OK with being sports columnist over a Super Bowl quarterback

Well into the fourth quarter of Super Bowl LIV, this grizzled gargoyle of the media was well into Pepperoni Stick XLIII.

(Good stick.)

Sparks were flying from my teeth as San Francisco 49ers quarterback Jimmy Garoppolo launched a bomb in the direction of Emmanuel Sanders, who was open.

The pass landed a few yards beyond Sanders, near the goalline, with 1:40 left in the game and the Kansas City Chiefs leading 24-20. Socia media soon erupted, apoplectic as the keyboardists were about the missed opportunity.

Meanwhile, at the northwest Regina residence of Pat Wagner and Edie Earis, I somehow dislodged a pepperoni stick from my windpipe in time to warble “Garoppolo should a made that ( burp) throw.”

Ahhh, life can be so easy in the critic’s chair.

And it doesn’t even have to be your chair! (Thanks, Pat. Much obliged, Edie.)

Later on, I had a conscience attack — or maybe it was the acid reflux — while reflecting upon my (cue fanfare) Instant Analysis of Garoppolo’s overthrow.

After the Chiefs rallied from a 20-10 fourth-quarter deficit to defeat San Francisco 31-20, Garoppolo’s play was widely dissected, as is to be expected when one performs on such a stage.

For a moment, I felt badly for him — until I realized that he makes US$27.5 million per year, or $36.6 million Cdn.

In order to make in one career what Garoppolo earns in one season, I will have to keep working until the tender age of 456. (Note to self: Cut back on the salt.)

On a brighter note, at least I have an easy job.

As I am composing this sentence, my well-being is not being threatened by a snorting, 300-pound, ill-intentioned behemoth.

If I happen to make a mitsake — oops! — I can simply erase it. Who’s to know?

Nobody is watching me type. (Hold on. Why is that humourless gentleman from human resources hovering around my desk?)

If I am afflicted with writer’s block, I can sit back, marvel at the stylish ceiling tiles, and ponder the content of the column until — eureka! — I am suitably inspired.

(Repeat: Good stick!)

As I write this, changing the world in the process, it is late afternoon on a Monday. The column is not due until Tuesday at 4:30 p.m. So, if I am really battling a phrase or two, I can go for a walk, or even drive to and from Nebraska, and still make deadline.

Garoppolo had a split second. He threw the ball 54 yards in the air, having put himself in position to do so by quarterbacking a team to a Super Bowl game that not even the exalted Tom Brady could reach this year.

But Garoppolo had the temerity to miss by a yard or two.

Overall, he had difficulty moving the sticks — non-pepperoni version — in the fourth quarter. The Twittersphere went crazy. Sports-talk radio was a gasbag’s paradise.

Can the 49ers win the Super Bowl with Jimmy Garoppolo?

How could he miss that pass to Sanders? Sanders ... (salivating)

... Sanders! ... (overheating) ... Sanders! ... (reaches for car keys) ... Colonel Sanders!!! ... (exit, stage right).

(This column will resume following a KFC break.) INTERMISSION.

Such is the high-flying, highstress life of one who critiques games people play.

If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the ... er, chicken.