I will:
Football, I was wrong about you. After all the bad things I said about you this year, all your dirty tricks, your lackluster games, your over-stuffed egos, your exorbitant lifestyle and shameless goodwill-mongering, your skanking around with Sports Illustrated and ESPN, your denial-laden relationship with HGH and other performance-enhancing drugs, you proved me wrong. You brought out a great Superbowl, and gave me a delicious Patriots' defeat that I will savor for many, many years. I'd like to make you breakfast sometime, football. With pancakes. The syrup would be Tom Brady's tears. And afterwords, I would hand-feed you strawberries coated in Junior Seau's crushing disappointment, and a little bit of mint. But since I can't do any of that: I'll just say I'm sorry.
P.S. Your "Pro-Bowl" is still stupid and useless.
