Larry Csonka turns 70 this Christmas. He was the star fullback for the 1972 Miami Dolphins, which is still the only team to go undefeated and untied through an entire National Football League regular season and then win the Super Bowl. The reason the ’72 Dolphins remain pro football’s only perfect squad: the 2007 Patriots were a mere 75 seconds from matching Miami’s accomplishment until a miracle catch late in Super Bowl XLII by New York Giants wide receiver David Tyree led to the New England team’s lone defeat. Mr. Tyree’s birth date: 1-3-80. Yes, you read that right. The sum of the numbers signifying his birth date is 84. The numbers that comprise Mr. Csonka’s birth date (12-25-43) total 80. There you have it.

Don’t read that again. You were right the first time. Those numbers prove nothing. They’re nonsense. But there are things about human beings in general and Christmas in particular that are even less logical than explaining everything that happens in the universe by citing birth dates of Super Bowl standouts. 

For example: last week an acquaintance approached me with a sour expression on his face. His body language implied he had been seriously wronged, and that he wasn’t going to take it lying down. Emanating righteous indignation, this well-meaning but habitually dissatisfied individual was clearly intent on griping to someone, and a quick check of the area indicated I was the only available outlet for his dissatisfaction.

As this fellow is someone whose annual nice-to-naughty ratio is no better than 50-50, I tried gently suggesting his time might be better spent performing a few random acts of kindness. Better yet, I proposed, why not try counting his many blessings? Doing either of those things would have been a healthier and far more efficient use of his time than droning on about some insignificant issue that in all likelihood was beyond his control. But I’d have had a better chance of talking a swallow out of returning to Capistrano. If there’s anyone more focused on achieving a particular goal than someone determined to be unhappy I haven’t yet met him, her or it.

Ordinarily I’d have quickly and seamlessly morphed into my “Preoccupied with some vitally important task” guise, one which involves adopting an uber-serious visage that implies, “Hey, I’d like to help you with your trivial problems, but civilization’s fate rests upon my accomplishing some specific thing in the next 10 minutes, so please get out of my way before you bring about humanity’s premature extinction.”

But then I remembered: “’tis the season to be jolly,” or some similar claptrap people who are far too un-jolly during the year’s other 11 months spout with faux-cheery regularity at this time of year. And besides, when my friend gets in one of his moods he’s not particularly quick when it comes to recognizing subtle hints. When he’s intent on griping and I am the lone available sounding board he’ll march right up to me and begin airing his litany of grievances whether or not I am involved with something else, wearing an ugly sweater with the words “Go away” embroidered on them, or shrieking curses from inside a 1970’s-era goalie mask while attempting to start a blood-spattered chainsaw. 

It turned out the target of his wrath was the Hannaford cashier who had the temerity to wish him “Happy Holidays” after handling his order at the grocery store earlier that morning. “What’s wrong with, ‘Merry Christmas?’” he asked, adding, “I am so SICK of all this political correctness!”

Skillfully interrupting before he could continue, I suggested that perhaps the woman was just trying to be friendly. He wasn’t buying it, though. His next shrill complaint involved his having been invited to numerous “Holiday Parties,” but not one “Christmas Party.” Two things occurred to me at that moment. First, why would anyone invite this guy to a party of any kind? And second, how can someone who doubts the moon landing was real, still questions the president’s citizenship and suspects climate change is an elaborate Chinese-inspired hoax believe beyond the shadow of a doubt there’s on ongoing war against Christianity? In the words of a little-known but wonderfully wise 20th-century sage, “Irony can be so ironic.”

So how does one express glad tidings and good cheer to the vast majority of his or her fellow human beings without alienating the others?

 Merry Larry Csonka’s birthday, everyone.

— Andy Young teaches at a local high school, where he wages war against illiteracy, but not (to his knowledge) against any particular organized religion.