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I love the Super Bowl more than Antonio Brown loves to brand, more than Bill Belichick loves to exploit rules, more than James Harrison loves to work out and more than defensive linemen love a buffet.
It's a national holiday for me. I love old highlights, Roman numerals, somebody going to Disneyland and the trophy procession at the end. At my count (39), I’ve been mentally cognizant of every Super Bowl since Dallas crushed the orange out of Denver in Super Bowl XII. For every Bradshaw bomb, Montana rally, Manning miracle and Emmitt Smith scamper, I could tell you tales of Squirek’s pick-six, Krumrie’s ankle, Eugene Robinson’s hooker, Tyree’s helmet-hallelujah and Timmy Smith’s big day.
Yesiree, the Super Bowl is my special day. But like everything that is awesome, there are things that ruin my bliss. Back in the nineties, I knew a serial-clubber. This woman knew nightclubs like Antonio Cromartie knows paternity suits. However, she stayed home on New Years Eve because she called it “amateur night”. To me, that’s what the Super Bowl has become. The people that never watch a down of football invade gatherings that reduce Super Bowl fever to a touchdown tummy-ache and that’s what sucks the summer out of my sausage.
With this in mind, I've compiled a list of ten things that I hate about the greatest day of my year.
Commercials
It’s not the actual advertisements that I abhor, I actually enjoy some of them. Plus, the fact that morons shell out over $5 million for a 30-second comedy bit is pretty amazing. But there’s that one boner who bothers me more than sand in a condom, it’s the "I only watch it for the commercial” people.
If that’s you and you’ve ever said that in your lifetime, you need to grab a bucket of wings and apologize to that fan you said it to. It's as offensive as a thong at a funeral. I’ll say it again...OFFENSIVE!
These guys are playing their hearts out for a championship and there are people that want to absorb every throw, catch and tackle. To diminish that by saying that you don't care about the game is disheartening. Even if it's true, keep it to yourself.
Media Day
Idiots from other countries and media outlets asking the most absurd questions or dredging up unnecessary controversy to advance their careers grates on me. I cringe when I hear some of these queries and feel the pain of the players that have to put up with it.
Uncoordinated Food at Super Bowl parties
If you’re going to a Super Bowl party, find out what other people are bringing. We don't need four crock pots of "Little Smokies” or some weird dip that Guy Fieri dreamed up on a coke-binge. Also, buying a bag of Tostitos and tossing it on the counter is unimaginable and shows little respect for the game.
Healthy Choices at a Super Bowl
For the love of Casey Hampton, Stop it!! Tofurkey and three-bean salads have no place on my pigskin table. I know my colon needs cleansing, but let's talk about it later.
Dogs
I love dogs. There is nothing like the companionship of a furry buddy and I'm not talking about your sister-in-law with a moustache, or your neighbor that really needs to shave his back. But whoever decided that it's okay to televise a dog show on the most sacred sports day of the year should be spayed and neutered themselves.
Also, what the freak is the Puppy Bowl? Somebody please explain this one to me. The idea of a schnauzer throwing a pick-six or a Pomeranian punting inside-the-20 is, to quote Wallace Shawn from The Princess Bride...”Inconceivable!”
Extended Halftime and the subsequent entertainment that follows
I hate to badmouth the Super Bowl that allowed me to actually see Janet Jackson’s nipple and the terribly uncoordinated “Left Shark”, but this is becoming crappy. Whether it's a terribly geriatric Who or Rolling Stones making me do nothing but curse the depressing effect of Father Time on cool badasses or Beyoncé attempting to make a political statement, it runs too long and numbs my brain.
The person that never watches sports and complains that athletes get paid too much
I know we should be paying teachers better and help feed the homeless instead of paying Julio Jones eight figures. I get it. But I can't control the spending habits of Robert Kraft, Arthur Blank and company, and frankly don't want to discuss it during the game. When the Red Zone’s a rockin’, don’t come a talkin’.
When somebody puts their kid’s name on a gambling square...and the kid wins
I’m usually the guy pushing the squares and I get where that could be annoying sometimes. But nothing helps a one-sided game than hoping Gostkowski misses an extra-point so you can win back some frog skins. But there’s always that couple that puts little Johnny’s name on a square and that little ‘effer’ wins three quarters in a row, while you go home and heat up some Ramen for your work thermos.
The MVP getting a car
I know I just bashed amateurs that complain about player salaries. But watching an athlete winning a car and having to fake his gratitude for a car he doesn't want or need, while the president of the car manufacturer undeservingly is standing on the podium sporting the grin of the Joker and a clammy handshake really stinks. Especially when you have to sign the cross and pray that your Ford Festiva will actually make the three-mile trek home without stranding you on Skid Row.
Interviewing the losing coach
This is almost as painful to watch as the Lady Gaga halftime extravaganza. The guy just had his heart ripped out. Give him some time. The answers will be more genuine in la mańana.
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So take my advice and avoid these situations and people. That way you have a fighting chance to enjoy the game.