Ah, the CandleLight. Where the Schlitz flows like wine

Looking back on my Saturday, I knew there was a lesson buried deep within the events that had transpired. It just took 24 hours and two conference championship games for that lesson to reveal itself.

Let me set the scene... I'm at the Candlelight in suburban Denver -- three beers, two heated Pete Rose debates and one pound of fried cheese appetizer into the night. This is the kind of bar where Schlitz is the standard, the jukebox has everything from Abba to Zevon Warren (you shouldn't be allowed to manufacture a jukebox that doesn't have "Werewolves of London" in it, you really shouldn't), and if you walk in with your shirt tucked in, you're likely to get the same reaction the Delta boys got when they stopped in to see their man Otis Day.

More importantly, it's one of the few places where everyone from the Middle-Upper-Lower class to the Lower-Upper-Middle class can come together to destroy the bathroom, make clumsy, unwanted advances, and feel better about themselves by beating the tar out of some drunken Irishmen in Foosball.

This night, Max and I are dominating the table and we've just finished off our third straight shellacking of some Radio Shack employee-of-the month candidates and the line of quarters of potential victims is growing by the moment. Just then, Max gives me a tap on the shoulder, a head nod to the front door, and a "check this out" look. Walking through the front door is the kind of guy that you will inevitably find at any cover-less locals bar.

He's alone. He's wearing a suit. On a Saturday night. At midnight.

But not just any suit -- this suit couldn't have been manufactured any later than the Reagan administration. If I'm not mistaken, it was the same suit Eric Stoltz wore on his big date with Lea Thompson in the John Hughes classic "Some Kind of Wonderful." It gets better... He's got hair like Barry Melrose, and around his waist is a Fanny Pack. I swear I'm not making this up. A Fanny Pack. And boots. Big, Timberland style boots. I know this shouldn't be funny to me, but hey, neither should "Full House."

We can't help but stare as he saunters over to the Foosball table -- prior to even ordering a drink -- and places down three quarters. As he turns and walks away, bets are immediately taken as to the nature of the event that necessitated the wearing of the suit and with much more potentially disturbing possibilities, the contents of the Fanny Pack.

Our laughter quelled and our egos lifted, Max and I go back to the methodical dispatching of our opponents. Two beers later, it's you-know-who's time to step up and take his medicine. Still flying solo, he grabs one of the stiffs we've just beaten, and proceeds to do something I've never seen before.

He takes off his boots... to play Foosball.

Max and I are speechless, not to mention partially blinded by the glare emanating from the white tube socks that are now his only means of traction. As my teammate and I share a "lets get this over with before he reaches into that Fanny Pack" look, the first ball is dropped. Before we're three quarters of the way through the Johnny Cash "Nine Inch Nails" cover, Suit Man has taken us behind the woodshed with what was easily the most impressive performance in the annals of the great game of Foos. 10-to-freaking-3!

He was magical. I swear, if it's possible for 11 guys adhered to steel rods to look like the 1978 Dutch soccer team, he made it happen. I take solace solely in the fact that Suit Man will not leave that table the entire night, and he will remain bootless until 2 a.m.

As I slink away from the table, I suspect there is knowledge to be gained from the experience, and it has nothing to do with the contents of one very shady Fanny Pack.

Fast forward to Sunday... I'm aware that I wrote in my last post that New England was a "must bet," but that was credited to a strict adherence to the rules of gambling. In my heart, I look at the two teams in warm-ups and simply can't find a way that the Patriots will represent the AFC in Super Bowl XVIII.

Seriously... would you rather have Marvin Harrison and Edgerrin James or David Givens and Kevin Faulk? Peyton Manning, the golden-armed heir to the Hall of Fame legacy of his father Archie, or Tom Brady, who even his most ardent supporters can only seem to laud as "efficient" and "methodical" and who I let sit on my bench the entire season in Fantasy Football? Sorry, but this is a no-brainer from an aesthetic perspective.

