I keep a list of topic ideas for this page. As time has passed, I've plucked out all the easy ones. Remaining are ideas like "write a post about your history with profanity, but don't use any profanity in the post" that seemed like a good idea at the time, that I've even attempted to write, but that have never made it to this page. Among those dregs is one last Super Bowl post. It ain't exactly getting more topical, so lemme slip it in before the next season begins.
Even before kickoff, the Super Bowl was my worst time ever at a football game. I missed the fans. The people of Detroit were lovely, but they weren't there to cheer for their team. Yeah, there were scads of visiting fans, but it's not the same. They didn't tailgate. They didn't focus on any traditional hubs. With nowhere to go, they hung out in the dozen or so downtown bars. For five days. If you were lucky enough to get a table, maybe it was fun, but I was never so lucky.
Worse, the fans were outnumbered by merchants and media. Think about the effect of that on pre-game buzz. They didn't care about us or the game; their focus was elsewhere. There was little atmosphere, nothing that suggested that even a high school game was about to be be played, let alone the biggest game in American sports.
I went to the NFL's main event, FanFest. I paid $15 admission and waited outside for an hour, only to discover that most of the exhibits inside were merely selling memorabilia. (Thanks. Most of the people outside are doing that, too.)
On game day, I got to my seat early because I wanted to see the ballyhooed Stevie Wonder/Joss Stone pregame concert. And there they were, standing around the 40 yard line. They stood there for a good 20 minutes, chatting with Teamsters. Strangest concert entrance ever. And then suddenly some music started, and they were introduced by the TV announcer, and they took to the stage to frantically play one song. The one song. When the one song was over, they abruptly stopped and strolled off the field as the Teamsters tore down the stage used for the one song. There was no applause from the 70,000 people present, nor did it seem like there should be. We were not there. It was a strange sensation, being ignored, but there was no denying that we were merely onlookers, an incidental audience at best.
When the game ended, the Teamsters rushed out on the field and constructed a celebration podium. 50 yards away from it, massive amounts of confetti soon fell from the ceiling. "Good planning," I thought. And then I saw the result on TV, and I thought it was the perfect microcosm of my experience being at the Super Bowl.
What I saw in the stadium:
How it looked on TV:
Moral: if you want to be a part of the experience, stay home and watch the Super Bowl on TV.