Sunday, February 04, 2007

The last time I woke up this early and this disoriented on a Super Sunday, that fascinatingly wasteful and extravagant liturgical holiday, the year was 1999. I was half-asleep, but the FAN 590 told me that Atlanta Falcons safety Eugene Robinson had been arrested overnight for soliciting sex from an undercover police officer. Robinson was later beaten by the Broncos' Rod Smith on a deep pass that went for a touchdown. One writer remarked that after Robinson was almost faked out of his shorts on Saturday night, he was almost faked out of them again on Sunday night.

The overall theme of the past forty Super Bowls has been a full-scale assault on all by all the cultural icons of America. Bud Light, Janet Jackson, Tostitos, semi-legal gambling and Vince Lombardi will all feature prominently in today's eight-hour service. This has been the overall theme because the game has historically been a flop. Any dedicated football fan has to take a minute to remember the game itself, a four-hour blur sandwiched between endless hype and endless mythmaking. Today's game will be no different. Peyton Manning will ascend to his throne with the other Quarterback Gods at the hand of Phil Simms and Greg Gumbel, his myth imbued with the threads of Hurricane Katrina and meritocracy.

That means I pick the Colts.

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