Super Bowl XLVIII
By Jeffrey Kieviet
Of Bowls & Balls
So there were sports this weekend. Football, right? The one where they kick the ball with their foot. But only a little bit, the rest of the time they hold the ball in their hands and run with it. Or they throw it, but not into the basket… because there is no basket. But there’s still a goal at the end of the field, they just have to carry the ball there… or catch it there. But don’t throw the ball through the goal, you have to kick it through the goal… which is why they call it football. Nailed it.
As fellow Screwhead Casey Moriarty may have mentioned, we spent Super Bowl Sunday in the theatre because we’re pompous poufs who would rather watch a gay guy talk about ancient Greek literature than watch a bunch of sweaty beasts manhandle each other. I guess we’re a little queer that way. However, to boast our manliness, we were at a bar getting a little grub before the show and the main event was on the TV there. We got to see Queen Latifah sing the National Anthem (America the Beautiful). And then another lady (Renée Fleming) sang the real National Anthem (The Star-Spangled Banner). I clearly know as much about American Anthems as I do about sports. I’m still voting we turn Kid Rock’s “Bawitaba” into the national anthem, because at least that’s honest. And then the game started.
Based on what little knowledge of sports I have, I saw the Seahawks return the kickoff for the quickest touchdown in Super Bowl history. But I guess, in reality, Denver f*cked up big time and fumbled the ball on their first play, allowing the Seahawks to score a safety, which is the fastest score in Super Bowl history, just 12 seconds in. More things happened, but it was basically just more of that. Denver Broncos did stupid, stupid things and Seattle Seahawks scored massive brownie points. Aren’t sports fun? There were stats and scores and people’s last names and shouting and Blue 42 and other things that remind us of ancient Roman battles, gladiators tearing each other’s heads off in the coliseum, but now there are rules, referees, and much less disembowelment. But somehow these games have replaced our blood lust with
butt slaps and “get ‘er done”s.
At the end of the day, Seahawks won by a shitload and Broncos only scored 4 baskets, 8 homeruns, or the equivalent of 1 dart in the big part of the 8 point section of the dart board. I am not partial to either of these teams, but my sister went to college in Boulder, CO (where I & fellow Screwhead Average Bill had a lot of fun getting drunk in the snow) and fellow Screwhead Derek Hobson lives in Seattle, so I don’t know who to root for. I’m just glad I didn’t lose money on the game. All over facebook I saw people calling this the “worst Super Bowl in history,” and since all my facebook friends are sports historians, I’m going to have to take them at their word. This isn’t the kind of sports people like to watch, we like watching Wipe Out or American Ninja Warrior where crazy things happen and you never know what’s coming next. In this game, only one thing happened (Seattle scored) and everyone knew what was next (Seattle scored again).
So let’s talk about what should have happened. There was a lot of hype (high-pe) about the two states that have legalized marijuana making it to the Super “Bowl” (there’s a lot of puns in there but none of them worked out… see kids, this is why weed is illegal). Some idiot scheduled a massive test of physical endurance in a place in this country that has begun to look a lot like the frozen gates of hell. Casey was recently in New York and his flight was delayed because the ANTI-FREEZE in the airplane F*CKING FROZE! These teams should have been sent to Jamaica (or Puerto Rico, if the Super Bowl needs to stay within the USA), gotten their game on, and then been pushed onto the smoking field to play some good ol’ fashion two-hand-touch. And then Mark Ruffalo should have walked out, said “I’m always angry,” and then beat everyone to a pulp. That is a game people would have been proud to watch. I mean, I’m all for no home team advantage, but couldn’t they have let these guys play their game somewhere with a modicum of comfort? And what’s more comfortable then a “Super” Bowl… bong… I want some nachos.
Anyway, last but not least, let’s talk about the real reason to watch the Super Bowl: the commercials and the halftime show. If you’re getting all defensive, remember this: almost 4 million more people tuned into the halftime show than the game. Sorry sports fans, the two guys in the monster truck from the superb Charlie Sheen car chase film, “The Chase,” are more popular than all of football. Red Hot Chili Peppers (aforementioned guys from The Chase [Flea & Anthony Kiedis]) & Bruno Mars put on one of the best halftime shows ever! Or the worst halftime show ever!!! Depends on who you ask. Whom you ask? Whatever. My favorite will always be Aerosmith & N’Sync because without N’Sync, we wouldn’t have Justin Timberlake & Janet Jackson’s nipple. That’s right, they share a nipple. It belongs to both of them now.
And now for the commercials. Some were funny, some were stupid, watch them on youtube and veg out for the day, do what you gotta do. But here’s the important one: Scarlett Johansson tried to make this world a better place. Soda is one of the worst things you can put in your body (ok, there are a lot of worse things, but there’s also many better things, like whatever ScarJo was trying to sell us by rubbing her lips on it), and there was this commercial for a soda replacement that’s much better for you (I’m sure it’s still crap, but less crappy. One step at a time America!). And, if used correctly, less waste, few plastic bottles, etc. etc. At the end of the commercial, she apologizes to both Coca-Cola and Pepsi because whatever she sucks through a straw will automatically put both companies out of business. Now, for those of you keeping score (43-8), Pepsi and Coke are huge sponsors of the football, and they were pissed. I guess they eventually aired an edited version of the commercial, but in defiance, and in closing, here is the woman of your dreams doing things with her mouth that make you think of your… kickoff? God I’m bad with sports metaphors… penis.