I think MLK would have become a Steeler fan

(670 words)

I’m guaranteeing the Pittsburgh Steelers are going to beat the hated New England Patriots on Sunday and go on to win the Super Bowl.

Take it to the bank!

And the last time I felt this arrogant about a prediction was Nov. 8 when I assured everyone that on Jan. 20 Americans would be unified in celebration of the landslide election of President Hilary Rodham Clinton.

For what it’s worth.

But I have a good feeling about the Steelers. They haven’t lost since Nov. 13 (it was a bad week for liberal Steeler fans) and are riding a 9-game win streak into Foxboro. They are 5 1/2 point underdogs against the Patriots.

The Steeler dominance upends my custom of artificially rooting for teams based on on cities where I’ve enjoyed getting drunk or ones populated by women who were easy when I was single.

By that standard I used to think I’d one day write a glorious ode about why I was rooting for the Cleveland Browns to win the Super Bowl but it doesn’t look like that’s ever going to happen.

Rooting for Pittsburgh is in my blood. I absolutely love everything about the city. Oddly, it only meets one of my essential criteria for fandom.

Sure, it’s my go-to for drunken revels, something I’ve been doing with reckless abandon (is there any other kind of abandon?) since, oh, the fifth grade.

But all the Pittsburgh debutants I knew when I was single were way too proper and refined for my ambitions. Man, it took me years to find a girl loose enough to even consider letting me kiss her.

Know what I did next?

I married her!

I was 33.

I never kissed a girl from Boston, which is ironic because I feel like I’ve been screwed by people from Boston more than any city on the planet.

The Patriots cheat.

I’m not being rash. My source on this is the Patriots. 

In 2007, coach Bill Belichick agreed to pay a $500,000 fine for Spygate, and Tom Brady dropped his appeals and served a four-game suspension for playing with under-inflated footballs, a phrase bound to induce snickers among those of us with juvenile bents.

Coincidentally, I was recently watching football with my cousin and he predicted pretty boy Brady would be the next celebrity athlete to undergo a sex change operation, ala Bruce/Caitlyn Jenner.

It’s an interesting hypothesis, one that at the very least would silence sports talk radio critics who contend Brady’s been female all along.

As for the NFC, I’m hoping Green Bay wins. I had a splendid time in Wisconsin on a 2009 travel story. I like the people and know they’ll be having fun in Sobelman’s in Milwaukee, a saloon where I’ve never felt more at home for an out-of-stater.

I’ve driven through Atlanta, which given its historic traffic problems is like winning a Super Bowl. But I’ve never socialized there for even a moment — and airports don’t count.

I wrote about Atlanta in ‘14 and how two measly inches of snow turned the entire city into the snowbound Donner Party.

I revere native son Martin Luther King Jr., and he may have become a Falcons fan. Or maybe not. He died young, just 39, in 1968 and was blessed with wisdom and foresight.

Had he lived, I could see him becoming enthralled with the leadership principles of a young Chuck Noll as he led the Steelers to four Super Bowl championships in the ‘70s.

Had King not been murdered, he’d be 88 years old. I like to think he’d have eventually moved to Pittsburgh. I imagine him at a Steeler pep rally smiling and waving a Terrible Towel.

So I’m hoping for all these reasons the Steelers kick the Patriots butts this weekend and go on to win their 7th Super Bowl.

Because the Patriots cheat and the arc of the moral universe is long and bends toward Pittsburgh.

Steelers 35, Patriots 13.

I have a dream.

Related …

Can’t hate the Packers but …

How recollections of good bourbon & horny farm girls influence my NFL picks

Pittsburgh, City of Champions, will win

Flakey thoughts on Atlanta’s snow traffic nightmare

Jump hugs with dangerous drunks

A day of light & darkness; Pens win & mourning Orlando

Greatest American speeches & why mine's better

(931 words)

My darling little 9th grader flattered me by asking me to name which great American speech she should analyze for a class assignment.

I was very pleased.

I register near zero on the provider scale, but she knows she can count on me for intellectual heft. She always sees me reading thick history books, hears me at dinner weighing in on current events and understands the importance of when I talk to her about pivotal moments from our nation’s past.

I revel in the past because I know it enriches the present and presages the future.

She said everyone in class is leaning towards either Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address or the equally monumental MLK “I Have a Dream.”

