February 3, 2008

Super Bowl XLII

I just don't get it.

Whether Tom Brady and the Patriots make history, or the NY Giants stop 'em in the Super Bowl, I just couldn't give a rat's ass. I mean, these are teams that play fewer than 20 games per season. Sure, any one of the guys on the Pats' offensive line could run a Sherman Tank into the ground -- and they're supposedly five kilos per hulk smaller than the Giants' O-line. But this is a league that routinely sees felons paid tens of millions per year to knock their opponents into the hospital.

Okay, most sports have bad guys. But this is a league that has drug-doping as a side salad to the game itself. Michael Vick is still revered by a lot of fans because he can run the pigskin better than most other quarterbacks, but the guy hid a dog-fighting ring on the property of his mansion. Now the poor baby can't play his favourite game any more. I'm so sad -- I'm sure he'll feel really bad flashing his bling without a weekly sweatfest in front of legions of adoring sheep.

And the whole hoopla of the game doesn't wash. There are entire fan clubs just for the advertisements unveiled during the game. Doesn't this seem odd? People are cheering, rating, and even downloading these commercials.

Don't even get me started on Alicia Keys lip-synching through the pre-game show, which might I mention started several hours before kickoff?

Call me if you can explain this whole thing.

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