In these banal contests, one group of steroid-infused pituitary-case criminals wearing garish costumes pushes another group of pituitary-criminals similarly attired for no apparent reason, usually in vulgar weather conditions. Mercifully, this is done at a distant remove.
Adherents of the eccentric activity sit in pressboard paneled living rooms, shout incoherently at flatscreen televisions and eat and drink to excess whilst wearing polyester sports garb that covers their capacious bellies.
The match, errant calls by officials and the programme’s feckless advertisements are excessively dissected at their soul-crushing places of work the next morning over tepid, watery sludge served in small styrofoam cups.
Elation, alleged understanding of finer points of the sport and heartbreak get expressed in mind-numbing, repetitive detail as they resist the urge to be unwell from drink and quarts of guacamole the previous evening. All this is meant to comfort their souls, as if they had any.
The homoerotic worship of erstwhile quarterback Tom Brady continues unabated, unchallenged by his departure from the game.
The halftime extravaganza features automatic strobe lights firing off throughout the stands to suggest photographs are being taking by adoring fans. Fittingly, the whole soggy mess occurs on a vast carpet of green plastic undercoated by rubber.
This year’s competition will be held at 3333 Al Davis Way, Las Vegas, Nevada. What’s at 3334 Al Davis Way cannot be known.
I have a surefire method of predicting the outcome of any football game...the team with the prettiest color uniforms wins. I'm right roughly 50% of the time...and let's not forget about those tight ends, either.
Easily the most perfect description of this “dia de los muertos” ever. But, as it is in Indianapolis during the 500 race, great shopping day! No one’s out…