I’m jet-lagged after spending at least 900 hours watching the Super Bowl yesterday.
When I first moved to New Zealand in 1993, I remember taking a wee nap at the start of an All Blacks’ rugby match. Yes, that’s a capital offense in NZ, but I was new. Anyway, when I woke up, the game was over. Boom. Yesterday, I could have been in a coma for months only to wake up with the game STILL in the second quarter. There is a lot to be said for rugby’s pace.
Although part of me wanted my old stomping grounds to look good on the global stage, I am thrilled to bits that Jerry Jones has pissed in his Post Toasties live, and in front of a billion people globally. And while the cantilevered Cowboys Stadium roof had to be closed due to inclement weather, Jerry’s cantilevered mouth remained open, and all kinds of stupid poured out. Atta boy Jerruh. Get a rope.
You have to believe that Green Bay would have won this game even if Superman, Ironman and the X-men had played for Pittsburgh. The Packers lost, what, 900 starters to injury, had 900 dropped passes, and were out-numbered in rabid fans 900 to 1? But the Force of Vince was upon them.
I got sick to death of watching the same TV ads for UK sports programs over and over and over. But now, having watched all Super Bowl ads on line, not so much. Overview: I’d test drive VW and Chryslers, never again eat a Dorito, and don’t get why Joan Rivers wasn’t freeze dried years ago. Or was she?
Having watched the hideously heinous Black Eyed Peas, is there ANYONE who doesn’t think that my idea of allowing armed fans to shoot at Cartier turkeys dropped from the JumboTron would have been a better way to spend halftime? And next year? I feel it in my bones that the NFL has already inked the halftime act for SB XLVI. Baby, baby, baby, ack.
Sure, Ben Roethlisberger may be a douche. But the paparazzi who filmed Ben and his linemen buddies having a beer at a good ol’ Texas watering hole, and who then sold the footage to TMZ? That skank should be dressed as Uncle Sam and dropped in the middle of downtown Cairo. Let him film THAT and reap his just desserts.
I miss John Madden more than I miss chicken enchiladas. And that is saying a lot. Yesterday’s lame announcers made not one funny comment about 340-pound linemen who look like they’ve eaten a Volkswagen Beetle? Not a single “BOOM” after big hits, or “like hogs on ice” comments when players slipped down, or “Arrrraaarrrahhrrraaaa that’s what Brett Favre could do for you”. I am filled with a Madden Vacuum that can only be filled by… (Although there is young announcing talent out there just waiting to be discovered.)
And to my friend Todd who mortgaged his homestead and bet it all on his beloved Steelers winning 22-17, hang in there buddy. I’m sure your wife will forgive everything. Except maybe the horses going to the Purina plant…
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