“You got your snacks in my football!” “You got your football in my snacks!”
This week all of Planet Earth is clearing its weekend calendar, stocking up on snacks, upgrading their TVs, and preparing for the greatest spectacle in American football. Super Bowl XLVII hits the airwaves this Sunday, February 3rd, as the San Francisco 49ers and the Baltimore Ravens will face each other at the Mercedes-Benz Superdome down in New Orleans. Here in Indianapolis, Colts fans are disappointed that rookie quarterback Andrew Luck didn’t carry the entire team to the grand finale on his back, but they’ve consoled themselves with the knowledge that those infernal New England Patriots didn’t make it either.
As mentioned in previous entries, I’m not a sports fan, so the Super Bowl usually holds no meaning for me. I’m not even one of those casual viewers who attends a bona fide Super Bowl party to gorge on refreshments and watch the world’s most expensive new TV commercials. My family has its own Super Bowl Sunday traditions, none of which involve feigning sports interest for a day or being invited to parties by other people. It’s just not our thing.
For the space of a few hours, last year’s Super Bowl XLVI was a slightly different story.