All the predictions you need to have while watching the Super Bowl

Memory is faulty, but over time my Super Bowl predictions are more plus than minus, although I admit to picking Atlanta over New England and the Chargers over the 49ers, a stubborn defiance of dynasties.

It is a sportswriter’s obligation to claim he knows more than he does, an occupational luxury, but invariably he is rooting for the story rather than the result.

So what to make of another Philadelphia-Kansas City tug and tussle? There is no underdog, the happy hook for the iconoclast. That dependable bookmaking gauge, the point spread, seems a shaky obligation. Someone must be favored, right?

Kansas City, out of habit more than conviction, gets the slight nod and imagining shady bookies in visors with No. 2 pencils toiling at their tasks to come up with the point or point and half conclusion should be enough for applause and the friendly wager. Ah, if it only ended there.

Poor Vince Lombardi, after whom the trophy is named. His “winning is the only thing” decree is as out of touch as the leather helmet or the knee pad. Winning or losing the game does not matter as much as the color the Gatorade poured onto the winning coach. (If the Chiefs win, pick blue.)

Indifference to winning or losing boggles the mind and diminishes the contest. I am speaking, of course, of the recent sport malignance known as the “prop” bet.

These are the burdens to frivolous opinions and a nuisance to those of us who have spent many years pretending to know more than we do. Real money changes hands. In the several billions, I believe.

Duty is as duty does. I will try to help.

Where once it would be enough for a columnist’s opinion on who will win, now he must consider if Jon Batiste is going over or under two minutes singing the National Anthem.

Two thoughts on this. I have no idea who Jon Batiste is, nor he me, I am sure. A better bet might be why? Secondly, it has occurred to me lately that all of us have become Francis Scott Key, waking up each morning wondering if our flag is still there.

Here is the over/under on the anthem. 120.5 seconds. If I must make a choice, take the over. Singers tend to stretch “home of the br-a-a-a-ave” like a two-point conversion. And this is just the beginning of the “props.”

Next is the coin flip. Easy enough. Heads. Tails. Take heads. The Chiefs have won the last two Super Bowls taking heads. Good enough for me.

Which team will commit the first penalty? Take the Eagles. The Chiefs are never penalized.

What will be the last score before halftime, touchdown, field goal, safety? Field goal.

Halftime is the stew pot of “props.” How many songs will there be, eight, 10, 12? The answer is none. Kendrick Lamar does not sing. There has not been a song at halftime since Bruno Mars.

Will Taylor Swift join Lamar at halftime? Will Travis Kelce propose? How many times will Swift be shown on TV? Too many Swiftie “props” to consider.

Game “props” exist. How many rushing yards will Saquon Barkley have? Under 120.

How many passing yards will Patrick Mahomes have? Over 250.

How many receptions will Kelce have? Under 6.5, not counting the postgame clinch.

How many injuries will the Eagles “tush push” cause? Not as important as how long will it take to peel back the bodies? 25 seconds, or five seconds longer if 365-pound tackle Jordan Mailata is on the bottom.

How many receiving yards will Eagles receiver A.J. Brown have? Under 75.

I could go on and on. The “props” are endless and tedious, and worst of all, unopposed by the NFL, as is betting itself. The game is being held in a Caesars property, after all.

Prevailing wisdom — the only kind that matters these days — has it that because of “props” the game is more exciting, the fans more involved, the TV ads higher priced.

And yet, in the end, it will only matter who wins. And it will be the Eagles 28-24.