Even a look at their coaches makes you a Colts fan. While Patriots coach Bill Belichick looks resplendent in his gray hooded Old Navy sweatshirt, he doesn't quite scream "class" and instill the same sense of confidence as Colts coach Tony Dungy.

Credibility on this web site be damned, I LOVE THE COLTS IN THIS GAME!

Until it starts.

A beauty to behold during warm-ups, the Colts are apparently the beneficiaries of the football equivalent of what we like to call the Candle-LIGHT, a remarkable phenomenon in which seemingly beautiful objects take on a much less appealing appearance upon closer inspection. Manning is dead set on undoing his two week run of brilliance just as quickly as humanly possible-throwing balls into the ground, taking sack after sack, and single-handedly renegotiating Ty Law's contract. Harrison, it seems, has decided to take the day off. Somewhere Keyshawn Johnson feels vindicated.

The Colts defense looks like it hit the Chiefs up for advice before catching their flight out of K.C. (Wasn't Tony Dungy a defensive coordinator? Did he get all his plays stolen by John Gruden when he left Tampa Bay like the Fonz in "The Waterboy?")

The Patriots, on the other hand, are breathtaking. (Did I just write breathtaking?) Brady stands back there -- surveying receivers, winking at groupies, thanking God he's not Drew Bledsoe -- and when the mood strikes him, throwing to one of his five open receivers. He is, no question about it, a brilliant quarterback. I am still waiting for him to make one, just one, of those Brett Favre "what the hell were you thinking?" decisions.

Despite ramblings to the contrary from my roommate, the lone Patriots fan that thinks Brady "isn't much of a leader," he is the closest thing to Joe Montana I have ever seen. Antowain Smith runs for 100 yards, or roughly 96 more than his entire regular season. The Patriots defense is everywhere, intercepting Manning four times. They nearly decapitate Reggie Wayne. Brandon Stokely makes like Leon from the Bud Light commercial and takes a seat on the bench, lest he get killed.

As the final seconds click away, I find myself hoping that fans all across the country have had the same moment of clarity that I have. This Patriots team, despite their lack of stars and a coach who looks like a runway model for Mugatu's Derelicte ensemble, are the greatest team the NFL has seen since the Cowboy dynasty of the early '90s.

Forty-five minutes and one Chipoltle Burrito later... I strap in to watch Carolina-Philadelphia.

I feel the urge to go online and throw everything I have on the early line for the Super Bowl. After watching New England, it really doesn't matter which of these two teams move on. Remembering that I haven't worked in nearly ninve months, I think better of it, and decide I'll just pick the Pats on this web site. I get the same satisfaction of being right without the threat of defaulting on my student loans.

The Linc is going crazy, but I know right away the Eagles are done, and not just because I told the world to play Carolina in my last post. The Panthers, even more bland and nameless than the Patriots, are pushing Philly all over the field. The Eagles can't run on the Carolina front four, their wideouts quit halfway through their routes more often then Terry Glenn, and Donovan McNabb just got drilled by Mike Rucker, Kris Jenkins, Julius Peppers, and I think Sam Mills on the last play. This leads to what have to be the most depressing words uttered over a home stadiums loudspeaker during the course of a conference championship game... "Now entering the game for Philadelphia, No. 10, Koy Detmer."

At halftime, even though it's 7-3 Carolina, it is all over but the shouting. Even the "Peoples Champion," Freddie Mitchell, can't seem to spark the Philly offense. (Question: How can you call yourself the "Peoples Champion" when, during your press conference last Monday, you stressed the need to "stay humble" while wearing a mink coat so lavish it can also be seen on Huggy Bear in the new Ben Stiller-Owen Wilson "Starsky and Hutch" flick?)

One McNabb pick and Deshaun Foster TD run later, all that remains is for Detmer to remind the world which Detmer won the Heisman. (Hint: It wasn't Koy.) Jake Delhomme. Mushin Muhammed. Steve Smith. It may not be Kurt Warner, Marshall Faulk and Issac Bruce, but they're moving on to meet their doppelganger in what has to be the only Super Bowl where they may just skip the pre-game introductions. The rumors begin immediately that the game may not be televised, but rather replaced by a stirring episode of "The Simple Life" -- you know, the one where Paris and Nicole act like spoiled, obnoxious brats and feel like everything they're asked to do is beneath them.

