I love the Super Bowl more than Eagle fans love to drink, fight and punch police horses in the face — more than Bill Belichick loves to suck the air out of a room at a press conference and more than defensive linemen love a buffet.
It's a national holiday for me. I love old highlights, Roman numerals, somebody going to Disney World and the trophy procession at the end. At my count (40), 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, Brady drive and Emmitt Smith scamper, I could tell you tales of Jack Squirek’s pick-six, Tim Krumrie’s ankle, Eugene Robinson’s hooker, David Tyree’s helmet-hallelujah and Timmy Smith’s big day.
Yesiree, the Super Bowl is my special day. But, like everything that’s awesome, there are things which ruin my bliss. Back in the nineties, I knew a serial clubber. This woman knew nightclubs like Antonio Cromartie knows paternity suits, but she stayed home on New Year’s 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.
It’s not the actual advertisements that I abhor—I actually enjoy some of them. Plus, the fact that morons shell out more than $5 million for a 30-second comedy bit is pretty amazing. But if there’s one boner that bothers me more than sand in a condom, it’s those "I only watch it for the commercials” 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 the fan to whom you said it. 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 you don't care about the game is disheartening. Even if it's true, please keep it to yourself.
Idiots from other countries and media outlets asking the most absurd questions or dredging up unnecessary or imaginary controversy to advance their careers truly grates on me. I cringe when I hear some of these queries and feel the pain of the players who have to put up with it. Then there's the player who says something absurd — Jeramy Stevens in 2006, for example — just to hijack publicity.
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 Li’l 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 that later.
I love dogs. There’s nothing like the companionship of a furry buddy—and I'm not talking about your sister-in-law with the moustache, or your neighbor that really needs to shave his back. But whoever decided 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 the outrageously geriatric Who or Rolling Stones making me do nothing but curse the depressing effect of Father Time on once-cool bad-asses, or Beyoncé attempting to make a political statement, it runs far too long and numbs my brain. For the love of John Facenda and everything that’s holy, can we please bring back Up With People?
The person who never watches sports but complains that athletes get paid too much
I know we should be paying teachers better, and helping to feed the homeless instead of paying Jason Peters eight figures. I get it. But I can't control the spending habits of Robert Kraft, Jeff Lurie and company, and frankly, I 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 more than hoping Gostkowski misses an extra-point so you can win back some frog-skins. Still, there’s always that couple who puts little Cody’s name on a square and that little ‘effer’ wins three quarters in a row, while you go home to 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 win 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 Robert Kraft claiming Patriot persecution and passive-aggressively bashing the suddenly petrified and ass-kissing Robert Goodell. The guy just had his heart ripped out. Give him some time. The answers will be more genuine in la mañana.
So take my advice and avoid these situations and people. That way you have a fighting chance to enjoy the game.