Today, thank god, is Super Bowl Sunday. Thank god not because we’re looking forward to the game (honestly, we couldn’t give a shit), but because we’re looking forward to it being over. We’re sick of the endless and completely uninteresting feature stories about the players and their wives and their coaches and their fans and their cities and their celebrity parties and the Rolling Stones and the resurgence/non-resurgence of Detroit. Honestly. Unlike the World Series (so far) the Super Bowl is now much less a contest between two teams than a corporatized media spectacle—sort of a consumerist’s national holiday, with nachos and Bud instead of a turkey and stuffing. The game is the afterthought. Even its format is compromised to accommodate the distended halftime party. It’s more like two mini-games, and they usually both suck. Anyway, we’re not going to get all Bernard-Henri Levy on you here, but we will note that after today, at least some of the daily sports page will be returned to the National Pastime. Until next week, anyway. Then, when you’re reading that puff piece about the tears and sacrifice of the Canadian ice dancing champs, you’ll be pining for that story about Jerome Bettis’s mom.
The WBC can’t come soon enough.