Both worthy choices, I said, but both are the kind that would cause a fatigued teacher to begin wishing he could master the art of sleeping with his eyes open.

Been there, done that.

What you want, I said, is something that hasn’t been done to death. Lincoln’s 2nd Inaugural — “With malice toward none” — is great for analysis. He delivered it as the Civil War was concluding and chose gracious benevolence over vindictiveness. Plus, in the audience were John Wilkes Booth and five other men who were conspiring to kill him in just five weeks.

MLK’s Selma speech still resonates as a clarion call for dignity and fairness.

Off the top of my head, I mentioned Ronald Reagan’s healing speech that followed the Space Shuttle disaster, FDR’s stirring “Infamy” speech, and George W. Bush’s inspired summons from atop the Twin Towers rubble.

In the end, she opted for President Obama’s great “Amazing Grace” speech following the Charleston church massacre (my contemporary take linked below).

For analytic purposes, it’s fertile ground. 

It’s our first black president giving a healing speech about racial violence in the cradle of the Confederacy. It involves the risky use of song.

But for me, the most interesting aspect of the speech is the silence.

The speech includes nearly 30 seconds where the speaker is speechless. In those seconds, he says “Amazing Grace,” twice, quietly, his eyes downcast. Then he is still and silent for an interminable 14 seconds before haltingly breaking into the world’s most famous and most sung song.

It’s utterly euphoric.

Of course, humility prevented me from advising my daughter about analyzing what to me is now the greatest speech ever delivered.

It was her daddy at State College.

I appreciate how many of you, my friends, are truly rooting for me to succeed.

At something.

Anything!

Especially my darling wife, who right now is hoping I’ll succeed at things like raking leaves.

Wednesday I was the keynote concluding speaker for the Pennsylvania Librarians Association. It was a 4-day affair at the Penn Stater Hotel & Conference Center in State College. There were 250 people there who were mostly tired of talkers and hoping for a lively lift.

Understand, this was just a month after a crucial failure to deliver before Virginia meeting planners in Richmond. I now know that was an aberration I can blame on logistics.

See, I’m still fairly new at this yapping gig. I still have what I call a set list of podium notes I rely on to key my talk, which I’m told comes across as so smooth its seems extemporaneous.

But it threw me in Richmond because there was no mic stand. Given the circumstances, I thought I should try and be Mick Jagger and just forego notes and prowl the stage.

It was a mistake. I foundered.

With this important engagement looming, I dwelt on the failure all month, even as I had two success, one of which included the same situation — no mic stand — that threw me in Richmond.

Maybe, I figured, I needed to really bomb once to understand the stakes, to keep me humble.

Although, if anyone who's read my blog will attest, I’m the most self-deprecating fool on the whole planet.

I really honed my speech in advance, and as I was warmly introduced by a man who is now a buddy and had loved the book, I had some butterflies, sure, but was feeling a confidence just shy of cocky.

I can’t tell you how well it went.

I think it’s because the focus is on the two attributes people everywhere are craving.

Humor and humanity.

I asked the organizer if there was anything I could change to make it better.

“Nothing. Don’t change a word. It’s the perfect keynote address and it’s something everyone should hear.”

She had tears in her eyes as she told me this.

I could sense it was going really well, but I had no idea how well I’d connected until the end.

The whooping ovation lasted more than 30 seconds.

I remember feeling a little startled and thinking, man, this must be what it feels like when you think launching a cult might be feasible.

I should be able to prove it, too. I hope. The camcorder was misplaced and is being mailed, and there’s no guarantee my friend managed to operate it properly. There never is.

It doesn’t matter.

I already have a bunch of great YouTubes and now have a host of prestigious and enthusiastic recommendations. I have two more high profile talks in the next month.

Best of all, I’m now supremely confident in my message and my ability to deliver it with compelling flair.

I now know I can find true success in a lucrative field full of exciting opportunities.

And I’m gonna seize every one of them.

I have a dream.

Related . . .

The prez, the killer and the origins of ‘Amazing Grace’

The deflating results of my ballyhooed Virginia talk

My Saturday speech a surprising sell-out

Mom’s coming to my Lebo book signing

Bar book signing Thursday

“Use All the Crayons!” A 10-star review

Bullies, my ‘stache & insane reaction to my speech