It’s here, that magical time of year in America known as Super Bowl Sunday. It’s the high holiday of the American belief system. It’s that day when we celebrate spandex clad warriors smacking one another on the ass in celebration of moving the sacrificial pigskin that extra yard down the field. How we, the fans, will cheer, jeer, and explain why the coaches have no clue what they are doing and offering our suggestions on how each and every play should have been run if the guy calling the plays was even in the least bit confident. Because, after all, merely being a fan of the game fills us with an infinite knowledge of all things football, elevating us to a superior plane of existence then those mere mortals who tout their actually experience as if it were some sort of qualification for coaching a team. Fools.
So today we find two great adversaries about to do combat in a pre-selected arena that spares no creature comforts for our fine warriors. From the barren wastelands better known as Pittsburgh comes the Steelers who are of course led by Omar Epps Mike Tomlin who, despite not sitting in his recliner and drinking beer whilst enjoying a hearty bowl of nachos and yelling at the television, has some vague notions about what it takes to lead his team to victory. Yes, how the down-trodden denizens of the Three Rivers cry “Huzzah!” every time this man steps on the field, clip board in hand, ready to bring glory to their once mighty kingdom. It is fair to say that there are some other guys who help him out, but most of them aren’t routinely mistaken for being a Hollywood star.
Opposing these might men of steel are the Arizona Cardinals. That’s right, Arizona is home to a professional sports team. They are, in fact, home to no fewer than 4 professional sports teams, all of whom share the defining quality that no one really cares. That is, until now. Oh how the Cardinals have lifted the hopes of those nomadic peoples of the Arizona wastes, waking them from their dreary slumbers as the scratch their heads wondering “Wait, when did we get a professional football team?” Arizonaites, you have arrived! With your none-to-menacingly named Cardinals you shall march out on to the field of battle prepared to show the entire world you really are a state! Arizona is led by their quarterback, Kurt Warner, best known as “the guy who was in a bunch of ads for soup.” This journeyman quarterback has inspired the hopes and dreams of two guys who work concessions at the stadium and is now ready to bring his team to the big game.
I for one wait with baited breath, beer in hand as I mentally prepare myself to witness the Super Bowl spectacle. While those all knowing odds makers his sit high in their neon lit Vegas towers have bestowed their blessing upon the Steelers I can’t help but wonder if once again the Cardinals are being overlooked, or downright forgotten. In fact the entire NFC forgot about them, but time and time again they reminded them that indeed, really they have a football team, and apparently a good one at that! My heart often goes out to the underdogs, but as I am also afraid of incurring my mothers wrath I find it hard to bestow my own blessing upon either of these champions. Today one team will emerge victorious, lifted upon the shoulders of their adoring fans, many animals sacrificed to barbeque pits in their names. The other team will leave the field, their heads hung low as they limp back to their multi-million dollar homes, forgotten and unloved by those fans who have been wearing their lucky logo emblazoned t-shirt, unwashed all season long in order to help elevate their team.
Yes, it is here, the Super Bowl. No matter who reigns triumphant we all wish for the same thing, some really kick ass commercial spots. Because after all, what’s the Super Bowl without the commercials?
Just a Man with a Mash Paddle 