Every morning on the way to work I listen to ESPN Radio to catchup on sports from the night before and hear the so-called “experts” spin their twists on a variety of topics.
Instead of analysis of Sunday’s Super Bowl, the past week plus has been nothing but talk about the psi of footballs.
Under closer examination, someone on the New England Patriots probably deflated footballs, but in truth they probably would have won the AFC Championship against the Colts with bricks for footballs, eight men on the field, and Justin Bieber coaching them.
Just taking a closer look at the two teams in the Super Bowl, they both have been naughty in the past.
The Patriots were busted for “Spygate” and filming other teams when they weren’t supposed to, and the Seahawks were recently busted for having practices when they weren’t supposed to, and also had a couple defensive backs including everyones favorite Richard Sherman busted for taking Adderall, which by NFL rules is considered a performance enhancing drug. And than there’s the Seahawks running back Marshawn Lynch, who even though he keeps getting fined, likes to touch his crotch after a touchdown like he was Michael Jackson in his prime.
There is just something about these two teams that really makes me not want to watch. I can’t stand either one of them. In fact I can think of a nice list of things I’d rather do than watch the Super Bowl on Sunday. I guess there is always the commercials and a chance at a Katy Perry wardrobe malfunction, but that’s not enough to get me to watch these two teams.
To start my list, I would rather give my cat Peaches a bath. Anyone who has a cat knows that they do a great job cleaning themselves, but sometimes they need a little extra care. There are some cats that love a little bit of water, but this is certainly not the case for Peaches. As soon as I pick him up, he knows exactly where he’s going, and claws become stuck to my arm. Once in the bath, he swats at me, tries to jump out about 50 times, and lets out a moan that someone would make waking up after a night of too much whiskey. I still would feel better about the scratched up arms than watching the Seahawks and Patriots.
Anyone who knows me well, has a great understanding that I cannot stand the taste or smell of seafood. It’s just not my thing. I’ll eat shrimp or a tuna fish sandwich, but anything else I have a rough time keeping down. Despite my dismay for the fish, I’d rather eat a pound of sushi on Sunday than turn to NBC to watch the big game. I would try all sorts of nasty uncooked fish and do it with a big smile. I might even use chopsticks, just so I could play the part just right.
When the country gathers around their televisions Sunday for the game, I would rather turn on Netflix and watch six straight hours of chick flicks. I’m talking about sappy romantic stuff that normally would make me want to curl up into the fetal position and wonder why I let my girlfriend pick the movie. I’d do it all with a smile and really invest in the strong female character whose trying to break free from all the bad men in her life to suddenly find Mr. Right riding down Central Park on a Clydesdale. And as long as I have the television on, I might turn back between Fox news and MSNBC. I don’t really like to hear about politics, and really cannot stand when people talk about it, but even this would be more of a treat than watching Tom Brady and his flowing hair fling passes to Rob Gronkowski. During halftime, I’d change over to CNN so I could her Nancy Grace and her fingernail-on-chalkboard voice spew pure nonsense while the rest of America complains about the Super Bowl entertainment.
The last on my list will be the best, but this is only if Justin Bieber isn’t busy coaching or helping the Patriots deflate balls. I might purchase one of his CD’s and turn it up loud and dance. I’ll just let it go for an hour or so and shake my rump real proper.
I hope everyone has a safe and fun Super Bowl, I’ll do my own thing and return to watch it next year -- as long as it’s not the same two teams.
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