Not half bad. As Super Bowls go.
Always liked Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers. You can drive from Elyria to the Indiana line in like nine minutes if you keep playing “Free Fallin’” on the CD.
Great commercials. Well, better than they have been in a long time, anyway. Like since the time Cindy Crawford wore those tight Levi’s cutoffs.
The best: The Charlie Brown balloon grabbing the Coke balloon high above the Macy’s parade, the Charles Barkley cell phone (Singular?) commercial, the Ben Roethlisberger commercial for “American Idol,” the mouse trap and the guy eating a bag of Doritos, and ta-da … the Victoria’s Secret quickie.
But the game.
Maybe the best one ever. For a Super Bowl. Nice crunchy drama there in the fourth quarter. The kid Eli be comin’. Good, that is. Showed real moxie. And so did the injured Plaxico, making that catch there in the end zone. Was so alone he could have one-rung somebody about his catch. BEFORE he made it.
Meanwhile, those popping sounds you heard after the game weren’t fireworks. Were the living members of the 1972 Miami Dolphins popping their corks in celebration for still being the NFL’s last unbeaten team. An obnoxious little ritual, all things considered, and possibly the only reason to root for the bloodless William Belichick and the New England Patriots.
So. In the end, Charming Billy left the party early, coach Tom Coughlin cracked his face with a smile, the Pats streak ended at 18 and the Giants, well … they just flat outplayed ’em. ’Twas a beautiful thing to see.
The only blemish on the evening was not on the Super Bowl, but on that charmless entity called the National Football League. To wit:
The Arizona sky was a golden rust with a little purple in it. If you were going to make a Technicolor cowboy movie, this would be the setting. Those mountains, those mesas, that sky. To top it off, there was a cooling breeze coming in off those mountains.
Naturally, the National Football League closed the roof. It even became an issue late in the game when players started getting cramps because of the humidity inside the concrete box that has a football field for a floor. Let ’em eat bananas.
Was a little thing, but it was annoying as all get out because it was so stupid — football being an outdoor game and all. Then Eli hit Plaxico Burress with that pass in the end zone and the roof came off the place, anyway.
A perfect ending to a season that did not end in perfection. The ’72 Dolphins toast you, Giants. With raised champagne glasses and a bunch of “attaboys.” And grins as wide as the Arizona sky they wouldn’t let in.
Contact Doug Clarke at 329-7135 or firstname.lastname@example.org.