Four years ago when the Patriots played the Giants in Super Bowl XLII, my dad traded-up my parents' 40 inch picture tube TV (I think it even had a dial on it) to 52 inches of pure flatscreen high-defness.
When Brady crushed the Giants, my dad was going to see every pass in all it's plasma glory.
But somehow, Eli Manning handed suave boy Brady his ass. No one could believe it, least of all my dad.
"I got a big screen TV to better see my team get whooped," my dad said.
He told me the next season that whenever he watched the Patriots play on his new big screen, they'd lose. But whenever he'd watch them on the small, crappy TV in the den, they'd win.
"It's my TV's fault whenever they lose," he said. "It's jinxed. It's not doing right by Brady."
The jinx was forcing him to choose between comfort and his team winning.
(This could also be why the Bengals, my dad's number one favorite team, lost the playoff game recently. He always watches them on the big screen.)
But last weekend my dad decided the tide has turned since that crushing Super Bowl defeat of 2008. The curse, he says, has lifted, thanks to Tim Tebow.
Sunday after the Steelers/Broncos game I called him to see if he watched that 80-yard OT touchdown run. We were both disgusted.
"I've heard all I care to hear about of ol' Tim Tebone," my dad said. "It's gonna be Tebone time on Saturday I'll tell ya, Brady's gonna show that boy how to play some ball, now. He's gonna look up and SNAP, touchdown!"
We continued to find new ways to massacre Tebow's name.
"I'm sick ol' Tim Teboner myself," I said. "It makes me want him to lose. Badly."
And no win would be sweeter, especially for my dad, than to watch Brady take the wind of out everyone's annoying Tebow sails.
But given the flatscreen's curse on Brady, I asked my dad where he will watch the game.
We have to provide the best outcome for our national nightmare of Tebow Mania to be over, I reminded him.
"On the big TV. Brady wouldn't let me down two times in a row like that," he said.
Hmmm... I'll be out