DETROIT -- After such a phenomenal playoffs, capped by what, for my money, was one of the most entertaining Super Bowls in history, part of me doesn't even mind about the 18 inches of snow that fell in Detroit yesterday or the fact that local authorities are saying most of us will be stuck in town until at least Feb. 9.

Once I wrap up my final column of the season, I plan on strapping up my cool Nike snow shoes (the ones they gave away for free at the Maxim party) and heading over to the media center for the press conference featuring Super Bowl XL MVP Steve Smith. It's still so weird to type those words; what with the way the game and, heck, the entire week went down.

And I'm not even talking about all the off-the-field stuff: the Bud Light commercial with those female robots doing that thing to Ted Ferguson; Mick Jagger breaking his hip during halftime rehearsals, forcing the NFL to get Green Day to replace the decrepit Stones; the Titans trading for T.O. and trading up for Vince Young; or the hilarious news conference at the Lions complex when Matt Millen announced Barry Switzer as Detroit's new head coach and Switzer talked about using the wishbone attack to win the " ... the, uh, the ... whatever division it is we play in."

I know everyone's still up in arms about what Smith said after the game. I don't care. I thought it was hilarious. "I'm going to Disneyland ... bitches!" Are you kidding me? That was awesome. It will go down in history as one of the all-time great postgame declarations.

Everybody needs to lighten up. Give the guy a break, will ya. Did you know Smith used to ride a bus for three hours to get to junior college? And that he worked a lunch shift at Taco Bell to pay his way? Or that he came back from a broken neck at Utah? Or that Kenny Rogers' "The Gambler" is one of his favorite tunes and he's a dedicated pee wee soccer coach? He's raw, but he's real, and that's rare in an era when our sports stars have all become Visa Metaphor All-American pitchmen, blinding us with their perfect pearly whites and rehearsed, rehashed and researched responses.

Of course, for my money, defensive end Julius Peppers and wicked linebacker Dan Morgan (22 tackles in the Super Bowl, are you kidding me?) could have won the award too, or QB Jake Delhomme, or corner Ken Lucas, or veteran wideout Ricky Proehl or, heck, John Fox and his entire coaching staff, for the number they pulled on Peyton Manning.

(Just goes to show: If you're going to invent a new defense, then the second half of the Super Bowl is as good a time as any to unveil it. That's why Tom Coughlin shouldn't be so sensitive about getting depantsed by Fox in the wild-card game -- heck, the guy did it to everyone he faced in the playoffs.)

I mean, I know sitting here in my RenCen hotel room -- a week's worth of dirty room service dishes, media freebies and treasured keepsakes from the Playboy Party stacked to the ceiling -- looking out across the Detroit River at Windsor, watching the snow pile halfway up the walls of Joe Louis Arena, I know Smith's 11 catches for 159 yards and two TDs were probably enough on their own to win him the award. But I bet most MVP voters were still thinking about his kick return in Chicago in the divisional round. Wasn't it old Marquette coach Al McGuire who said on the road to the title, most champions must win a game they probably should have lost?

Well, that pretty much sums up the Panthers' 7-6 win over the Bears, huh? For the Bears to dominate every aspect of that game the way they did -- picking off Delhomme twice and sacking him four times (America meet Lance Briggs; Lance Briggs meet America) -- only to lose on a kick return by Smith after Robbie Gould's second field goal, all I can say is ... ouch. And if you think that hurt, you should have seen 'backer Brian Urlacher after the game, when doctors tried to thaw out his frost-bitten fingers.

Like the rest of the world, I had my doubts about the Seahawks, especially when the Redskins' offense gained 58 yards and only lost 17-14 in the divisional playoffs. You just had a feeling, after they snuck by the Bears, that this was the Panthers' season. Yet you can ask most of Carolina's players and they'll tell you they didn't really believe they could beat the Colts until they crushed the Seahawks by 35 in the NFC title game. Then they started thinking, hey, why not us? Trust me, I was in their locker room, I could see it on the faces of The Mikes, as I like to call them: Mike Minter, Mike Rucker and Mike Wahle.

Of course, after the last four weeks covering this league, nothing shocks me anymore. The Colts dominated the Steelers in the divisional round. That wasn't a shock. But when Ben Roethlisberger went down and Bill Cowher put Antwaan Randle El in at quarterback instead of Tommy Maddox, well, that was a bit bizarre. I think that decision really took away from Jerome Bettis' decision to come back for one more year.

