There is something special about the unique band of being brothers.
Brothers you love. Brothers you hate. Brothers forever and a day.
It’s all about brotherly love. A love that only brothers can fathom. A love that is somewhat less complicated than gnashing our bicuspids over the meaning of life and what comes after death.
Blood is as thick as a medical school textbook. Thick as the Beijing phonebook. You can look it up.
I once threw six darts, and four of them stuck, at one of my brothers on Christmas Eve in a scoring disagreement. My mom was not pleased.
I once gave another brother a bloody nose in a disagreement over a misplaced typewriter cover. Little did we know then that typewriters soon would become as past tense as the Joe Louis left hook I nailed my brother with.
Now, oh brother, are we gonna have a Super Bowl. Jim Harbaugh will lead his San Francisco 49ers against John Harbaugh’s Baltimore Ravens.
Why the hell is this Super Bowl in New Orleans?
It definitely should be in Philly, the City of Brotherly Love.
It’s gonna be one intense family affair.
A game that will make all of us brothers in arms.
Except for those who were an only child or stuck with just sisters.
Then again, those folks already know that life is as unfair as a casino.