The NFL crowned two conference champions Sunday and the Super Bowl LX matchup has been set. It’s New England’s Patriots vs. the Los Angeles Rams in Santa, Clara, Calif., on Feb. 8. For the LXth time – that’s 60^th for you non-Romans – it will not include a team from Houston. Also, if you’re counting (and I am), this became the 45th year in a row that a team from Houston failed to even reach the penultimate game, never mind the ultimate one.

Our fair city’s record in the Division Round since the Oilers pulled off the Mission Valley Miracle in San Diego in the 1979 playoffs, beating the Air Coryell Chargers without Dan Pastorini, Earl Campbell and Ken Burrough? That would be 0-11. Afraid so.

During said sad span, the Warren Moon-era Oilers went 0-4, stumbling in 1987, 1991, 1992 – when, as you may recall while recoiling again in horror, they led the Bills 35-3 in the middle of the third quarter – and also 1993. As for the Texans, after going belly up at New England last weekend, they are 0-7, having succumbed in 2011, 2012, 2016, 2019, 2023, 2024 and 2025.

All of their losses have been to the Patriots (three) and Ravens (two) and the Chiefs (two). Their Buffalo meltdown equivalent was the 24-0 second-quarter lead they squandered in Kansas City six Januarys ago, back when we thought Deshaun Watson was the future of the franchise.

Is there any consolation to be found in the fact that four of the Texans’ six defeats this season were to the four conference finalists by a combined 28 points? That’s for you to decide. Me, I’m tired of finding any consolation is losing.

It’s fair for you to ask what any of this has to do with wine? Welp, it has caused me to drink probably too much of same. In the weeks ahead, I’ll be sharing my favorites consumed over the course of this holiday season and yet another non-dry January, a personal streak that goes back as far as I’ve been of legal age.

Oh, if you’re wondering about the identity of the dapper gent pictured above, he will figure prominently in my next blog. That’s Salvatore Ferragamo of, yes, that Ferragamo family, except, as he’s proud to say, he’s the “farmer” in the bunch. I was tasting with Ferragamo last Sunday at Murray’s Wine & Cheese – crazy good pie, by the way – while C. J. Stroud was busily throwing his four first-half interceptions.

Fortunately, Murray’s didn’t have a TV so I was spared the misery first-hand. Also, fortunately, Ferragamo’s wines are outstanding, including a beautiful bottle of bubbles. Much more to come on that.

Cheers!