As the clock winds down on the Eagles season, and the hopes of dreams of my girlfriend's family are put on hold for another year, one image reverberates in my mind.

Suit Man.

You see, Suit Man is the Patriots and the Panthers wrapped up into one hilariously coifed bar patron. He didn't look pretty. He didn't command respect or concern himself with what everyone else thought about him. He just went about his business and kicked the living crap out of whoever got in his way.

Max and I fooled ourselves into believing that because we walked into the bar looking like Abercrombie and Fitch, we somehow had an inherent advantage over the guy in the tube socks and Fanny Pack. However, just like Manning and the Colts and McNabb and the Eagles found out against the Pats and the Panthers, appearances and style points don't mean a thing.

Once again, the bar has taught us what the library never could.

A Random Thought... On Saturday, I had the luxury of watching NCAA basketball. First, Duke-Wake Forest in the morning, immediately followed by NC-Connecticut. (Best game of the early season by the way) In the first game, Duke freshman Loul Deng was the best player on the floor. In the late game, UConn freshman Charlie Villaneuva blew me away with his length and athleticism. They were easily two of the top five freshmen I have seen this year, but that is not all they have in common. Seems they both graduated from the Blair Academy in my home state of New Jersey last year.

Now here's what I don't get. Despite having two of the top five players in the country last year, they didn't even win the PREP SCHOOL STATE CHAMPIONSHIP, losing the final 55-53 to the Hun School. Now the Hun School, while a leader in generating future white-collar criminals, is not exactly known for its basketball program. My question is this -- How freaking bad were the other three guys on that Blair team?

Seriously... Lebron James won a NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP with a bunch of guys that couldn't get recruited by Ursinus last year! You saw Hoosiers, right? Jimmy Chitwood led the tiny Hickory Huskers to an all-class Indiana state championship in 1954, and all he had to pass to were Buddy, Strap, Merle and Ollie. Ollie shot foul shots underhanded for Pete's sake! How can you have two of the five best high school players in the country on your team and lose three games against teams unranked in their state? Somebody please answer this for me.

It begins

AFC Championship: Indianapolis Colts (+3) at New England Patriots

The past: Thanks to DirecTV, I have watched the Patriots just enough to wonder how they managed to win 14 games with no running game and a wide receiver trio of David Givens, Deion Branch and Troy Brown.

Obviously, their Bill Belichick devised defensive schemes, which allowed the fewest points in the NFL this season, and only 36 in their last seven home games, including last weeks 17-14 win over Tennessee, right?

Well, then, how do you explain these results -- all wins: 38-30 against Tennessee during the regular season, 30-26 at Denver, and most pertinent to this weekend, 38-34 at Indianapolis?

The truth is, this team can do whatever it takes to win games, and their Nov. 30 upset of the Colts typifies their resourcefulness.

They can win ugly when the defense is playing well, and on the rare occasion they do not, can take their "wouldn't start them on my fantasy team" skill position players into a dome stadium and win a shoot-out with the best offense in football.

In that win over the Colts, the Patriots, on the strength of two Mike Cloud TD runs (Mike Cloud? Are you serious?) and two backbreaking kickoff returns by rookie wide receiver Bethel Johnson, held off a furious Manning-led rally when Willie McGinest stuffed Edgerrin James on fourth and one on the final play of the game.

It was this game that finally, after weeks of denial and talk of "smoke and mirrors" on my radio show, made me realize just how special this Patriots team is.

The present: The Colts storm into Gillette Stadium riding a two-week stretch of offensive precision, the likes of which I haven't seen since my girlfriend's five-year old nephew discovered I couldn't cover Terrell Owens on the out-and-up in NFL Live 2004.

Zero punts. Seventy-nine points in two games.

The second win came against a Kansas City team that had won 13 straight at home, single-handedly destroying the notion that a "finesse" dome team can't win on the road come January.

