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Nothing ruins a sporting event more than some hack who won’t give the score, or keeps screaming, or gets facts wrong. Here are Houston’s five worst offenders.

5. Clyde Drexler was one of the greatest basketball players the city of Houston has ever produced. As a broadcaster, well, let’s just say that as a broadcaster he was a better coach. Sure, he’s an improvement over Calvin Murphy, but that’s just because he doesn’t waste time talking about cookies.

4. Mark Vandermeer has a great voice. Unfortunately, when he’s broadcasting a game, you get the feeling that he’s more concerned with trying to fit in one of his catchphrases than he is with actually describing the play. You also get the feeling he’d be happier hearing his voice on a SportsCenter highlight than with the Texans winning a game.

You may not know this from reading my writings, but I like sports. I watch lots of sports. I listen to lots of sports. And I have lots of opinions based on what I listen to, and what I watch. If the play-by-play guy and/or the color analyst is really good, I can sit through a bad game and actually enjoy myself. But if the analyst or play-by-play guy stink, a really good game can be ruined.

Now Houston has been home to major league professional sports franchises since 1960. So while the city might not have the sports broadcasting history as places like New York or Chicago, it does have some. For instance, one of the current voices of those great NFL Films highlight packages, Harry Kalas, started by doing play-by-play for the Houston Astros. Jim Nantz of CBS Sports got his start in Houston.

I thought I would take a few minutes to give you what I consider to be the five best sports broadcasters in the history of Houston sports.

Since it is playoff time for the Rockets and Aeros, and since the Astros and Texans probably won’t be seeing the playoffs for a long time to come, I figured it was an appropriate time to visit the Five Biggest Choke Jobs in Houston Sports History.

So, in descending order, away we go.

5. January 1, 1979, Notre Dame vs. UH: The weather in Dallas is beyond awful. The temperature is below zero. It’s sleeting. But the Cotton Bowl must go on because CBS is paying lots of big bucks and the teams have been promised lots of money. The Houston Cougars are leading the Fighting Irish of Notre Dame 34-12 with only 7:37 remaining in the game. The Notre Dame starting QB has been sitting in the locker room, suffering from the flu. The QB is fed some chicken noodle soup. Notre Dame blocks a Cougar punt for a TD. The QB emerges from the locker room to pass for the two-point conversion to make the score 34-20. Notre Dame moves the ball 61 yards on their next possession, with the QB gaining the final three yards for the TD, then throws for the two points. And with 4:15 on the clock the score is suddenly 34-28. The Irish manage to get the ball back and, with :00 on the clock, the QB connects for an eight-yard TD to tie the game. The Irish make the PAT, and just like that, the Irish have won 35-34.

Oh, and the name of that Notre Dame QB: Joe Montana, and it was on this day that the legend of Joe Montana was born.

Get ready, Houston.

It’s coming. I swear to you it’s coming.

What am I talking about? Houston Texans playoff hype, that’s what. By the time training camp kicks off in July, I guarantee you’ll have probably read at least a half dozen stories pegging the Texans as a “sleeper” playoff team in the AFC. Considering Houston’s recent reputation as pro football purgatory, I’m guessing the franchise will welcome such great expectations with open arms.

But can the team actually deliver the goods? Let’s look into our crystal ball and find out.

Lost in the uproar and confusion of the Clemens/McNamee cage match was another little meeting between professional sports and Congress on Wednesday. Yep, that’s right, NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell snuck up to D.C. during the Clemens proceedings to meet with Senator Arlen Specter (R-PA) on the matter of Spygate.

And, once again, while I think Congress should be dealing with more important matters – like giving the telecom industry the right to spy on Americans – Senator Specter, the author the Magic Bullet Theory, was able to get some actual, useful, information out of Mr. Goodell.

Will Leitch, editor of the great sports blog Deadspin, has a new book, God Save the Fan. I'm not here pimping the book, which despite some copy editing problems is rather good, but because I want to discuss something Leitch wrote.

