I hate that this post was delayed. I had been working all day to have it ready.

Pepperidge Farm had other plans. I don’t know if I got a hold of bad sausage or if someone surgically implanted a miniature turbine engine in my intestine. Either way, I was not up for spitting a hot 16 about football last night after the game.

This season can be weirdly summarized in the phrase, “just win.” It was said of Tim Tebow, as in, he “just wins,” and by the late Al Davis, “Just Win, baby!” who passed away mid-season. It says something of the truthfulness of the NFL sentiment that it proved accurate even from its villain to its virgin. In a year that showcased only flawed teams, including the World Champion New York Giants of 7-loss regular season fame, it seems right that the bottom line would be all that mattered. Not stats or rankings or QBR. Just Ws and Ls. The playoffs were illustrative. Luck and opponent mishap proved as dispositive as skill and self-made fortune. What does all that mean? Who knows.

(Two of the Giants seven losses came against my hapless Washington Redskins, including one loss THREE games before the end of the regular season, 23-10; losing to the Redskins twice and then winning the Super Bowl is like making your third grade math teacher president of Salomon Smith Barney. Wait, I think that might have happened. Three words: credit. default. swap.)

All I know, is that I’m infatuated with the Super Bowl more every year. It’s become a kind of spiritual problem, even. And, this year. Sheesk. It just felt like such an important Super Bowl. But, what does that even mean, anymore? important. Poverty. Human suffering. Madonna’s wet suit. Why do we care so much? Every year with my kids, I paint electric football players of the respective SB participants and we play a mock game that has, year after year, ended in a 0-0 tie because no one knows the rules, strategy, or mechanical logistics of those little teethed dials.

I’d like to say something about the corporate sociology of fandom and the barriers rooting can lower among the rich and the poor and between the races. Even where it divides us, it really is a rallying thing.

But the truth seems a lot simpler really. It’s just awesome to see people fly around and catch stuff you couldn’t catch and tackle people you couldn’t catch and sometimes even drop passes you couldn’t catch. The uniforms are shiny and there are a lot pretty boxes with flashing lights and numbers. It’s just awesome and I don’t have to defend it more than that. In your face, you disciplined and good-use-of-your-time people.

We’re raised to agree that it’s all in how you play the game. And, that’s true. Except in the NFL. We don’t have to be big about it or content with moral victories. Black and white. Win or lose. You don’t have to qualify your demand for either. Just win, baby. Just win.

Thanks again for another great season, big fast guys that could kill us with one blow.

Performed by the ipoetlaureate. Music produced by Fab da Eclectic.

Today’s song blog here:

Toothless Grin 2012 (Just Win)

2 thoughts on “XLVI

  1. “These are the tears of Giselle” Ha!

    There was something so weird and disturbing about the grandeur of the Halftime show. Madonna as some kind of triumphant returning erotic empress, her heirs, Nicki M. and the bird-flipping chick, and then Cee-Lo singing praises in a church gown with a full blown church choir? Whatevs… I was reminded of the verse in Genesis where God looks down from his throne, almost as if he has to squint, to see what those silly humans are doing building a tower to reach the Heavens.

    I liked the Chrysler commercial but that was predictably politicized the next day (or maybe from its inception). American pop culture (which is becoming more and more entwined with American political culture) can be so ridiculous. Somebody save us from ourselves, man.

    I always feel like I need a pop culture detox after watching the SB. But I’m sure that won’t stop me from watching it again next year!

    Come on man, a link to the 4th Circuit but none to the 11th? Everyone knows the 11th runs things!

    ok, rant complete!

  2. A detox of some kind is def in order.

    And, that’s hysterical about the 11th Cir. I mean, I guess if you’re trying to get reversed you could cite to those guys.

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