To put it simply, Peyton Manning and the Colts offense has been so prolific, they have spurred cries of "Brandon Stokely's still in the league?" from football fans everywhere.

Despite the loss in November, there were many positives the Colts could take away from that game.

They moved the ball at will in the second half, and Manning, who it has been said can't solve a Belichick defense, threw for 288 yards and four TDs.

Add in the fact that Indy views those two long kickoff returns as one-game anomalies and the confidence that comes from their recent play, and you get a team that believes they can come to Gillette Stadium and win on Sunday.

The Patriots, thanks to the "Peyton Manning is in a Zone" headlines dominating newspapers everywhere, still find themselves safely removed from the spotlight, despite a 13 game win streak that ranks second in NFL history only to the 1972 Miami Dolphins.

They win at home, they win on the road, they win 12-0, and they win 38-34. It has been as impressive a run through a very difficult NFL schedule as I can remember, going 7-0 against teams above .500 and 5-0 against playoff teams.

By Sunday, Belichick will have cooked up some new looks to slow down Manning- Stokely (and if he has time, Manning-Harrison), and will sleep secure in the knowledge that the USC Trojans could hang 27 points on the Colts defense.

The Patriots will be ready, the crowd will be raucous, and the temperature will be, as they say in that part of the country, "wicked cold."

The future: So what does it all mean for this Sunday?

From a point spread perspective, absolutely nothing. The Patriots are the most clear cut example of what the gambling industry refers to as a "must play."

Here is a team that has not one, but TWO, 13 game win streaks (one home, one overall), went 13-2-1 against the spread this year, hasn't lost to a team with a winning record, and has given up an AVERAGE of five points per game at home over the last seven.

They have a quarterback in Tom Brady who is undefeated in the playoffs, overtime, and even college bowl games, and simply does not turn the ball over at home.

They have been at home for three straight weeks, with a week off after the regular season to get healthy.

They have done nothing, either defensively or offensively to suggest that they are struggling.

Despite all of this, they are only a field goal favorite, and Vegas gives a team three points just for playing at home.

You simply have to play the Patriots here, whether they're playing the Colts or 1985 Bears.

The numbers are too heavily in your favor, and the intangibles are, at worst, a push.

New England 27, Indianapolis 21

NFC Championships: Carolina Panthers (+4) at Philadelphia Eagles

The past: Even in today's NFL, where every August experts try to find the surprise team to follow in the footsteps of the '99 Rams, '00 Ravens and '01 Patriots, nobody thought the Carolina Panthers could get out of the NFC South, let alone be one of the last four teams standing.

Just two years removed from a 1-15 season, John Fox has led his squad to an 11-5 record during the regular season, sandwiching a 5-0 start and 3-0 finish around a 3-5 stumble that included a 25-16 loss to the Eagles on November 30.

They run the ball and stop the run, a formula that has allowed them to keep games close; in fact, they are an astounding 7-0 in games decided by three points or less.

Against the Eagles in that first meeting, the Panthers ran into a Philadelphia team that was, at the time, playing the best football in the league.

Riding an eight game winning streak after an 0-2 start that featured the demise of Rush Limbaugh, the Eagles escaped from Carolina thanks to the well chronicled incompetence of John Kasay, who missed three field goals and an extra point.

The present: The week after the Philadelphia game, Carolina lost to Atlanta in the Michael Vick 2003 coming-out party.

They have not lost since, running off five straight, including a "perfect game" (no penalties or turnovers) in a 29-10 win over the Cowboys in the opening round of the playoffs and last week's double overtime 29-23 thriller in St. Louis when Mike Martz cemented his status as the worst in-game coach in the NFL.

Like the Patriots, it is easy to believe this Carolina team wins game with defense and simply asks its offense to stay out of the way.

That fallacy, however, is revealed with a look at the last three games in which the Panthers have hung up 37, 29, and 29 points, with Jake Delhomme and Steve Smith blossoming before our very eyes. The Eagles team that will take the field this Sunday is a shell of the team that ran off nine straight wins during the regular season.

