Baseball is my game. There is nothing finer than the World Series. The NBA finals are second.
Football holds less interest as I age. So it is with some amount of disinterest and idle curiosity that I decided to watch the Super Bowl yesterday. I was rooting for the Saints.
This was a perfect game. It had everything. A storybook Cinderella team representing a broken city hoping for a symbol of resurrection. And a great quarterback from the opposing team who had everything.
I have always maintained that a truly great team is defined by this Trinity: a great owner, a great coach, and a great quarterback. For one afternoon, the Saints found this.
Championship games are defined not only by the greatness, courage and persistence of the players but by the genius and wiliness of the coach. Great plays are called by the coach. Bill Walsh used to call the first 16 plays of each game, according to his playbook. So the third quarter onside kick will be remembered for years. Genius. And courage.
This had the requisite suspense, back-and-forth momentum. It was never a blowout. The outcome was in doubt until the very end.
Baltimore suffered from a rookie coach. Only one rookie coach has ever won the Super Bowl– George Seifert — with the help of Joe Montana.
New Orleans had not only heart but genius. A storybook ending. A great game.