by Barry Murphy
February 3rd, 2008:
I was actually dead sober for Super Bowl 42. To make it worse, one of my best friends and I had money on the Pats. His bet was worse than mine: 1700 to win 400 on the money line…ouch!
Why was I sober you ask? Great question. The night before was Brock Lesnar vs. Frank Mir, and that same friend got me and 2 other guys from home front row seats. It was honestly one of the most exciting nights of my life. Not only were all the WWE guys there, but so were Donald Trump, Jenna Jameson, and Barry Bonds… all three rows BEHIND us. The best celeb sat next to me… his name, is Charles Barkley… no bullshit.
I pride myself as not being starstruck… but Sir Charles is in my all-time foursome. It’s him and Larry Bird in one cart… and me and MJ in the other… all smoking retardedly expensive cigars and sipping Cavasier… telling war stories from our years of being the best at what we do. Anyway, after about 6 Red Bull vodkas, which are on the house by the way, I go, “Hi Charles, I’m a huge fan… of the Bulls.” He smirks. I said how about we put a little wager on the main event. He goes, “Man, I don’t bet.” I go, “C’mon Charles… I’m from Chicago… the stories of you and Jordan betting ten grand on a putt are legendary.” He goes, “Alright man, 20 bucks… and I got the big bastard with the cross tattoo on his chest” (Brock – who sidenote, my ex-girlfriend says she banged in college).
If you recall the fight, Brock is pummeling Mir and the ref jumps in to stop the fight. Charles yells, “Pay me son!!” But wait, the ref was jumping in to stand the fighters up because Brock was illegally punching Mir in the back of the head. Very shortly after that, Mir catches Brock in an ankle lock submission… ballgame. I look at Chuck, he pulls out the 20 and without even looking me, hands it to me and goes, “I’m done with you, motherfucka.” I said, “No problem, great meeting you Chuck.”
For Super Bowl 46, I’ll be drunk, and I’ll be on the right side… Giants 31, Pats 28.