Clydsdales pulling trains, dancing lizards, killer pigeons, and a Giants victory, the Super Bowl was packed with great commercials and down to the wire excitement. But after yesterday’s game, nothing made me happier then to know that John Madden survived another football season.

John Madden is seventy-two years old and must weigh close to four-hundred pounds. And at the start to every season, I think to myself this is going to be it. This is going to be the year where Madden has a coronary and drops dead right in the middle of the broadcast.

And I don’t want to see that happen. I like Madden. He’s the only sports announcer I know who can segway from a conversation about Brian Urlacher and the Bears into a detailed explanation of why Chicago has the best deep dish pizza.

Now, I’m not a doctor but I have to imagine at that weight and age, he’s got to have some serious health problems.

Isn’t there something Nutrisystem can do for him? They managed to get Chris Carter, Dan Marino, and Coach Shulla to shed the pounds, I don’t know why they can’t just send Madden a couple of meals.

Fuck, if I had his address I’d send them to him myself just so I don’t have to spend the entire next season holding my breath, praying that Madden survives.

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