With all the gala preparation of the ancient games and Coliseum events in ancient empires, the day is here again, and some 45 advertisers will spend $4.5 million dollars for 30 seconds to convince us to buy their products or services. People like me who know little about the Seahawks or Broncos will eat too much, alternately cheer and groan as mere mortals try to attain sports immortality, and in the end, be little affected by the whole shebang. Yet, here it comes again, Superbowl Sunday.
I suppose getting the whole country to rally around one event is an event in itself. Few will be unaffected by it. Our local food store has football shaped cakes on very separated tables lauding each team. I was struck by the great distance between the two display tables. Prices are dutifully raised on chips, dips, meatballs, franks, and other “bad for the diet and one’s health foods”, and we will be hard-pressed to watch any other programming tonight. Sure, families and friends will gather, fans or not, and may still depart friends. Much beer will be guzzled, leading to personalities affected by more than merely the game, and it may take days to get the stains out of carpets and chase down every crumb from beneath sofa cushions, but perhaps it’s all good.
And the actual fans who say, “I went to the Superbowl” will remember numb fingers, toes, noses, and earlobes, the extremely high fees paid to sit and suffer in the New Jersey winter, will pay dearly for hotel rooms where they spend an inordinately short time, and will face inevitable travel difficulties just for the privilege. Hopefully, they will find some happiness in knowing they’ve participated in an annual event all too soon forgotten as the world stops for just a couple of hours to worship football.
Winners? Who knows? The trophy will sit somewhere. The rings will weigh down stubby fingers. The memories will fade. But for today, we’re supposed to be as excited as the ancient gladiator matches or this month’s Olympics.
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