It's the biggest game of the year and the most blatant example of sports irony on the planet. For those of you who learned the term "irony" from Alanis Morissette, rain on your wedding day is not ironic. It's shitty luck or God trying to tell you you're about to marry a loser. I'm talking, of course, about the Super Bowl. The event in which the best of the best in a league filled to the brim with world class athletes gather for the ultimate competition of sport while watched by millions of people celebrating the occasion by eating heart-stopping deep fried lard washed down with copious amounts of delicious alcohol. Fans of either team who are so out of shape they need a nap after an epic fart will yell horrifyingly personal attacks about their own player's physical shortcomings if things don't go their way. There will be approximately zero commercials about gym memberships, orange juice or granola bars, with every stoppage of play deluged by Doritos ads, Budweiser short films, and maybe a GoDaddy spot featuring a female athlete dressed as a slut.
[jump]In short … AWESOME.
The Denver Broncos will face the Seattle Seahawks, (Duh …) shut up and let me finish, in a match-up between the number one offense in the league against the number one defense. Last time that happened, the Buccaneers beat the holy snot out of the Oakland Raiders in 2002, 48-21. So, the edge would appear to go to Seattle and the old "defense wins championships" theory. But Peyton Manning is no Rich Gannon. Manning tends to throw the ball at his own teammates. If Peyton wins his second ring it will be the first time a quarterback wins two Super Bowls with two different teams … ever. Which actually makes sense when you consider quarterbacks aren't typically let go after they get home from Disney World. Unless you're Trent Dilfer.
"Great game, Trent. How was Orlando? Fantastic, you're fired. So, wasn't the Pirates of the Caribbean awesome? They're so life-like, right down the the hairy legs!"
On the other end of the frozen gridiron is introverted Seattle cornerback Richard Sherman, who might just have something to say about Manning's opportunity. Sherman demonstrated the epitome of sportsmanship after making the game-saving play of the NFC Championship game by trashing 49ers receiver Michael Crabtree and proclaiming himself the best in the game. Outside of the fact that if Crabtree sucked, it would be a colossal waste of talent to put a defensive God on the little twerp, I got a bonus subsequent giggle at the aftermath when legions of fans came out from under their rocks to defend his jackassery because he "went to Stanford." So, you know, he's too smart to do something stupid. Must be nice. No wonder George W. Bush had it so easy with critics (Yale, Harvard), and Maury Povich must be using his ivy league education (Penn) to properly investigate baby-daddys. Did Cornell inspire Huey Lewis to write "Hip to be Square?" Just askin'…
All of the backstory drama will fade away after the 72-hour pre-game show and 4-and-a-half minutes of National Anthem, when the toe inevitably hits leather at 6:30 p.m. in gorgeous New Jersey — aka the place New Yorkers go to smoke; the home of Snooki, Paulie Walnuts and (on Sunday night) thousands of frozen testicles. It will be cold, it will be windy and it will most likely rain until the sun goes down, at which point the rain will magically transform into frozen rain. All told, every single dedicated diehard in the stands will walk out with soaked undies and an empty wallet. Sorry, junior; there's always community college. As for me, my boxers will be dry(ish), the beer will be cold and cheap, and the commercials will be no doubt hilarious and probably gross. Game on.
Honorable Afterthoughts: Bucs defensive tackle Gerald McCoy had two sacks Sunday during the Pro Bowl, the NFL's answer to the question "What's the point?" with "Screw you, we're doing it anyway." (Wanna know the score? You sick bastard, you. We should hang out more.) …Rays pitchers and catchers will meet on Feb. 14th (insert your Valentines Day perverted joke here) … Finally, the Sochi Winter Olympics are right around the corner, and it's only a matter of time before NBC hurriedly introduces viewers to a bunch of athletes nobody's ever heard of just in time to root like we've known them their entire lives. To make things more interesting, take a drink every time you hear, "overcoming incredible odds/adversity,""was told he/she was too small," or "drove 4-hours every morning to the rink with skates made of tinker toys." You'll be blind by the time Bob Costas rants about gun control or social inequity or something else having nothing to do with sports. USA! USA!