Fine, I Guess I'll Acknowledge Super Bowl XLVIII

from blog.johnnyvy.com

So...close...again

So I guess the football season isn't actually over yet. I hear the Denver Broncos and Seattle Seahawks are playing in Super Bowl 48 or something tomorrow. Whatever. I guess I'll do my pick. Sigh...

DENVER (-2) over Seattle

Denver is technically the home team so they get the capslock treatment this weekend. I'm picking them because I want them to win, and because I don't have the energy, motivation or desire to attempt a full-fledged analysis of this game. I hate the Seahawks. I hate Pete Carroll, I hate Russell Wilson, I hate Bobby Wagner, I hate Earl Thomas, I hate Russell Okung and Breno Giacomini, I hate Cliff Avril, I hate Brandon Mebane, I hate Kam Chancellor. I hate that I can't hate Marshawn Lynch. I really, really hate Richard Sherman. Fuck that guy. Fuck him. 

This is how I envision this game going:

The Seahawks win the toss and elect to defer (being confident assholes and daring Peyton Manning to take the ball first and score on them). Peyton proceeds to throw a pick-6 to Richard Sherman after a 1st and 10 run up the middle for 2 yards. Sherman sniffs out the quick screen to Demaryius Thomas from a bunch formation and just takes it to the house.

The crowd goes wild. Pete Carroll is jumping up and down on the sideline like a giddy schoolgirl that just caught a peek of Justin Bieber's happy trail and Richard Sherman has his Busta Rhymes face on (fig. 1). He then turns to Peyton Manning and makes his choking sign (fig. 2).

from nextimpulsesports.com

Fig. 1

from larrybrownsports.com

Fig. 2

Peyton Manning just goes eye-of-the-fucking-tiger after this. I'm talking Popeye after some spinach transformation. He was just disrespected by a young, brash, loud-mouthed ass. He can hear all the talk already, "Peyton isn't a big game QB...He can't handle the cold weather..." 

He walks to the sideline, doesn't even take his helmet off, doesn't say a word to anyone. Just stares at Richard Sherman and the raucous Seahawks sideline, thinking I am Peyton motherfucking Manning.

He then proceeds to just unleash a torrent of well-timed passes and masterful run-checks at the line of scrimmage upon the Seahawks. They have no answer. He tosses five touchdowns en route to seven straight scoring drives. 

Marshawn Lynch can't get past the behemoth duo of an angry Terrance Knighton and Sylvester Williams. The game is on Russell Wilson's shoulders and he plays admirably, but just can't even hold a candle to Peyton. His receivers drop passes on third down and as the game gets further out of reach the offense stalls more and more frequently. 

They only score the single defensive touchdown on the opening possession, a TD that only yields 6 points because the Broncos block the Rodger-Goodell-thinks-they're-so-easy-they-should-be-abolished-PAT and Steven Hauschka is injured on the play, leaving the Seahawks in the cold without a kicker and without a hope in hell of winning this, or any other Super Bowl. 

SCORE, BRONCOS 45 - SEAHAWKS 6. 

... Three weeks later 42 of 53 players on the Seahawks roster test positive for PEDs and Roger Goodell nullifies the Super Bowl on grounds of cheating. Pete Carroll is fired for encouraging players to take steroids, HGH, adderall and medicinal marijuana. The 49ers are awarded the NFCs berth in the Super Bowl replay and just annihilate the Broncos because Peyton Manning finally took a rest from his absurd football preparations, thinking he just firmly cemented his legacy with a second Super Bowl win. Niners 100, Broncos 0. #QuestForSix.