Once in a while, a certain game will pique our curiosity to the point of suffocation. For weeks, it’s all you hear about. Sometimes it’s warranted, and sometimes it’s not. Typically, we create a whirlwind of interest that, unfortunately, usually proves to be disappointing in the end. Sort of like for all those creepy perverts that had a countdown going for the Olsen twins’ 18th birthdays, only to be let down once they grew up into the anorexic, baggy clothes-wearing, dirty hair-sporting, frog-looking adults they are today. Seriously, is that just me, or what? Nevertheless, we cling to the opportunity to latch onto the next “big one” in hopes that it will satisfy our palates of sporting pleasure. That game is upon us again.
"Tom, I'd love to stay and chat about your perfect hair but I have another commercial shoot to get to."
When the New England Patriots fly into Indy to take on the Colts this Sunday, people will be hoping to get the Alyssa Milano version, not the Mary-Kate one. Perhaps Super Sunday has come three months early.
There are only two championship-caliber teams in the NFL – the Colts and the Pats. I just don’t understand why it had to be these two teams. I mean, looking at Peyton Manning from certain angles, I’ve noticed he slightly resembles Sloth from “The Goonies.” I keep waiting to hear him scream, “Baby Ruth! Baby Ruth!” when he’s having his normal seizure at the line of scrimmage. On the flip side, Tom Brady is perhaps a little too GQ for football, especially during his fashion shows, err, press conferences after each game. Metrosexual pretty much sums him up. Yet here they are, playing one another, each with their dream of a perfect season on the line. Not to mention the insane amount of bragging rights these powerhouse rivals share. Even so, this game boasts the two best quarterbacks in the game, two of the best head coaches, arguably the two best receiving corps, and perhaps the most opportunistic defenses in the league. It seems to be a recipe for some fireworks and a workout for the scoreboard adjuster.
Be that as it may, can any regular season game in the first week of November really be considered the biggest game of the year? Can the Super Bowl match the intensity and competitiveness of Sunday’s game? Like a lifelong bachelor on his wedding day, it’s all down hill from here. Think about it. Are there any rivalries amongst two contending clubs that even comes remotely close to this one? Nope. Are there any teams even on the same playing field right now? Don’t think so. Even in the midst of the most hyped regular season games in recent memory, could we actually be underestimating the magnitude of this game? This is quite possibly THE biggest game of the year. Advertisers should be paying the megabucks for the right to broadcast commercials during this telecast. People should be throwing lame parties with corny football-shaped bowls and cups that they bought on sale at Target. We need to treat this game as if it were taking place in Arizona in February. Of course if we promote the game too much, it’ll end up like Christmas. You know, you go from buying barbeque grills in August to Christmas decorations in September. By the time December rolls around, you want to hang Santa with extra lights. Being from Philly, I understand resentment toward the big guy in red. Anyway, what’s the worst that could happen? It’ll be a blowout and the score won’t even be close? Who cares? Many Super Bowls have gone that way anyhow.
Sadly, we occasionally are afraid to dive into the mystique of a much-publicized game such as this one for fear of being let down. Regrettably, the only certainty I can promise is that you won’t find another game on this season’s schedule with as much bad blood or talent level. If all goes well, we can save ourselves the mediocrity that will be Super Bowl XLII. Then again, what is there to do in February? And if for no other reason, watch the game and wait to see if Peyton does the Truffle Shuffle with his boy Chunk.
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