Brian Westbrook, the burgeoning star running back who ripped the Panthers for 96 all-purpose yards in the first meeting, is on the shelf for the remainder of the postseason.

Linebacker Carlos Emmons, the Eagles best defender all year, is also out for this match-up, meaning the task of stopping the Carolina rushing attack could prove even more difficult than it was in November.

The future: Unlike the Colts-New England game, there is not a "must bet" side in this game.

A close look at the line movement, however, can sometimes be extremely revealing.

In this case, the Eagles opened as 5.5 point favorites.

Despite the fact that Philadelphia is the larger market, with a much larger fan base, the line has moved 1.5 points since Monday in Carolinas favor, meaning that neutral bettors everywhere are playing the underdog, and with good reason.

Philadelphia has struggled at home all season, finishing 5-3, and in their last two games at the Linc has given up an amazing 416 yards rushing.

Carolina is rolling, offensively and defensively, and will keep the game close with their ability to run on the porous Eagles front seven.

Philadelphia will have to resort to the air to move the ball, and this is where they are least comfortable.

I can't believe I'm writing this, but by the time Sunday night rolls around, Carolina will have completed an incredible two-year transformation from 1-15 to Super Bowl team.

Carolina 23 Philadelphia 20

10 Things I've Learned Since Sunday

10. One of the funniest things going in the world of sports right now is watching Darius Miles, he of the 9.2 points and 24.7 minutes per game, continuing to do the "pulling out the antennas" bit, even when he dunks on Fred Hoiberg with the Cavs down 19.

9. Having watched every team in the NCAA Top 25 play at least once this year, I can honestly say I have not seen a better performance than the one Stanford put on last Saturday at Arizona. They simply do not give up an easy bucket, and their offense is surprisingly athletic for a school with a 1300 SAT requirement. I can't imagine them not making it to the Elite 8 come March.

8. Speaking of Arizona, if you haven't seen Hassan Adams play yet, make it a point to do so. He is 6'3" in his bare feet, yet playing power forward for the 8th ranked Wildcats. He is, and I didn't think I would ever say this, a better pure athlete then former Wildcat Richard Jefferson.

7. You know that scene in The Color of Money where Steve Mizerak, having just been run off the table by Fast Eddie Felson in the opening round of the Vegas nine-ball tournament, turns to Felson and says, "I didn't deserve that?" To which Felson, after a brief pause, responds, "Yes, you did!" I have a feeling someone will be having that exact conversation with Ivan "Pudge" Rodriguez in about six months, when the Detroit Tigers, whom Pudge is reportedly close to signing with, is officially eliminated from the pennant race.

6. Correct me if I'm wrong, but Arrested Development is the best non-Simpsons show on television -- hands down. The writing is genius and the characters are hilariously well evolved. Unfortunately, it has been receiving rave reviews from critics, which means it should be going the way of The Family Guy and week now.

5. Kevin Brown and Javier Vasquez will out-win Roger Clemens and Andy Petite in 2004.

4. In reference to #8, above, I would gladly plunk down $49.95 to watch Hassan Adams and Georgia Tech swing man Isma'il Muhammad in a Slam-Dunk contest on Pay-Per-View.

3. Kobe Bryant getting injured should surprise no one. Whether you want to blame it on the off-season surgery or the arrest-induced stress, Bryant came into the season built like an X-Ray. It was only a matter of time.

2. Why would anyone hire the Steelers offensive coordinator to coach their team? What were they, the '98 Vikings? They looked like a high school team offensively this year, with Tommy Maddox and Plaxico Burress regressing in a big way.

1. I have only seen 45 seconds of this Jayson Williams interview regarding his impending manslaughter trial, and I am already annoyed. After watching he and his wife sob and tell the world what a "great guy" Jayson is, I was left with this thought -- since when are being a "great guy" and committing a crime mutually exclusive options? Can't he be a great guy who just so happens to enjoy guns and alcohol to an unhealthy degree, as testimony from friends and teammates seems to indicate?