The Man’s Guys Are 60 Minutes Away

Over the years, I have absorbed a lot of negative mail, angry phone calls and random street heckling. And that’s just from my family. But there’s method to The Man. To wit: The Carolina Panthers. Since Week 1 of this NFL season, I have loudly proclaimed that Carolina is Super Bowl-bound, staking my reputation - carefully crafted over seven autumns of professional prognosticating and nine winters of personal discontent - on the fact that the expansion Panthers would make it to New Orleans.

And now, America is just 60 minutes of sub-zero football away from seeing this mad Man’s vision become reality.

To my friends in Green Bay, my sincerest condolences in advance.

You have to buy a personal seat license to get on the Carolina bandwagon at this point.

As I’ve roamed this great nation in recent days, I am stopped in various coffee bars and bowling centers and asked, “How did you ever figure way back when that Carolina would be Super Bowl-bound?”

People, people, people - there’s no substitute for hard work. I look at reel after reel of game film; in fact, I’m in the film room every Tuesday and Wednesday. I saw some complex blocking schemes, I saw seams in special teams coverage, and, most importantly, I saw the zone blitz - the most critical wrinkle in all of sport since the double switch - and realized that Dom Capers was the Guglielmo Marconi of the NFL.

Heck, I’ve made so much money off the Panthers, I can’t get my Murphy bed back into the wall.

(Let me interrupt this “you’re-going-to-sprain-your-arm-patting-yourself- on-the-back” fest for a moment to point out that, on the other hand, I was a WEE BIT OFF in regards to Jacksonville and New England. As for the Jaguars, I haven’t been this wrong about anything since I said, “I do,” on a crisp Sunday afternoon in late 1984. For also in Week 1, I declared that Jacksonville would not win a Super Bowl title in its “entire franchise history.” Frankly, I don’t think I’ll look too good if that statement doesn’t even hold up for a year when it’s supposed to stand for an entire eternity.)

Anyway, I hate to spoil the ending for everyone, but there’s no way around a Carolina-Jacksonville Super Bowl. We’ve gone from something that once was impossible to improbable to impregnable. It’s now a certainty, as inevitable as an Andrea Mitchell-Alan Greenspan honeymoon at the Bureau of Land and Mines.

And here’s hoping for more bad weather Sunday. Domes are for tractor pulls and direct-mail conventions. As for Lambeau Field, the good news is: They’re installing new turf this week. The bad news is: They got it from Foxboro Stadium.

As usual, the following picks against the point spread are for recreational purposes only:

Panthers at Packers (-12): Hey, if I’m wrong about Carolina, I couldn’t be happier for Green Bay. Green Bay’s become my adopted hometown, my Paris-by-the-Great Lakes, my winter get-away.

I love those people.

And I’m worried for them. There’s such an expectation that the Packers will make it to the Super Bowl, if they happen to lose to Carolina, we’re talking about 97,000 depressed residents in Green Bay with only two qualified therapists.

If I were the local authorities there, I’d be making plans to fly in a specialist from, say, Buffalo, who can handle this kind of crisis.

(Aside to Brett Favre, again: I love you, buddy. But I implore you - Gillette Good News Series S razors. ASAP.)

Here’s the statistic everyone is citing: In 32 franchise games, the Panthers have played in only one game below 35 degrees. So, naturally, they will freeze to death at Lambeau, where the Packers are unbeaten in postseason. Folks, stats prove nothing. For instance, on 47 sailing voyages previous to October 1492, Christopher Columbus had never pulled ashore onto a new land.

Just because something didn’t happen yesterday doesn’t mean it can’t happen tomorrow. (See “Madonna: A Life,” Random House Books.)

Suddenly, Desmond Howard is Jim Thorpe. Yeah, well, he knows how to avoid tackles yet he can’t break tackles. He can run forever untouched. But I’m telling you, if you brush Howard, if you put a finger on his waist or ankle, he goes down. If you just blow into his ear from a 3-yard radius, he falls down, Trust me, I’ve seen the game film. And who knows if he’s going to be ready after intermission? It’s one thing to change your uniform at the half, it’s another thing to be late because you’re wearing button-fly pants. Pick: Panthers.

Jaguars at Patriots (-7-1/2): Like I want to watch Tough Guy Bill Parcells vs. Tough Guy II Tom Coughlin. One guy’s got a gag order on his assistants, the other’s addressing First Amendment issues on TV. One guy talks circles about his future, the other calls his rushing game “the infantry.”

If the three of us were stuck on a desert island, one of us would be dead or gone within 48 hours, and, believe you me, it wouldn’t be either one of them.

That aside, Mark Brunell is fun on the field. He makes plays like Renoir makes impressions. But can Brunell summon God on his side one more time? This is another field-goal-off-the-uprights finish. Pick: Jaguars.

Last week: 2-2.

Season record: 124-120-2.

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The following fields overflowed: CREDIT = Norman Chad Syndicated Columnist