Pleasantly Surprised

 

Sometimes, I don’t really mind being proven wrong …

Super Bowl 59

 

So I’m being guilted into watching Super Bowl 59.

 

I’ve watched about a dozen games this season. The times when the Giants and Jets have played in prime time and when they’ve come down here to get beaten up by Texas teams. I’ve watched about two games each round of the playoffs, and every single team I rooted for lost. My ideal Super Bowl would’ve been the Bills / Lions. One team hasn’t been there in three decades and when it did, lost four games in a row. The other team hasn’t been in a championship since a decade before I’ve been born.

 

Instead, we’ll be subject yet again to more of Taylor Swift, that dope Kelce she’s dating, and the refs throwing flags every time the defense gets somewhat in the vicinity of Mahomes. There’ll be a plethora of stupid ads to endure. There’ll be virtue signaling, I’m sure, even if tampered from the extremes and excesses of the prior four years. And all in the service of making Roger Goodell and the owners more and more $$$.

 

Why would I subject myself to this?

 

Last year we watched the original Star Wars, and everyone seemed to enjoy it. I know I did. The girls care nothing of football, but are keen to the idea of the type of family viewing night we hold regularly. That and eating TGI Friday foods. So it was a win-win for everyone. At least I like to think so.

 

However, this year I’ve floated Raiders of the Lost Ark or Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, to deaf or uninterested ears. Indeed, the Mrs. actually wants to watch the game. She feels she’s “missing out” if she, uh, misses out on the game. Try as I might, I can’t seem to persuade her otherwise. Best case scenario I can see, so far, is us watching something Patch is into (we’re currently in the midst of a recent Hell’s Kitchen season), with periodic breaks for score checks. I dunno.

 

Or maybe I’ll spend Sunday night out in my reading chair in the living room, on some Civil War battlefield or cracking the mysterious world of the quantum with Wheeler and Feynman. Or maybe over the weekend something else will light my fire and I’ll deep dive into esoterica through the long hours of the evening. We’ll see.

 

My prediction: Chiefs (of course) 41, Eagles 38. It will come down to the last two minutes, a penalty against Philadelphia, and Mahomes connecting to that oaf in the end zone.

 

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