Who knew? Did you? I didn't until yesterday afternoon when I read a window poster at an actual Kentucky Fried Chicken... KFC to those of you born PA (post acronym).
Come on! I was good. I went out and bought a new digital TV before the original deadline. I watched dozens of games on it during the 2008 season. Clueless!
We've all seen Chunky Soup in the locker room, and Troy Polamalu tackling the guys who jacked his bottle of Coke Zero, but somehow I'd missed all the hand prints of honey BBQ sauce on game jerseys.
I'd never seen John Madden diagram how a receiver missed a pass because he failed to lick his fingers, despite the replay clearly showing his quarterback did.
I'd seen the winning team dump buckets of Gatorade over the coach's head, but never a bucket of barbecue, crispy or original recipe wings.
One day NFL uniforms may sell space to a single sponsor, or they could look like NASCAR where there's still a little bit of non logo-covered paint, yet in the ultimate subliminal messaging the word Pennzoil gets stuck in your brain because it went by 285 times at 192.4 miles an hour.
One day the NFL may sell naming rights to the big game itself. Imagine being welcomed back to "Tidy Bowl XLVII."
One day NFL officials may throw flags because entire chicken wings are thrown onto the field, or because, once the tasty part's gone, the remnants are: "Atlanta penalty, Number 57, 15 yards, boning."