Your Meast for Super Bowl XLV is – shock of shocks! – Aaron Rodgers, who was also granted an even more widely hallowed distinction than Meast for his efforts on Sunday. Was it The Bridgestone Tires Rubber Meets The Road Big Wheel of the Game? I can’t recall. But it was shiny. Of course, all the media had to ask him in the days that followed was whether or not he expected a congratulatory phone call from Brittfar. Because that was what this was all about for Rodgers, you see. Not the adulation nor the glory. Only recognition from the Dongslinger.
Joking momentarily aside, the throw Rodgers made on the seam route to Greg Jennings on 3rd and 10 from the Packers side of the field during their final clock-killing field goal drive was perhaps the most important of the many pinpoint passes he had during the evening.
Yeah, that’s pretty much perfect.
//dies laughing watching Charles Woodson wince while trying to celebrate on the sideline
Your Least for Super Bowl XLV is William Gay. If Jordy Nelson or James Jones were actually capable of catching passes more than a third of the time, it’d be more readily apparent how badly Gay was getting torched all evening. I’ll leave it to you rapist wits to extrapolate homophobic jokes out of that last sentence. No doubt the execrable performance was the result of Glenn Beck’s pagan god of blackboard freedom smiting Gay for having the audacity to tear up during the National Anthem. Leave the guy alone, Beck. The corner’s previous reaming must have been a particularly emotional one.