Church was cancelled this morning, due to a nasty bout of winter weather, so I had the entire day to myself. For many folk, that would have meant having extra hours to prepare food and drink for the annual Super Bowl Sunday Party. I have only missed every Super Bowl Sunday game (all 52) over the course of my life. I survived well before the advent of Super Bowl; and, miraculously am still plodding along afterward.
Created by a business merger between the National Football League (NFL) and the American Football League (AFL), Super Bowl Sunday was invented to create a profitable new market. Over the 50+ years since inception, American football has grown to clog the airwaves with sports broadcasts (except for game blackouts, of course, to maintain stadium-ticket sales), tout overpriced game tickets, reserved boxes and sports apparel; and have genuinely inspired the male youth of America to believe that he could one day play for the NFL. Yes, he would be the exception. He would make the cut and earn millions each year, until he could comfortably retire at age 35. The Great American Dream.
An Advertiser’s Mecca
In the interest of unrestrained avarice, the organizers of Super Bowl Sunday make no attempt to constrain the carefully-selected and chosen producers of ‘stuff’ to introduce sporting America to the latest, greatest and undoubtedly best products and services during the game. The opposing soft-drink manufacturers get plenty of airtime, sponsor special segments, etc. and are generally successful in masking their pivotal, causative role in childhood obesity and early-onset Type II diabetes in teens. Suck it up America. There’s not nearly enough sugars in our diet.
Now you’re talkin’. My kind of reason to consider watching a Super Bowl game. I am an avid music promoter. There are always cutting-edge entertainers. Oh, wait! The sound quality is much better on the dozens of music platforms than live in a stadium with tens of thousands of screaming fans.
Excess is Best
Aside from the years my church* used the game occasion to raise money for food pantries, soup kitchens and homeless shelters (called Souper Bowl Sunday), the game is an event to overeat and to drink oneself into oblivion. According to Wikipedia [to which I contribute, because I use it], the game marks the highest consumption of food for the day, topped only by Thanksgiving Day.
I was in university at a time (pre-drug-culture), when everyone drank to excess. We used to celebrate whatever day the laundry came back from the cleaners. Our four-day, party weekends eventually took its toll on my grades. I decided to quit the university before they fired me. The point is: People in America — and guys in particular — need no special event or occasion to end the diet or consume copious quantities of alcohol. “Tap another keg, Boys!” That’s what we do.
Who knows? Maybe one day I will attend a Super Bowl Party. I may even watch part of the game. In fact, I have it on now, at low volume, for white noise as I write. Any closer attention would subject me to the banal, only-occasionally-in-English delivery of play-by-play, or worse yet a coach’s immensely-enlightening recounting of why the stars were, or were not, in alignment for his team today.