LOS ANGELES — Oh, Curt. How sad.

In what can only be a meek and pathetic attempt to recapture your lost youth, you are picking the Cowboys to win this Super Bowl. You obviously feel this makes you hep, the cat’s meow, the bee’s knees, or whatever expression they used back when you were young, and dinosaurs roamed the Earth.

But Curt, my friend, my rapidly aging friend, football is not a sports car. You don’t pick the team with the sunroof, mag wheels and racing stripe just because you’re hoping, deep down, that a Dallas cheerleader will do something special to make you feel young again, like put on a poodle skirt.

No. You are a football writer. Which means you should pick the football team that will win, and leave the youth movement to Grecian Formula 44.

The football team that is going to win is Buffalo.

Yes. Buffalo.

Not Buffalo wings, which I saw you eating with the other teenagers here in LA. (By the way, wear a bib if you’re going to splash so much.) No. I’m talking Buffalo Bills, who are due. Overdue. They are angry. They are tired of being remembered as the team that missed the kick, the team that forgot the helmet. They are Paul Newman facing Tom Cruise in “The Color of Money.” They are Robert Redford facing the kid pitcher in “The Natural.” You know how those movies turned out, don’t you? Or were you too busy watching “Home Alone 2”?

Experience wins. Wisdom wins. You have both those things, don’t you, Curt? Well, OK. You have experience. True, much of it is bad experience, but you do have experience.

And Buffalo has experience. Not to mention strength, speed, defense and chicanery. Don’t think of these Bills as an AFC team. They are not. They are an NFC team hiding in a snowbank. How else did they beat every NFC team they faced this year, including New Orleans and San Francisco? We all know a real AFC team can’t do that.

The Bills have Jim (“I Don’t Care If You Are Magic Johnson”) Kelly, and Thurman (“Next Guy Asks About My Helmet Is Gonna Learn About My Fist”) Thomas, and Bruce (“Go Ahead, Break Every Bone In My Body, I’m Still Standing”) Smith. These guys are fed up. They have no time for the Nintendo-playing, gum- chewing, skateboard-riding Cowboys. Troy Aikman? Does he drive a tricycle to work? Michael Irvin? They’re still waiting for him in algebra class.

And we’re still waiting for you to come to your senses, Curt. Take my advice. Face the music. Accept the distinguished gray look with dignity, the way Marv Levy has. After the Bills win, it will be very much in vogue, and you may even get that cheerleader to do something you can really relate to. Like the Charleston. THE FINAL: Buffalo 24, Dallas 21

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