SAN DIEGO — I blame El Nino.

What else, Curt, could make a mature, respected, otherwise intelligent sports writer like yourself behave like a sea monkey?

Look at you, bobbing back and forth, picking the Denver Broncos. How cute. What other colors do you come in?

It must be El Nino, Curt. They blame it for every other nutty thing that happens here in California.

And nutty is the word, my old, old friend, when you open your mouth and say,
“The Denver Broncos will win the Super Bowl.”

That is the same as saying, “The Spice Girls are opera’s next great talents” or “Bill Clinton sure is a prude, isn’t he?”

The Denver Broncos? What’s the matter, Curt? Those Mai Tais at the pool finally kicking in? No. Wait. You let those guys from Hair Club for Men press too hard this time?

Oh. Hold on. I know. You figure the odds will catch up with you.

You figure this is like a coin toss, and since the Broncos lost THEIR LAST FOUR SUPER BOWLS they are somehow, in the sports vernacular, “due”?

Hmm. Did you also say Pat Paulsen was “due” the fifth time he ran for president?

Did you say that Eddie the Eagle was “due” the fifth time he went off the ski jump?

Did you say Pauly Shore was “due” the fifth time he made a movie?

Some things are due, Curt, and some are doomed.

You, for example. You are doomed. Doomed to embarrassment. Doomed to shame. Doomed to repeat the mistakes of years past, when you picked Super Bowl teams to win that instead lost by a mere, oh, say, 45 points.

And it will happen again. This Sunday. Did you notice the team on the other side of your beloved Broncos? The Green Bay Packers? Oh. That’s right. You can’t see them. Gilbert Brown is blocking your line of sight.

Trust me, Curt, the guys behind him are just as impressive. Monsters. Unflappable. They have the better defense, the better receivers, and yes, in Brett Favre, the better quarterback.

Sorry. But he is. Here’s a tissue, Curt.

I know you care deeply about John Elway. I know you want to hold his hand and make everything all right. I know you would like someone to do that for you too, Curt. At least that’s what the woman at the lounge told me last night.

But it is not all right.

The winds are blowing, the green rain is coming, and the El Nino that has apparently rotted what little gray matter you have left in your brain will now swarm into a blitz called the Green Bay Packers that will dominate this Super Bowl by two touchdowns.

I suggest you batten down the hatches. And while you’re at it, switch fortune tellers. Whoever you’re using is ripping you off, big-time.

Green Bay 35, Denver 10.

By the way, Curt, the Spice Girls are on the line. They want to sell you their version of “Carmen.”

To leave a message for Mitch Albom, call 1-313-223-4581.

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