I’m in San Diego for Super Bowl weekend; Super Bowl XXII.  It’s the Broncos against the Redskins.  The Skins are 4 point underdogs.  I made my bet on the underdogs.  This was due in part to an insane disdain for John Elway.  (I have since made my peace with Elway.) 


I read in a local newspaper all about getting the game scheduled in the city.  They were awfully proud of themselves.  They had a list of businesses that agreed not to price gouge on the unsuspecting fools in town for the game.


I was staying in a cheap motel with no television in the room.  I didn’t need one.  The bathroom was down the hall.  Yeah, it was that type of motel.  The blanket on the bed had a hole in it from a cigarette burn.  That’s particularly uninspiring for a person who doesn’t smoke cigarettes.


I managed to sneak a young co-ed into the room.  She attends San Diego State or some such local college.  She’s reading poems that I wrote on the bus ride in from Los Angeles.  She’s asking questions about the verse that I either can’t or won’t answer.


I’m more pre-occupied with the game.  I have a 2 bill wager riding on the game.  I need a back-up quarterback to go hog wild in order to win.  Now it is starting to look like I’m about to get laid by a young California babe but 2 bills is 2 bills.  And with 2 pictures of Franklin, I can probably go into any club and get laid anyway.


But, of course, I’m already here in this moment.  She’s reading a poem with a pretentious title like “Alphabet of Stars”  or some such shit like that.  She’s seems to be buying it hook, line and sinker.  Well, I start thinking that whatever happens here will have no bearing on the outcome of the game—and it sure as hell might cushion the blow if I do lose. . .



Author's Notes/Comments: 

written in the early 90's a couple years after the game was played.  I was a winner that weekend.

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allets's picture


Belatedly. :)



georgeschaefer's picture

It was a good weekend

It was a good weekend