I have not yet received word from any of our candidates regarding my interest in being recognized as a special American. Hence I am still undecided. I'll keep you posted.

The Superbowl seemed to go as planned around here, with only a few celebration-related deaths. Not that I don't enjoy a good "Yankees Suck!" cheer as much as the next guy, but where's the fun in running over Northeastern students with your car? I just don't see it.

Maybe this isn't so weird, since I am about as much of a fair-weather Pats fan as someone could be, but I found myself rooting for the Panthers. At least I wanted Viniatieri to miss a third field goal so it would go into overtime. Maybe I just wanted football to go on a little longer. But luckily, just as I was wondering how I was going to break it to Leah that now we need to stick around the house on Saturday and Sunday to watch college hoops, that cool baseball commercial came on. Have you seen it? Derek Jeter hits a wiffleball for what can only be a stickball dinger inside what is supposed to be Josh Beckett's house. It made me go looking for my wiffleball set, since it might hit 40 this weekend. It does not appear to have survived the move.

I think it says a lot about the Mets this year that I already know that my excitement for the season will rise until April, when it will most likely decline slowly until the end of May. At that point we will be 7 1/2 games out and Mets fandom will reach a low point where it will remain through the rest of the season. Lucky for me, the Sox ought to be 4 up on the Yankees by then, just enough to keep everyone around here forecasting doom for the next 4 months. Did you know that the two biggest topics of conversation on sports radio yesterday - that would be the day after the Superbowl victory - were the bad officiating (ok, fine, it was a fumble, but you won) and Ken Walter's two bad punts. There'll always be a New England.