Published February 5, 2006 in the Hibbing Daily Tribune
By Aaron J. Brown
Do you remember how kids used to fight in junior high school? Kid “A” and Kid “B” would get worked up over a missing lunch or who gets the back seat in English class. Though no actual fight took place, everyone assumed that the feud would continue after school. By the end of the day, the friends of kids A and B had built the potential fight into a momentous occasion that would shape the future of the school, thus, the World.
The Super Bowl is like that. Today’s football broadcast will likely resemble the awkward shoves and overrated wordplay that you might remember from that junior high clash. “I’m gonna break your face.” “Na-uh, I’m going to break YOUR face.” (Slap, slap, grunt, covertly seek exit plan, wipe nose, strut away.)
Just as when we witnessed this school ordeal, we now make similar realizations about the Super Bowl. “Why is the third quarter taking so long?” “Why is this halftime show so bad?” Oh, we’ll watch it – but later, we’ll wonder why.
Today is a really bad day for people who hate football. At least I actually like football. I follow the regular season and participate in fantasy football, which is like a mutant offspring of illegal gambling and the anarchist movement of the 1890s. Point is: I’m a lover, not a hater. It’s just hard for the Super Bowl to live up to the hype.
This year, the Seattle Seahawks will play the Pittsburgh Steelers. They’re evenly matched, so it should be a pretty good game. Still, it’s hard for me to generate a lot of fan loyalty for one or the other. I could back the Steelers in honor of my home on the Iron Range, which provides the ore used in steel. Or I could back the Seahawks, who were my favorite team for about a month and a half when I was 7 because I liked their helmets. Tough call.
The game used to be just that, a game. Now the 30-second TV spots and halftime entertainment acts take most of America’s attention.
This year’s halftime show is The Rolling Stones. You shouldn’t be allowed to be the headline band for Super Bowl XL if your prime recording years occurred between Super Bowls I and IX. Rock critics admire the Stones for holding on to past glory, but at some point you have to stop the CPR and notify the family. Based on the last few years, I wonder if the people in charge of the Super Bowl halftime show aren’t getting their ideas from the iPod of a middle-aged suburban woman who never quite figured out how the thing worked. “Billy helped me load the Rod Stewart songs, but the computer ate them.”
The ads, too, have become overblown. My least favorite commercials are the “meta-ads” where the joke is “We spent $2 million for 30 seconds and we’re going to get your attention by using this large talking mammal (musk ox?) despite its irrelevance to our product (financial management?).” Super Bowl ads are like going to a singles bar after the Earth breaks its orbit and begins hurtling toward the sun. You don’t have to pay for the drinks, but oh the things you’ll hear.
Nevertheless, if you’re like me, you’ll gather with friends today to watch the whole spectacle. Super Bowl Sunday is no longer just a game day, it’s a holiday. You will see no fat man in red suit or basket-toting bunny, but instead fix your gaze upon a flickering screen that shrieks for your money and empty consumer love. Fear not, fellow American, at least we shall have snacks.
Aaron J. Brown is a columnist for the Hibbing Daily Tribune.