And I think it would have received even more attention had the entire country not been focused on the Broncos, who finally came out from under the radar that weekend. Remember? I know. I know. It seems like so long ago now. But really, we should have seen Denver's 34-10 win over the Pats coming from a mile away. I mean, the Broncos were 13-3, and coach Mike Shanahan has been touting this team privately since training camp, and it was only a matter of time before the Pats' joyless pursuit of excellence imploded and suffocated the spirit of that great team. The real test now will be whether new Houston head coach Gary Kubiak can do for David Carr what he did for Jake Plummer.

It was still weird though, wasn't it, to see Bill Belichick after the loss -- the way the expression on his face (or, utter lack thereof) looked about the same as when he was holding up the Lombardi Trophy last year. You'd look that way too if Adam Vinatieri missed three field goals and John Lynch returned a bobbled pass in the end zone by Mike Vrabel 105 yards for a TD. But here's why I love the Pats: just when you think you've seen it all, you look down on the field after the game in Denver and see Belichick, whistle in mouth, making them run wind sprints.

Afterward, the Pats players were completely gassed. And I think that's what happened to the Colts after their epic battle with the Broncos in the AFC championship game. Two overtimes? 1,200 yards total offense? 38-35 after nearly five hours of football? Even with two weeks to rest, I still say that win took something out of the Colts. You play in what people call The Greatest Game Ever -- with all of those injuries, the scrappy play, the halftime fight and the emotional up and down of that reversal on Denver's final TD -- and believe it or not, it can be hard to get back up for even the Super Bowl. (Just ask Bud Light daredevil Ted Ferguson and those female robots from that hilarious commercial, right?)

It didn't look that way at first. The Colts came out flying in Motown, moving the ball up and down the field. But when they failed to get in the end zone in the first half, having to settle for three field goals instead, well, it appeared mental fatigue had set in. Which only makes Fox's decision to wait to spring that scheme on Manning after halftime even more brilliant.

In all my days, I never would have figured you could combine the confusing and disruptive blitz elements of the Pittsburgh FireDog defense with the swarming linebacker play of the 46 Defense and the deep blanket zone passing protection of the Bucs Cover 2. Trust me, RedCatRyanCoverDeuce will go down in history. I know this because the Hall of Fame has already asked for Fox's defensive playbook. My favorite part was the way Morgan stood across the line of scrimmage, only a few feet away from Manning, shouting out adjustments and calls to his players in a way that perfectly mirrored what the quarterback was doing.

Edgerrin James put up a performance in a losing cause that was every bit as dominant and inspirational as what T.O. did in last year's Super Bowl. My gosh he runs the ball hard. But in the end, his 147 yards only helped take time off the clock. And all those tipped balls at the line of scrimmage by Peppers and those two quick scores by Smith to start the fourth quarter, combined with the brilliant RedCatRyanCoverDeuce defense, just proved to be too much for Indy.

Great divisional games, followed by a historic AFC title game and a Super Bowl upset. Can you ask for more? I mean, you couldn't script it any better if you sat down at your computer and made the whole thing up from scratch, while listening to Weezer.

In the end, the games were so good most people didn't care that it hovered around 0-degrees all week in Motown and that because of the weather, Tony Danza was the only celeb who showed up for the festivities. I felt bad for the Panthers, though. Because of the whiteout that hit the Midwest, the team was unable to fly home and had to take a 15-hour bus ride which, I'm told, turned into a 1,000-mile victory parade. I wonder how many times Smith's new catch phrase: "I'm going to Disneyland ... bitches!" was repeated on that trip?

I hear that the official victory celebration is scheduled for Wednesday in balmy Charlotte, N.C., inside Bank of America Stadium. City officials say Ric Flair, Tony Stewart and Tammy Faye Bakker will MC the event, along with the team's notorious TopCat cheerleader squad.

Assuming, that is, that they were all able to make bail after the incident with those Bud Light robots at the Playboy Party in Detroit the night before the game.

David Fleming is a senior writer at ESPN The Magazine. His book, "Noah's Rainbow," a father's emotional journey from the death of his son to the birth of his daughter, can be preordered through Baywood Publishing. Contact him at Dave.Fleming@espn3.com