Briefly

It's over.

I predicted Chicago would cover the spread. All the odds makers agreed that statistically the game should have been decided by seven points. So, if you bet money on Chicago – spread or no spread – you lost your ass.

Speaking of which, my Mom picked the Colts to win (straight up) based on her assessment that Peyton Manning has the cutest tush in the NFL.

And that takes care of the science portion of todays lesson.

Interestingly, the game should have been every football fan's dream. The most touted aspects of each team's game spent most of the game mugging for the cameras. Indy's offense and Chicago's defense spent most of the game on the field.

As a football fan, I have only one dream (beyond the Seahawks bringing home the Vince Lombardi Trophy):

Boys: stop with those constant girly-man little dances every time you do the job you're getting paid to do. When a football player does a little dance after a tackle, it's like an auto mechanic celebrating when he figures out how to open the hood. Knowledgeable onlookers start to wonder if you really have done this before.

Okay, you sacked the quarterback. Yippee. Save the calories you were going to expend mincing around like an eleven-year-old girl at her first dance. Spend those calories tackling somebody else. That's what you do for a living. For crying out loud.

I just have to laugh when you do the nanny-nanny-boo-boo dance after every minor success, "Hey everybody! Look at me. I finally did what they pay me to do," and then go on to lose the game. Wankers. It's pathetic enough when you neener-neener-neener after a touchdown; but dancing around like you're waiting for the men's room key after sacking the quarterback is just lame.

Try. Please try to look like grown men out there. I noticed very little of that kind of silly crap from the Chicago Bears, and none of it from Indianapolis Colts today. Coincidence? I think not.

Note to the lawyers: I did not mention Chad Brown or Shawn Merriman by name.