For those of you who have never read Leitch’s blog, it is important to know he’s a huge fan of the St. Louis Cardinals, so lots of his points are filtered through that bias. Like the story of how everyone considered then-Cardinals third baseman Scott Rolen a huge hero for shooting up with cortisone prior to the 2006 World Series with the Detroit Tigers. The cortisone helped to ease the pain Rolen had from injuries that had kept him from playing effectively in the National League Championship Series against the New York Mets.

Rolen, Leitch reminds everyone, was a hero because he manned up and took the cortisone. Which is not a big deal, because thousands of athletes take cortisone shots in order to be able to play. Which is not that big a deal until you consider that, technically, cortisone is a steroid.

And as we have learned over the past several years, steroids are evil.

The word out of Boston – coming after the Patriots’ stunning loss to the Giants, following closely the revelations that the Patriots taped the Rams final walkthrough before the 2002 Super Bowl, with all of this flowing from revelations that the Patriots had an assistant taping opposing coaches for several years, which was revealed after Pennsylvania Senator Arlen Specter stated he was considering an investigation of the NFL, after Roger Goodell admitted to destroying evidence – is that the NFL may be reopening its investigation into the whole Spygate matter.

Which leads me to ask: How can you reopen an investigation if you destroyed the evidence?

Photo by Daniel Kramer

The city of Houston is making another try at hosting a Super Bowl, this time the 2012 game. I hate to be one to spread bad news, but I don’t think this is going to happen.

First, there are a bunch of small-market NFL owners who are a bit pissed at Texans owner Bob McNair, and who are probably not much for doing him favors, like giving him another Super Bowl. The way they see it, if McNair wants to hog all of his regular season revenue, why should they help him get the bucks he’d get from hosting a Super Bowl?

But that’s not the big reason. The big reason is simple. With all of the laws the city’s been working on, it’s quite possible all of the topless clubs will be shut down come 2012. Now I’m a native Houstonian, but really, what else is there for a tourist in Houston but the topless clubs?

Sometimes you just know.

Watching Super Bowl XLII last night, the ending seemed etched in stone early on. Whether it was Ahmad Bradhshaw’s second quarter “How the hell did he end up with the ball?” fumble recovery, or David Tyree’s “How the hell did he catch that?” last-minute reception, I just knew a Giants’ victory was in the stars. Every time the Patriots had a chance to seal the deal in the final two minutes, they blew it (Nice hands, Asante Samuel and Brandon Merriweather), while Eli Manning and his New York teammates just continued to pull rabbit after rabbit out of the hat.

How predictable was the ending? Mere moments before the Giants snapped the ball from New England’s 13 yard line, I matter-of-factly stated “Touchdown, Plaxico Burress.” Ten seconds later, a wide-open Burress cradled the winning score in his hands. It’s just too bad that sort of prognostication prowess escaped me when I was making my Super Bowl pick.

Make no mistake, the Giants deserved to win. Their defense was phenomenal, somehow shutting down New England’s history-making offense. Sure, Eli was a deserving MVP, but make no mistake: This game was won by the Giants’ swarming D. I mean, who on earth thought New York could score a pedestrian 17 points… and win?!? Not me, that’s for sure.

Tom Coughlin, you’re welcome. Eli Manning, me and you are now the co-owners of New York City. Plaxico Burress, you owe me. Mercury Morris, you don’t look like such a crazy old man now. Yeah, you guys were all good. But really, everyone knows who the Super Bowl MVP really was.

Me.

But John, you’re saying. You picked the Patriots to win. And you picked the Patriots to win by a score of 56-17. So how are you the MVP?

Easy.

I can hear it now. All you uber-astute readers are muttering: “That Friedman’s such an idiot. His title refers to Super Bowl 43, when this Sunday’s game is only the 42nd. What a moron.”

But while I may, in fact, actually be a moron or an idiot (or both), the title to this column is actually correct. I’m not here to talk about this year’s Super Bowl. In my mind, it’s a foregone conclusion; has been for more than a year. You see, last January 29th — 6 days before Super Bowl XLI — I picked the Pats to win it all in 2008. Granted, I didn’t see 19-0 in their future. But I definitely knew they were destined for a big year.

