We don’t watch football – but we do have a Superbowl ritual. We’re suckers for game food – hot wings, nachos and guacamole and if there’s an unofficial day to officially serve them, well, why the Hell not. Plus, the Superbowl is one shot. One game. I can handle one game.
Unlike the past Superbowl games, with the Jets and Giants, I didn’t really care who won Superbowl 2014. But I expected two teams to play, at least. This game was like watching a live suicide. Oh, die already. Now I know how Vikings fans feel.
All week, I thought about taking the boys to Times Square’s Superbowl alley after school. As the game progressed, I was glad I didn’t. All the fanfare and the event was nothing but a hyped up dud.
My boys were sent to bed right after the half time show. They were reluctant as usual and whining, “we wanna see the Broncos score something!”
I told them, if and when they do, it’ll be too little, too late. Was I right, huh? Huh?
That’s why being a sports fan sucks. These athletes are worshipped and paid a shit load of money and what do they do – choke at the Superbowl. Peyton Manning just wasn’t hungry enough. An unfortunate drawback of being a rich athlete – having the chops and no game. He lost it and never got it back. Not like Michael Phelps who used his loss to come back like a bat out of hell. I have no problem with him – he nice boy.
That’s what the average schmuck is waiting for in a superstar – for them to dig deep and find the spirit that whimsically pranced over to the opponent. That hefty paycheck is impressive, yes – but complacency is just boring. Nobody respects that crap. If you’re going to get soft and happy, build a state of the art Karaoke room and lock yourself away. Otherwise, go bankrupt if you have to but don’t show up for battle with manicured hands. Or sell out to a car commercial…Bob.