THEY MADE GOOD BEATS. AND THEY LIKED BUDDY HOLLY AND THE CRICKETS. AND THUS, THE BEATLES.

THE CLOCK OPERATER WAS AMBUSHED

Last Friday was the four-year anniversary of the Saints winning the Super Bowl. And as usual on Feb. 7, I sat down and relived the greatest moment in sports history. 

Every time I rewatch the game I notice something I never noticed before. Friday was no different. And I went down a google rabbit hole and found no mention of this anywhere. So I present this Super Bowl quirk to you exclusively. 

Ambush, the onside kick to start the second half, took one second off the clock. 

Above, the play was mostly over as refs tried to sort out who had recovered the ball. And as you can see, no time has elapsed off the clock. It took zero seconds for the ball to bounce off Hank Baskett, be grabbed by Chris Reis, be about to be lost and jammed back into Reis' grasp by Jonathan Casillas. 

Actually, the one second ticks off right after this picture was taken. As the scrum ends, the clock starts and immediately stops. When Brees takes the field to start the go-ahead drive, one second has elapsed. 

Perhaps the clock operator was too busy watching the pigs as they prepared to fly. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

It was my mom's 57th birthday Sunday. She was born in 1957. Shouldn't there be a term for this like golden birthday?

It was also the 50th anniversary of The Beatles first playing in America. We watched the special together. She reflected on the Lennon-McCartney duo. 

"Nobody could ever write like them. Until a fucking guy had to go and kill one of them. That fucking lunatic tricked him. Asked him to sign an autograph."

Mom failed the eye exam when renewing her license on the right eye part. "They gonna take my license away if my fucking left eye goes out. Wonder how these fucking old people still driving."

Mom likes Lorde's Royals. "That fucking song is everywhere. Was even on fucking Idol this week. That show better get it together. Last year that fucking panel, I had to fast forward every time they talked."

But it wasn't the worst in music over the past year. "You know what was the fucking worse? The fucking Grammys."

In case you're wondering, I made mom a mix CD for her birthday. Except I forgot to bring the blank disc when I went over there Sunday. Oops. 

BREAK THE WALLS DOWN

I drove downtown Sunday afternoon and picked up Paul at Nerdville, or as it's better known: Comic-con. We then went to World of Wheels in the Dome because Chris Jericho was signing autographs. 

I brought his first autobiography, and he signed it. I said I liked some part of the book. Jericho: "Actually, that doesn't appear until my second book." Well, excuse me. 

I don't have a business card so I wrote my information down on a piece of paper. I told him I wanted to interview him for a big wrestling story I'm working on, which is totally true. I said I didn't know how else to contact him. He said no problem and that he'd email me. 

As Joe and I would say to each other: Doubt it. 

I'm also currently being ignored by Ric Flair and Steve Austin. 

ONE CHIP PER QUARTER. AS ALWAYS.

DAT'S SUPER

I'm off tonight for the Super Bowl. This is very exciting. I have watched the past 10 Super Bowls from the third floor of my office building. The closest I've come to watching in a different location is that I was at several different desks in those 10 years. 

How long has it been since I watched the Super Bowl not at work?

-- The last time I didn't watch the Super Bowl at work, I was a teenager. I went my whole 20s watching it at work.

-- The last time there was no Katrina, Twitter or even the idea of Breaking Bad. 

-- I saw the nip slip, the helmet catch, the tippy-toe catch, the Saints victory and the power outage all while working. 

-- The last time a cornerback was MVP. Since then, seven QBs and three WRs. Could Sherman return it to a CB?

-- The last time the Bucs won the Super Bowl. I don't think they have won a playoff game since. 

-- The last time I went to some party with Joe. And I'm doing that tonight. Some things don't change. 

I have a Super Bowl pool at work. Closest score with the right team wins. We had 20 people put up a dollar. I did this same pool at that party in 2003. 

My pick is Denver 20, Seattle 10. It's Peyton's year. Plain and simple. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom has been watching the Oscar nominated movies. On Captain Phillips: "I ain't getting on no boat without a fucking gun." On Wolf of Wall Street. "I used to take those pills. I'd take half of one. They fucked you up." On an Oscar snub: "I'm fucking pissed August wasn't nominated. It was so good."

Mom had an accurate assessment of the weather earlier this week. "It was so fucking cold."

Mom needs a new phone. You goes to Wal-Mart. "Guy didn't have a fucking clue. He couldn't answer any questions. So I said sarcastically thank you. He says you're welcome." Me: Maybe he understood your sarcasm and was fucking with you back. Mom: "No. He didn't have a fucking clue."

I tell mom that I need to book a hotel room. She says what for. I say the bachelor party. "Oh. I don't know what the fuck y'all doing."

Mom couldn't believe the situation in Atlanta with Winter Storm Leon. "Kids had to stay in fucking school. People were stranded and shit. People left their car on the road. Said the police ain't coming fuck it. It was a fucking mess."