Note to the reader: Should you decide to actually take the time to read last year’s column, please ignore the fact I picked Atlanta to face New England in this year’s big game. Although, to my credit, I did predict something bad would happen to Michael Vick. I just didn’t know “something bad” would equal “He bitch-slapped Benjy and then proceeded to help drown him and some of his friends.” For what it’s worth, I didn’t anticipate the Falcons trading Matt Schaub, either. Anyway, let’s just move on.

So I could join the mob and saturate the electronic superhighway with yet another mundane preview of XLII. But why? Just know Super Bowls are won by the team with the superior coach/QB combo 99.9 percent of the time. And if that doesn’t convince you to pick the Patriots, there’s this: EVERYONE is talking themselves into taking New York, at least for gambling purposes. I even read a blurb on the Wall Street Journal Web site stating Las Vegas was facing heavy losses if the Giants win. Vegas doesn’t lose money, folks. And the Patriots don’t lose. Period.

It’s finally here. The Super Bowl. The New England Patriots attempting to become the first team to go 19-0 for a season. And the New York Giants trying to play the belittled underdog and stop the Patriots.

So what’s going to happen?

The Patriots are currently favored by 12 points, and the over/under for points to be scored in the game is 54.

Let’s look at a few things that might come into play on Sunday. Is Tom Brady injured? How badly is he injured? Will Gisele Bundchen be cast in the Jessica Simpson role? And just how pissed at Plaxico Burress is Brady? What about Randy Moss and his restraining order? Has Rodney Harrison stayed off of the juice? Has Bill Belichick put found a new way to cheat, or did he find a way to videotape the Giants defensive signals the last time they played?

The Super Bowl’s not supposed to kick off until 5:17 p.m. on Sunday. And Fox must really think you’re an idiot based on their pregame programming choices. That’s where I come in. I’m here to save you from Fox and the Fox crap.

So forget about Shepard Smith and the idiots from Fox News Channel doing their Super Tuesday analysis at 9:00 a.m. Forget about Ryan Seacrest and his live whatever from the Super Bowl red carpet – I didn’t even know there was a Super Bowl red carpet. There will be nothing useful said during the pregame shows. There will be talks about Plaxico Burress’s guarantee. We may hear something about Brady’s ankle. I’m sure that there will be something about how Tom Coughlin has changed, and about how Eli Manning has matured. There will be something about Randy Moss emerging as a team leader. And about how these two teams played each other in the last regular season game of the year.

And that will take up the 20 hours of pregame programming leading into the Super Bowl. So there’s no need for you to waste your time. In fact, there’s no need to turn on the television until about 1:00 p.m., so until that time, go shopping. Go to church if you’re one of those religious folks. Go see the matinee showing of Rambo.

The horror. The horror.

Gentlemen, I hope that you are seated. I hope that you have braced yourselves, because I have some bad news. Some bad news indeed. You see, we’re not going to have any choice with the Super Bowl this year, we’re going to have to watch Tom Petty and the Fox halftime show. Don’t do me like that. Don’t do me like that. Please don’t leave me with no other halftime options.

Not after yesterday. Not after the Lingerie Bowl was cancelled.

That’s right, no hot women in tight shorts, sports bras, shoulder pads, and hockey helmets playing football. No nearly naked women trying to tackle other nearly naked women or getting into catfights.

Instead, we’re just going to have to watch Tom Petty. And I’ve got nothing against Tom Petty, but Tom, you ain’t no nearly naked hot woman. So just stop draggin’ my heart around.

But, courtesy of YouTube, here’s a little bit of what we’ll be missing this halftime. Enjoy.

I was a week away from starting my third year of law school when I boarded a Delta flight for Washington, D.C., by way of Atlanta. I was on my way to interview for a job with the Justice Department – a job which I didn’t get.

I remember sitting in my window seat and reading the morning’s Chron, specifically, the sports page. I remember that it was August of 1992, that the Astros had lost the night before, and that Warren Moon and the Oilers were arguing over his contract.

A lady sat down in the aisle seat next me and asked if I was a football fan. I responded with my default answer: I love baseball and generally don’t start paying attention to football until after the World Series. She smiled, said she understood, and asked if I was an Oilers fan when I did follow football. I said yes.