I am a Giants fan, but I'm also fascinated by the human condition, and I happen to think nothing is more fascinating than a million people brought together by nothing more than a football team and the rare socially acceptable opportunity to get drunk before breakfast. It was with this in mind that I set off for Lower…
A reader placed a tiny wager on what color top Reggie Bush's gilrfriend would wear to the Super Bowl. His choice? Black. It appears, in that photo, to be black. He claims Bodog.com would not pay out. Who will die?
Todd C. was at Pat O'Brien's on Bourbon Street and shot some video at game's end that represents the only touching moment in the bar's history that did not involve Rohypnol. He writes in an e-mail:
The bon temps rouler-ed all weekend long in New Orleans, and Mike was there in his bumblebee costume. We're told he's still drunk. Let's pick up his account midstream:
The front gates of Drew Brees' home near Uptown turned into one giant display of heartfelt gratitude for his quarterbacking service to Who Dat Nation. One reader, who lives close by, gave us some pictures. See more after the MORE.
Because no one reads the newspaper, and SportsCenter's anchors are too perky for this early in the morning, Deadspin combs the best of the broadsheets and the blogosphere to bring you everything you need to know to start your day.
New Orleanian Christian Sauska was there, too, and he sends us the following account:
Before the Super Bowl, two versions of this post were already written. One where Peyton Manning becomes the greatest quarterback ever and one where he comes up just short. I didn't expect to write one where he crashes and burns.
In the fourth quarter, after the Saints had pulled ahead 24-17, (I'm told) I ran into Carrollton Ave and stopped a streetcar by standing in front of it and waving my arms...
ESPN let Reilly talk on the television again, and he spoke grandly of "St. Bernard's [sic] Parish" (over B-roll of the Garden District) and the "bars all over the Latin Quarter," which is in Paris. [ESPN]
In sports, everyone is a winner—some people just win better than others. Like the City of New Orleans, which overcame the devastation of blah, blah, blah. When does Mardi Gras start?
Join your frenemies from Deadspin, Gawker and Jezebel for our own little Super Bowl mixer. Football! Commercials! Booze, if you've got it! Play nice with each other, children.
In which the columnist attempts to board the Love Bus, mentions in passing that he went to Luther Campbell's wedding, watches as Bryant McKinnie drops 20 large on champagne, and generally makes you feel like you're watching a Fellini movie.
The headline on ESPN.com is "Papa John's founder John Schnatter feeds me pizza." Then things get really stupid.
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