Out-Asshole Your Friends at Your Super Bowl Party

Championship games are a magical time, but only for those with vested interest in the teams participating. There’s a sudden inexplicable rise in civic pride: Suddenly that mediocre chick you passed out on while semi-fucking, doing yellow coke in Boston, becomes a reason to be a fan of Brady, Belichick, and a bunch of “scrappy” receivers. Your biological father, birth state, college affiliation, or current driver's license becomes a reason to rally behind a team, as you suddenly have a 50/50 chance at being a champion without ever leaving your couch.

Many men and women who aren’t avid sports fans fall victim to several fanatical faux pas during playoff season. They'll spring for expedited shipping on eBay for the re-vintaged three-quarter sleeve bootleg fan shirts to make it in time for kickoff, or overspend on Mitchell & Ness throwbacks of players they may not remember. They'll don boxy snapback starter caps in hopes of willing a win for the team they are suddenly invested in. Worst of all, they'll wear shirts with Looney Tunes on them.

Such emblems of fandom are easily attainable with a positive PayPal balance, eSnipe mastery, or the presence of an older brother who actually likes sports. You can show up to your friend’s locally sourced, growler-beered get-together wearing a dusty pom-pom'ed NY Football Giants ski cap and Lawrence Taylor jersey, but there are sure to be other folks with commensurate Google skills to yours, wearing the same genus of garment over APC jeans and pointy boots, cheering harder and louder.

The true path to being a complete asshole at any Super Bowl party this Sunday lies in your Ikea Malm dresser and utility drawer. A plain white t-shirt and Sharpie are more than enough, the only components necessary to one-up a calculated “fan." The way to do this is simple: In homage to both your “home” team and seminal hardcore band Suicidal Tendencies, you create your own ironic and iconic football fan gear, a DIY-jersey.

Suicidal Tendencies's eponymously-titled debut album. The cover was shot by Glen E.

First, refer to Suicidal’s debut album on Frontier Records, where a plethora of fan-made marker-scrawled T-shirts famously adorn the image on the front sleeve. Next, find the logo of your squadron of interest or relevance. My Massachusetts roots have me choosing the New England Patriots. The key lies in the combination of the two images: juxtaposing Pat Patriot's Sons of Liberty/Minuteman(the historical dudes, not the band)/tri-corner hat vibe with the immediately recognizable Vato Skull favored by the Suicidals (they were a gang for fuck’s sake). For Giants fans, the skull also works. (The skull actually works for every other NFL team except the Raiders, who need no uniform change, but might never make the Super Bowl.) Both the Patriots and Giants sport predominantly blue uniforms, though the Patriots did red until Bill Clinton. The retro flair evokes the urban struggle between the Bloods and the Crips and adds drama to an already tense showdown.

Depending on your drawing skill, it shouldn't take more than a few minutes to arrive at unique fan gear that properly commemorates this clash of rematched champions. Showcase it proudly, to the game with the APC-clad freaks, and to the bar later, where the pasty and pale, yet handsome, bartender will rattle off confounding statistics that belie his carefully calculated, overpriced football costume. Regardless of the outcome of the game you'll be on the forefront of fashion, with both sports-cred and a punk rock pedigree entitling you to a night of mistakes on a Bushwick bed-bugged mattress with a female who would not have talked to you had you shown up in a Steve Grogan or Andre Tippett throwback (who?).

Long after the trophies are handed out, the last flute of champagne emptied and the most shameful speeches are given, the memories, immortalized on Facebook, and to a lesser extent, Orkut, will last, and you’ll be there looking like a true champion.