Daniel Kohn is a guest writer to The Sports Union

As we gear up for the holy grail of American sports, there is a code of conduct that needs to be discussed.  Unfortunately, last year I violated all of the major ones related to Super Bowl and for that I deserve a Pacman-esque suspension for my behavior.

Last year, for better or worse, I was way too excited about my beloved Giants facing a potential juggernaut in the 18-0 New England Patriots.  Yes, we were 11.5 point underdogs.  Yes, history was on the line.  But no, I should never have broken my pre-game routine, even if this was the Super Bowl.

At around 4 pm, a cool two hours before kickoff, my father, also suffering from the pre-game jitters, made himself a stiff vodka drink and offered me a glass of 22-year-old whiskey.  Since we were in the Super Bowl, I figured, why the hell not? However, one drink quickly turned into five, which turned into eight, all within two hours.   By the time kickoff started, I was acting like an Eagle fan.

Instead of settling into my customary spot on my parents’ couch, I slipped into blackout mode, vaguely remembering certain parts of the game.  Initially when my parents’ friends got to our house, I was cordial and sweet.  I was the typical eldest son, a little loony, but still normal…until kickoff.

When I spoke to dad about what transpired, he was less than thrilled.  Apparently I was spewing such phrases such as “shove the [editor's cut] ball down their throat,” “Brady ain’t nothin’ but a vagina on the field” and “Friar Tuck is a Greek God in cleats.”  That was just the beginning.

For a hot second, Tom Petty somehow snapped me out of this drunken stupor, but by the 2^nd half kickoff, I settled back into blackout mode.

The venom and vulgarity I was spitting at the TV was normal.  However, this is not the recommended behavior when you are in front of family friends whom have known you since you were a child.  I continued, according to dad, when I kept saying “c’mon, don’t blow it to those chowdah eatin [editor's cut]” and “win this one for the only city that matters.”  Again, this may be true and I don’t disagree, but I don’t remember saying this outside of my subconscious.  Oh well.

Finally during the 4^th quarter I snapped out of it, somewhat.  When Kevin Boss rumbled 45 yards, I thought I was finally getting it together. Tyree TD, all right, back in business.  Not blacked out anymore.  Um, nope, I was mistaken.  The next few minutes were a haze:  I vaguely remember the Pats scoring their last touchdown with 2:36 left.  What I do remember is Jacobs getting a first down on 4^th and inches.  But I sure as hell I don’t remember THE PLAY (Eli to Tyree with shenanigans in between).  Then I remember Steve Smith for 12 on 3^rd and 11, and of course, Plax’s winning TD catch.

Dad said that immediately after the game ended I took a victory lap around the house screaming: “I can’t believe we beat those [editor's cut], [editor's cut], cheating [editor's cut].”  Too bad I don’t remember enjoying the win that much.  Oops.

The point of this vague recap folks is that you should not underestimate the power of booze and the importance of not straying from your pre-game rituals on Super Bowl Sunday. For Cardinal and Steelers fans, do NOT get caught up in the pre-game lull/hype.  This gross miscalculation on my part not only caused me to miss my favorite team’s shining moment, but turned me into a complete asshole and embarrassment to people that have known me since I was a wee tot.

So for you Cardinal fans who have never been here before and for Steelers fans that seem to be here every 6 or so years, don’t miss this opportunity to enjoy your team performing on the largest stage in American sports.  It is very rare that you have the entire world’s eyes on your team.

For fans of the underdog Cardinals, you never know if you are going to shock the world.   Trust me, I found this out the hard way.  The best advice I can give is to stay true to your pre-game routine, don your team colors and don’t act like a fool or else you could possibly miss history, embarrass yourself and more importantly, suffer from a mean 48-hour hangover.

After my Giants exited the playoffs, my yearlong suspension ended and now I look forward to better remembering this year’s Super Bowl and rooting for the G-Men to roll again next year.

 Daniel Kohn is a guest writer for The Sports Union and the owner of the Kohn Pub, which is always packed with angry New York fans.  The self-proclaimed hater of anything not authentically New York, like the Jets.  Kohn is a writer for the Huffington Post and has managed to not only piss off all conservatives for writing for the Post but also to enrage most of the liberals that frequent the site.

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