Yesterday's Super Bowl provided intense drama, theater and emotions throughout the day, especially at the end.
We not only saw a fabulous football game and a spectacularly visual halftime, but in this age of Facebook and Twitter, we got an added tutorial on just how a bunch of people watching an event can react to the outcome.
I call it the Human Nature Super Bowl, which happens more often than the football variety scheduled every year.
"I want to be a shark dancer," probably tops the list as my favorite Facebook post from yesterday.
That was posted on a cell phone across the living room by my daughter-in-law during the Katy Perry halftime show where bright colors, spectacular visual effects and a so-so sound system kept millions watching while munching on chicken wings, chips or whatever else sumptuous spreads offered.
When halftime ended, I asked, "Is it just me or were the voices hard to hear?" Debbie and Willie agreed that it wasn't just me.
Throughout the day, the Facebook faithful registered their emotions. We saw endless photos of Seahawk and Patriot pride represented in apparel not quite as colorful as the halftime extravaganza but, indeed, impressive.
Others, either bluntly or subtlely, left posts announcing to the world what they were doing rather than watching the Super Bowl.
I felt no guilt.
It was apparent throughout the day that opinions can be as diverse as all the colors of M&M's remaining in our Costco bag AFTER a giant supply of blue and green candies had been removed and put in a bowl for the Lovestead nibble spread.
Consider the following as representative examples of what I saw on my newsfeed.
"Halftime sucks!"
Loved Katy Perry's halftime
"Nice that Katy showed up to perform with Missy and Lenny."
"So far all the commercials suck."
"How come these commercials are all teary or depressing? I want something funny."
Of course, I went outside to feed my horses when the Budweiser beauties and a puppy did their thing, so I could not quite empathize with the Facebook friend who has resolved to drink Budweiser beer from this day forth.
FB posters even expressed mild disapproval with what other posters were eating at their Super Bowl party.
Reported menu at one house: Homemade gluten free hot wings, fresh guacamole with gluten free blue corn tortilla chips, homemade gluten free sorghum and brown rice ale - SUPER BOWL food for me and mine. Go Hawks!
Elicits the following comments:
No hot wings here... Unless you are saying I'm hot with wings...
Is hot with wings like an angel no spicy food there!
Haha for sure nothing hotter than medium salsa here
Hot legs here-its what was in the freezer. Go Seahawks!!
Wings down the road. Eat lots of wings for the Hawks!
Meanwhile, down in Phoenix, Skittles were the rage. My friend Jeff was there, and he showed off a good supply in a photo taken before the game. He also posted a picture of the New England Patriots cheerleaders who walked by.
The true smorgasboard of human nature, though, has manifested itself in a myriad of ways ever since that crucial moment, characterized this morning by a sports columnist as very much like a Mt. St. Helens eruption, when the ball sailed from Russell Wilson's hand into the arms of a little-known rookie Patriot.
Instantly, this young man from some little college in Alabama became a hero forever while millions of Seahawk fans suddenly were registering a true desire to "eat their own."
"Their own" happened to be the offensive coordinator for the Seahawks, whose meticulous, fast-paced planning---along with a little help, of course---had gotten the Seahawks to the half-yard point, just 18 inches from victory.
Forget the Skittles. Forget the chicken wings. Forget the seas of blue and green populating every household or gathering place for the Seahawks faithful.
For a while, a lot of people wanted something other than Skittles or chicken wings, and some may have even removed their "uniforms of Seahawk pride."
Their dietary desires instantly changed. They wanted red meat, red human meat, belonging to that man who made a mistake and for whom Coach Pete Carroll later took the blame.
Yes, the emotions at this house were probably just as raw as they were everywhere else that Seahawks lovers could taste that second Super Bowl victory for their team.
And, on the field, emotions went very raw and a few players, filled with adrenalin-charged frustration went after their own brand of red meat dressed in Patriot uniforms.
It got ugly, for sure. The comments on Facebook got ugly. A few cuss words were uttered in this household.
At that very moment the Human Nature Super Bowl had reached its pinnacle.
But then: the posts started changing with words of pride for the Seahawks who had shown us such a wonderful season. And, it seemed last night that the positive comments, at least on my Facebook news feed, outnumbered those initial reactions of frustration.
Like other households, I'm sure time in front of the TV quickly turned to time in kitchen clean-up and offers to leave more lasagna for your dinner tomorrow or "take these chips; we can't eat 'em all."
The game ended. Ground Hog day loomed ahead, and thoughts of the next items on the agenda helped douse those intense emotions that had erupted just minutes before from what will go down in history as the "dumbest call ever."
Which brings us back to a cliche we've heard all our lives. It's only a game.
It was a game that brought out the best of us and the worst of us, and, no doubt, future games will do the same, just as those chicken wings will show up for future parties, regardless of who's playing.
Now, it's time to contemplate that stupidest call ever in Pennsylvania, suggesting that cuz their ground hog saw its shadow today, we have six more weeks of winter.
Who came up with that idea, anywho???? Now, that I've registered that complaint, I'm gonna call up my daughter-in-law and see if she still wants to be a shark dancer.
Happy Monday. Still a Seahawks lover.
No comments:
Post a Comment