I’m a big Elvis fan. That may seem a little strange since he hasn’t been with us since 1977 (Super Bowl XI for those who are already in the mood). I know the guy was the ultimate when it comes to cool. Who else could make hearts swoon in a jazzed up Jiffy Lube one-piece? But, to me, most importantly the guy could flat out sing.

Elvis was the King when the Super Bowl was as Wikipedia states: the annual American football game that determines the champion of the National Football League (NFL).” I was thinking of editing this tomorrow morning: The Super Bowl is the annual party featuring funny, strange, occasionally poignant, over-produced commercials, a half-time show, lots of food and drink, confetti, and a football game strategically peppered in between (this is when most take bathroom breaks).

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But just imagine it. The King taking the stage… What would he squeeze into 12 minutes?

Howard Cosell takes the microphone: “Ladies and Gentleman…. Elvis!”

“Thank you! Thank you very much!”

Guitar strums a major chord, drum fill…

The King drops in right on time: “Lord Almighty, I feel my temperature risin’”

Rising it is. The crowd is on high heat, screaming, stomping and spilling 20 dollar cans of cheap beer all over each other. People my age are out of breath before the chorus and hoping the chiropractor has a spot tomorrow morning.

“Higher and higher. It’s burning through to my soul….”

The crowd sings along like a choir. Thank God for the harmony of out of tune voices—but it sounds so sweet.

Elvis brings us home. Hips a swaying, his dark, shiny locks keeping the beat.

“I’m just a hunka hunka burning love.”

I’m reminded that I am dreaming and something is burning in the kitchen. I have no idea why I am sweating and my hips ache. But today, just this once, I will slip away at halftime and crank Elvis in my car while the troops watch upstairs. Thank you. Thank you very much.