Hey, I’m not going to have the piece I planned to write for today. Tomorrow, I hope.
But it’s The big finale of the National Football League season, and for better or worse, football remains an area of interest for me. I’m not a fan anymore—nothing fanatical about my allegiances these days. I’m more of an interested observer. But we will have guests over and we watch the game (and commercials) and partake of the dreaded halftime dip (a chip dip that sets off nutritional alarms from as much as a lock away; a dip so unhealthy that it is only allowed to be served once a year.)
ASIDE: My nominee for best Super Bowl Commercial Ever! Follow the link! Even if you’ve seen it before, you’ll laugh. And you might notice some of the subtler touches like the lint roller.
Rooting Interests
My son and his family are big Eagles fans, and I appreciated all that Saquon Barkley did for the Giants, so I will be rooting for the Iggles.
I have already reminded Ben that I was an Eagles fan long before he was born. I adopted the Eagles in my early teens, when Norm Van Brocklin was flinging footballs about with Sonny Jurgenson sitting as QB1 in waiting.
I was in front of the tube in 1960 when the Eagles won an NFL Championship. The game marked the last time an American professional football player was on the field for every snap of a game. (Fifty points for Gryffindor if you write back to me with the name of the player.)
But I moved to Cleveland. By 1964, my allegiance had shifted to the Browns. I was in the house in 1964 when the Browns defeated the Baltimore Colts, and the Brownies won their last professional championship.
I root for the NY Giants these days; not an easy job, I’ll assure you. And as a Giants supporter, I’m supposed to hate the Eagles. Nope, no way. I don’t believe in hate—not in sports rivalries. Time to put that word away. It’s dangerous.
So, today is a football Sunday —Super Bowl Sunday.
ASIDE: Did you know that the International Roman Numeral Association pays off the National Football League to keep using roman numerals to identify its Super Bowls? The Romanumeralati slip the NFL commissar a million or two, every year, just to keep the dopey LMNIXXs in place. That’s what I heard, anyway, or at least, I read. It was on the Internet, so I’m sure it’s true.
More talk about “The Big Game” tomorrow. Stay tuned,
Anon.
Ridge