There’s an unofficial, no-money football pool in the office. It’s not something I’ve taken any real interest in — though I bear no ill will toward sports, I’m not what you would call a sports fan, and if anything sometimes find myself a tad overwhelmed by the enthusiasms of those around me.

So it’s odd, from the first, that I even submitted picks to last week’s penultimate round of regular season games. I was talked into playing just for the novel juxtaposition of giggles with shits, essentially, and so I rattled off my decisions, along with my preposterous justifications, to my departmental lead. And that was that.

Turns out I was the only one to get four out of four correct.

So that I can provide legitimate football fans the chance to be properly horrified by the manner of this serendipity, here are the reasons I chose the teams I chose, as best as I can recall from last Thursday:

New England had to, by all reason, beat New York — it’s bigger! Larger pool of indigenous talent! Clearly. Seattle is bound to beat Indianapolis as it is closer to Portland and, besides, Indianapolis has been paying too much attention to car racing, right? What about Buffalo beating Cincinnati? Let me ask you this: have you ever heard of someone fleeing from a charging Cincinnati? No. No you have not.

Finally, Kansas City has to beat San Diego. Why? Kansas City. KC. Morphological similarity to RC. Royal Crown Cola. Arguably the best cola ever made. But — and this is important, so listen up — but aside from the profound beverage implications (aside from? superceding!), one must consider that my departmental supervisor is from San Diego. It would chafe him to see his hometown team lose, and thus they must.

I must be on to something. Next stop, Vegas, coke habit, mounting debt, and the loss of a couple kneecaps.