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MONDAY
 
Generally a big fan of Air Canada, but fly to Phoenix on Air Canada Rouge. I always thought "Rouge" meant "red," but apparently it means "Seats only kittens can fit comfortably in." Need to work on my French.

Arrive at hotel and front desk clerk hands me a large warmed delicious chocolate chip cookie with my key. This is brilliant check-in bribery. I could find a dead body in my room now and be hesitant to complain. 

Walking through downtown Phoenix, a scalper asks us if we want to buy tickets to the Pro Bowl that night. I laugh like he's Louis C.K. I prefer my football with tackling.

TUESDAY
 
The last Super Bowl Media Day I covered was in Jacksonville in 2005.  My lasting memory is of two Mexican reporters from Azteca Deportes who asked questions with hand puppets. I arrive at Media Day in Phoenix and among the first people I run into are the same two reporters, with different hand puppets. I quietly wonder if the original puppets got a better offer and jumped to Telemundo.  
 
The problem with Media Day is that half the "reporters" don't seem to actually work in the media. There must be radio stations who hand out passes to contest winners. A couple of guys in the Gronkowski scrum are wearing Patriots T-shirts and asking probing questions like, "Gronk, why are you so awesome?"  
 
Though that is actually better than many of the questions real media ask.
 
I am standing with Seattle punter and Canadian boy Jon Ryan when a reporter sticks his mic in and says:
 
Reporter: "You are Canadian, right?"

Ryan:  "Yes."

Reporter:  "Do you like pontoon?"

Ryan: "What?"

Reporter: "Do you like pontoon?"

Ryan:  "Poutine?"

Reporter: "Yes, poutine."
 
Twenty-nine reporters ask Marshawn Lynch questions, all getting the exact same answer, "I'm only here so I don't get fined."  I want to ask the 29th guy if he thought his question was so good, it would make Lynch sit up straight and say, "Brilliantly posed sir! This one I must answer, thoroughly and eloquently!"

I am impressed (confused?) with the fans who buy tickets to sit in the stands during Media Day to watch...scrums. There are a couple of hundred Seahawks faithful who cheer madly every time Russell Wilson has a good answer. Some even scream during the Patriots' availability, making me wonder if they are trying to affect Brady and his offence's ability to hear the questions. They take this 12th man thing seriously. 
 
WEDNESDAY
 
Fourteen more questions without answers for Lynch. Give up the dream people. You are not getting him to open up about his childhood and cry for you.

Eat dinner at Lo-Lo's Chicken and Waffle House in Scottsdale, highly recommended by Deion Sanders. I assume the name means waffles for breakfast, and chicken as a specialty for dinner. I am wrong. It means fried chicken and waffles, together, for every meal. Broccoli is not allowed within 10 miles of the place. It is a bylaw, I believe. I order the "Tre-Tre" because it sounds like it gives me street cred. It has two drumsticks and one giant waffle with an ice-cream sized scoop of butter. It is delicious. I have no regrets.
 
THURSDAY
 
I have quadruple bypass surgery.
 
FRIDAY
 
NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell holds his annual State of the Union news conference. The union has issues. Goodell sidesteps every question like a Russell Wilson scramble. One reporter asks, roughly, "Any other employee who had a year like you did would have been fired or resigned by now.  Why haven't you been fired or resigned?"

Boom. I can't see the reporter who asks it because there are about 1,000 people in the room, but I quietly hope it is one of the Mexican hand puppets.  

Goodell just keeps digging himself a deeper hole. I have had numerous issues with Gary Bettman over the years (cough...TV rights...cough), but he makes himself available much more than once every four months. Plus he answers questions, even if you don't always like the answers. A Roger Goodell interview is the same as a Marshawn Lynch interview, just with more and fancier words.
 
SATURDAY
 
I am standing in the bleachers behind the 16th hole at the Phoenix Open, the craziest golf tournament the planet has ever known.

The most fruitless job in sport belongs to the volunteers who ask the crowd for silence before players hit their tee-shots on 16 at Phoenix. They scream, cheer, boo, chant, and mostly drink, through every shot. You hit one tight, it's a football stadium celebrating a game-winning touchdown for the home team.You miss the green, it's the same crowd after the ref called the touchdown back. PGA Pro Jon Rahm wears an Arizona State football jersey for his tee-shot. The crowd goes nuts. Then he hits it long to the back of the green, and they boo him relentlessly.

The 16 Bleacher Creatures chant every chant ever used in American sport. Examples:
 
-"USA! USA!" for every American player, and some Euros who they believe are American because they have had 17 Budweisers.

-The Atlanta Braves Tomahawk Chop chant...for no explicable reason.

-"Bald spot! Bald spot!" As Phil Mickelson strolls towards the green.

You need to put 16 bleachers on your bucket list. Just don't bring your kids. 

This tournament is basically the world's largest nightclub. Except it opens at 7am. Women show up in heels and cocktail dresses. And leave covered in mud. There are more than 100,000 people on the course the day I'm there. I figure about 10,000 are watching golf. 
 
I always thought the Phoenix Waste Management Open is a terrible sponsor name. But in my three hours there, I see two fights, a couple of guys throwing up, and one young lady (in heels) passed out in the mud.

The sponsor name, in retrospect, is perfect. 

SUNDAY

The Auxiliary Press Box is one of the sections at the top of the stadium. We are in the last row of media, with an entire section of Patriots fans right behind us. Chris Schultz makes a point of telling them he picked the Pats to win. Which he did, though he would have told Seahawks fans the same thing if they were behind us. Avoiding getting beer poured on his head is one of Schultzy's many strengths.  

The game is great, but you all saw that, so I'll skip the details. I'm a mile from the stage for the halftime show. In fact, from my vantage point it almost looks like Katy Perry is dancing with sharks!  Lol. As if. No choreography would be that drunk. (Unless they were at the golf tournament all weekend.)

When you cover the game, you always watch the end from the bowels of the building, in a Disney ride-like line-up to get on the field. I have never seen a group of media gasp the way they did when the Seahawks threw on that last play. 

Even the hand puppets said, "Holy S***!"  (In Spanish)

We interview Patriots' corner Brandon Browner, who says...what we all are saying, "What were those guys thinking?"

When my alarm goes off at 4am for my flight home, I ask the same thing of myself.  

By the way, I have now covered three Super Bowls. All Patriot victories.

I should really get a ring.