick.

I woke up a couple of hours later with my phone full of text messages all saying the same thing: “Where do you want to go to dinner?”

There is an old Klingon adage that says: “Revenge is a dish best served cold.”

As for me, I prefer my revenge to be a huge, sizzling,  porterhouse steak cooked medium with a side of sautéed mushrooms, baked potato with sour cream & butter, with something cold and refreshing to drink to be followed by half the dessert card.

All I have to say is “Thank you, Patriots, for such a great game and Bon Appetit.’