HOUSTON--While many of you were shoveling ice, spinning your wheels and reloading the firewood bin last week, I was busy at work, swapping dozens upon dozens of e-mail messages with frantic Carolina Panthers fans.

From Albemarle to Alaska they poured in, even two or three from dear old Angier. Several even came from outside the country, all with an undertone of sheer panic.

All of those folks, you see, were worried that at this crucial moment, I would let them down and predict a Panthers victory over New England in today's Super Bowl.

I don't mind telling you that this is putting a lot of responsibility on one lowly sportswriter. Shucks, I feel like John Kasay preparing for a 45-yard field-goal attempt with two seconds left and the Panthers down by two.

"If you break the pattern, you'll have to live with the guilt for the rest of your miserable life," advised one Panthers fan.

"Please, please, please! Please pick the Pats," begged another.

All of this started two weeks ago when I casually picked Philadelphia to whip the Panthers in the NFC championship game. Donovan McNabb, I predicted, would dominate the game.

It must have been the perfect jinx. The Panthers took McNabb out of the game and cruised to a 14-3 victory. That's usually how it goes in this business. Let a sportswriter predict daybreak, and a 24-hour eclipse will follow.

In truth, my reverse karma predates those printed words in favor of Philadelphia. Heck, I didn't think the Panthers had a chance at St. Louis, either. I figured the Rams would win by about 10 points. Instead, they lost 29-23 in double overtime.

Even after the Panthers started the season 5-0, including road wins at Tampa Bay and Indianapolis, I didn't think they would finish better than 9-7. They went 11-5 in the regular season.

Where the Panthers are concerned, my name should be Doubting Thomas Tudor.

Yet, here they are, 60 minutes from pro football immortality. Again, they are the underdogs, just as they were against the Eagles and Rams. Again, they'll face a big-name quarterback. Again, the Panthers are the no-names in their matchup.

We've seen this before.

We saw it when baseball's Florida Marlins beat the New York Yankees in the World Series last fall.

The 1983 N.C. State basketball team also comes to mind.

I just closed my eyes for a second, and Seabiscuit galloped through my brain. I closed them again, and there was Harry Truman with a smile as wide as a Missouri cornfield, holding up that newspaper with the "Dewey Wins!" headline.

All last week, I kept seeing reruns of Joe Namath rejoicing at the end of the third Super Bowl. Some golfer named Ben Curtis keeps creeping into my dreams. Instead of a cap, he's got the British Open trophy, of all things, on top of his head.

The Patriots are from Boston, and the Panthers have a player named Buckner. It's Brentson Buckner, not Bill; the Pats, not the Red Sox. But you have to admit, it's eerie. Any serious sports fan knows full well that the Curse of the Bambino is no urban legend.

And get this: Brentson Buckner went to Clemson, a baffling winner over North Carolina in a basketball game Saturday. How's that for an omen?

When you stop and think about it, there are some good reasons -- and some supernatural ones -- to pick the Panthers.

Fear not, Panther fans. I didn't come all this way to abandon my convictions at the first, second and third hints of trouble. My resolve is stronger than that. I'm not about to let down my home state and my many pen pals.

It'll be Pats 23, Panthers 20 in overtime.

If that isn't enough to jinx New England, I don't know what is. The Pats won by the same score when they last played in Houston's Reliant Stadium, Nov. 23 against the Texans.

For good measure, the McNabb jinx is hereby foisted on Pats kicker Adam Vinatieri, who'll win it on a 30-yard field goal. That would make the line of scrimmage the 13-yard line. The time remaining: 13:13. The last thing Vinatieri will see before the snap? A big black cat, the Panthers mascot, just beyond the end zone.