Once in a great while I try to offer up some detailed analysis around here. I will soon know who is going to win Sunday's game. There is one key all the reporters are missing...

... my ice fishing trip in the morning.

I am a terribly unlucky guy. I can't win a bet to save my life, can't flop an ace when I need one, and certainly am the opponent you will play when your quarterback Tom Brady throws for six touchdowns in fantasy football. Once in awhile I catch a break, but for the most part it's all or nothing, usually the latter.

This oddity extends to my personal life too. I seem to go on streaks amidst the devastation. I'll catch a break here, a break there, and seemingly everything is on a roll in the right direction. Much like bad things, these moments of victory always seem to come in threes. I'm due another one of these mini trios of triumph and I expect to powers to be to fully let me know tomorrow morning where the cards (no pun intended) are falling this week.

I will hit the frozen ice on the cranberry bogs of Wisconsin around 6 a.m. Thursday morning. It will be refreshing to hit the brisk Wisconsin air, but more importantly to hit the many bluegills that reside in this red stained mini piece of heaven. It's always the same at the bogs, you either hook your limit in an hour, or you go home empty handed and dejected. In my life, there is no better way to forecast the future.

Unfortunately, it's so simple for me that I almost don't want to go. If I don't hammer them tomorrow I will know without a shed of a doubt the Packers are going to lose on Sunday. I will also probably lose my wallet on Saturday. Yet, I take this trek still knowing full well that the hopes of Packer nation firmly rests on my shoulders. It is a duty I willingly accept, but the burden I carry along with me is prodigious.

I promise to bring my best game and do my part to bring the trophy back to Titletown.

I'll let you know who to put your money on tomorrow night.