In 1972, Franco Harris made the now-famous Immaculate Reception in an AFC playoff game against the Oakland Raiders. And, you know, we really need a name like that to describe what David Tyree did in the fourth quarter of Sunday's Super Bowl game, 3rd and 5 on the 44 with 1:15 left. Was there anybody sitting down on that play? I mean, that catch — hell, the entire drive — just begs to be immortalized with some clever title ripe with miraculous and/or religious undertones. And I've been racking my brain since Sunday trying to think of one, but I've got nothing. All I can think of are bad puns about how Tyree was really "using his head" or how he did a great job of "keeping his head in the game." No, no, no. That's all wrong.

How about . . . Immaculate Reception, Deux? Crap.

Speaking of reception, C and I went all old-school for The Big Game. We watched it — get this — over the airwaves. Because we still lack the Fios. (It's supposed to come tomorrow, but I've heard from our neighbors not to get our hopes up). Anyway, we had planned on going to a bar to watch it and be surrounded by Giants fans. But we were torn because, while that sounded like a lot of fun, we also wanted to see (and hear) the commercials and when you're in a bar, you tend to lose that ability to ambient noise. You also wind up missing crucial moments in history that can occur in a split second. I learned that lesson the hard way a couple of years back with Janet's boob. And let me just say that damn, that Etrade baby cracked me up. So it was all worth it.

So if I remembered my history correctly, we actually had television signals all around us, we just needed a way to turn those signals into a discernible picture on our set. What we needed was that relic of TV communications known as the "rabbit ears." Luckily we had a set, which I had been keeping in my plastic bin of wires for a special occasion such as this. So we got them out. And we stood there, staring at these strange things in my hands, trying to remember what we were supposed to do with them, again. Did we have to plug them into something or did we just put them near the television set and wait? Were we supposed to pray before using them? Should we get out the aluminum foil? We had so many questions.

We played around with the positioning of the rabbit ears (which really look nothing like the ears of rabbits) for a while, doing that dance our fathers did, and their fathers before them. Rabbit ears have such a rich cultural history. I tried standing on one leg, then I held one end of the antennae while pointing to the ceiling with my free hand. There was still a fair amount of snow. C suggested I try it naked, but I was really skeptical that would work. Finally, we found a placement that allowed us to get two channels: NBC and Fox. And of the two, Fox came in the best. In fact, it actually came in better than our Cable-supplied CBS channel in Baltimore, something which had always been a bit of a sore spot for us.

So great, we had Fox. Now we could watch . . . House. But aside from that, who cared? We figured the Super Bowl would be on NBC. And while that channel came in, it certainly wasn't at all purty. Oh well. It would just be part of the experience. We would just pretend it was snowing. Indoors. In Arizona. It would surely put a test to our imaginations. Why did Fox have to be the good channel, anyway? Of all the bloody channels. Then we realized we didn't actually know which channel The Game would be on. Hell, it might be on ABC, which didn't come in at all. So we checked to verify the broadcast station and, well, did I mention things are just kind of clicking here in Jersey? I've never been so happy to watch Fox. Ever.

So we watched the Super Bowl, with damn decent reception, over a set of rabbit ears that had been buried away in a plastic container for years, waiting for this one chance to shine.

And it was glorious.

We watched all the commercials. In part because we wanted to, but also because we lacked a Tivo "Pause" button. When we needed food, we went one at a time so that the other person could tell the one getting food if they were missing something.

And look, I'm not one to gloat about victories, okay? Particularly when it comes to a team which has only recently become my "home team." But when I watched Eli make that final drive down the field, it did generate a few of the warm and fuzzies inside me, I have to admit. And I'm just real sorry there, Pats . . . 18-1 just doesn't have the same ring to it, does it?

So it's a day of celebrations, not just in New Jersey and New York but all over the states. Because it's also Super Tuesday (which is sweet, sweet nectar for political junkies among us — show me your Roll Call) and Mardi Gras (which is sweet, sweet nectar for the cocktail-inclined among us — show me your flask).

Oh, and yes, today is celebratory for one more reason . . . Happy Birthday, C!

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