SuperBowl 36 Every year Phil goes to the big one. Every year he phones me from the game, or from a restaurant where he's sitting next to Tony Dungy, or from where he's standing next to the Madden Cruiser. You get the picture. But Phil's trips are more than just going to the game. This is a thankfully short but still nauseating piece on a week at SuperBowl XXXVI in New Orleans. The security arrangements introduced by the NFL for SuperBowl XXXVI after September 11th, meant that a lot of the media and fan events that usually take place at SuperBowls were not there this year. However, that's not going to stop me having as good a time as possible, and it was so good this year, that I didn't even have time to phone Paul or Tony to annoy them about being there! I guess the pick of this year's exploits, has to be getting into Jerome Bettis' private SuperBowl party. There were about 500 people there, 490 black and 10 white. It was like Custer's last stand with all the white guys huddled together in a corner. In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought I'd start circulating. I started talking to who I thought was Kordell Stewart, and only found out after about five minites of calling him Kordell, that it was Plaxico Burress. He's a great guy and we got on really well when I started taking the mickey out of the black fashion sense in the room and that they were all trying to look cool wearing dark glasses in a dark room. Thanks to a friend of Jerome's, I got myself into the "private-private" party for about 30 out the back and soon bumped into Plaxico again who couldn't believe how I got in. Another 20 minutes talking and laughing with him and I was well on my way. The Bus was a good guy and is a real party animal. Another Steeler player I bumped into was lineman Earl Holmes who insisted on shaking my hand. I think there's about one bone in there he didn't break - ouch! Anyway, cut a long story short, I left at 2am, pissed as a rat and somehow got through all the worst streets in New Orleans back to my hotel without getting mugged, propositioned or both. The NFL Experience still took place and this is where the players present are on their best behaviour and will sign anything. Unfortunately some of the Brits who go to the SuperBowl haven't quite figured this out yet, and you still see some right twats annoying players with bits of paper for signing, while they're trying to have a meal or a private conversation. Some of the players I met there were Antowain Smith, Tim Brown, Michael Vick (told him how much Paul worships him for his fantasy team!), Tim Couch (now a nice bloke after being an asshole two years ago), Az-zahir Hakim, Ricky Proehl (forgot to mention how he's banned from the Fantasy League of course), William Perry, Jevon Kearse (again), Karl Mecklenberg (who's definitely found God or vice versa), Daunte Culpepper and Byron Chamberlain. Also ended up seeing Kevin Greene again, by far the winner of the best dressed person at this year's SuperBowl award. The NFL had started a new event, auctioning off real-worn game shirts, signed by the player in question, and DNA-authenticated to prevent forgery. Daunte Culpepper had a shirt on offer and I thought I'd have that. $3,000 later, it was mine! The guy from the NFL promised to stop by my hotel later that evening to drop everything off. He's supposed to be there at seven, he shows up at eight, by which time I've been propositioned twice, once by each sex. He rolls in with my signed shirt, and leaves about four hours later having shared about two dozen beers. "Any time you need tickets" he slurs. "Come and see me". Sorted! One of the best stories that came out of that was the day two of the prats who ran the Monarchs 2000 campaign went to New York to try and convince the NFL to bring the Monarchs back to London. They couldn't get in the building and had to resort to talking through a letter box to a securitu guard. Apparently most of the NFL staff had been warned these twats were on their way and were laughing their socks off at them out of the window. The game of course was the upset of all time. Boomer Esiason summed up how all the experts had got it wrong when he simply asked his colleagues on the post-game show what job they were all going to be doing next season. Sterling Sharpe simply decided to pick whichever team's starting QB got hurt in Week 1. Phil Jones February 2002