Super Bowl LIII. Was looking forward to it. I grew up following the Rams, so it was cool that they were, once again, playing in the final NFL game of the season versus “that” team from the east. I did not wager on the game, did not really have a ‘pony-in-the-race’, nor did it truly matter to me who ended up hoisting the Lombardi trophy. I wanted it to be LA, but it was okay with me should it be Bill, Tom and the other uniformed Patriots. The SB was not life or death for me this year.
As a sports enthusiast, I settled into my seat with my kinfolk, eager to see a “super” game. Ten minutes in, delight disappeared, anticipation was altered and excitement evaporated. After two weeks of hype and the promotional crescendo, the hyperBOWLe of the BIG game went unmatched by the play on the field. The scorekeeper fell asleep. Points hard to come by. It was EASIER to sneak into the USA than to enter the end zone. Roman spectators in the original Coliseum would’ve thrust their thumbs downward at the unspectacular spectacle.
I spent more time in the kitchen than in front of the TV. The bottle of Elmer’s went unused. Was glued, instead, to conversations with family, little kids running around the living room and a bowl of tasty snacks. Even the highly-awaited commercials could not hold my attention. I walked to the bathroom. Slowly. DURING the game! Didn’t mind standing in line in the hallway. I wasn’t missing anything, anyway.
It is rare that the outcome of one of these championship games lives up to the non-stop build up. The hope is that the game, halftime show and commercials keep us riveted to our seats. Sponsors shell out millions betting we will. THEIR hope is we are entertained and enthralled for hours. OUR hope is for one of the best games of the season. Sunday’s game proved, once again, that “Super” was a misnomer.
The best football action during the Super Bowl telecast, ironically, was during one of its commercials. It was a two-minute spot heralding the NFL’s 100th season kicking off in the fall of 2019. There was more excitement and drama, more passes, catches and tackles in that 120 second ad than in the entire 60 minutes of REAL football played under the Atlanta dome.
I realize that the Super Bowl has become more of a worldwide social event than a major sporting event. More party than pigskin. More food than football. Community over celebration. It’s fun to go to a social setting with a sports theme. That said, TRUE fans of the two teams take it seriously. You’ve seen them. They wear the team colors. Jerseys and full body paint. Paul Revere hats and helmets with horns. Some watch it solo, not wanting to be distracted by fun. Nobody rootin’ for the enemy team allowed on the premises. Football fanaticism on display at its finest hour.
When it’s all said and done, when the final ticks have tocked and the correct confetti colors rain from heaven, one team is elated, one team dejected. One team celebrates, one commiserates. One team is going to Disneyland, the other going into depression. I think both teams can hold their heads high, as they both had successful seasons. I know “they” say second place is no good, but there were 30 other teams watching from home that would sacrifice a limb just to play in that game.
From this spectator’s point of view, Super Bowl 53 was an opportunity to hang with loved ones, get a reprieve from my diet, catch up on the latest with family, argue gridiron strategy with the younger generation and let the potato chips fall where they may. The team I rooted for didn’t win, but that did not prevent me from having a good time. The game may have been a dud, but my time spent with family was super…and THAT was what mattered. I hope all fans can say that.
After the players left the field, the stadium was cleaned and the lights were turned off. I am already looking forward to Super Bowl 54. I sure hope someone woke up the scorekeeper!