Super Bowl Sunday

It happens every year at this time. Two teams in their colored underwear will pretend to clash, brutally, and we will pretend to care as we stuff our faces with planets of pizza, guacamole and beer. We gather together on Super Bowl Sunday in a debased form of Thanksgiving.

Think of the camaraderie of eleven men huddling in brotherhood on the field while 120 million Americans commune, both brainy and brainless, putting aside our IQs, such as they may be, and slip on our fangs for a few hours.

For one afternoon. fandom triumphs over factions. Unless Donald takes the occasion to annex Greenland, MAGA and un-MAGA will redirect their animus to the gladiators on the field. The antics of the regime will give way to the theater of two football teams.

What we witness is a human drama unfolding, unrehearsed and unrigged. No one will be moving the goalposts. It cannot be hacked by Putin or the Chinese, nor lied about on Truth Social. Nor can the outcome be overturned by some archaic electoral contrivance. Perhaps it is the rules of the game we yearn for.

It is hoped that the snarls will be left on the couch, and our aggression might be sublimated for a while. Dare I say, mercy might even be tapped into? 

An estimated 1.4 billion dollars will be wagered, enough to rebuild Gaza or send Elon into orbit. We will bet on the outcome, whether the total points scored are even or odd, on the coin toss and even the length of the national anthem.

Football is a reenactment of WWI where trench warfare was measured in yards gained as the combatants were carried away in stretchers. To reduce the carnage of war to an entertainment of contained violence is both a way of exorcising hostility and legitimizing it. Yet, for aficionados, it is a game of strategy and finesse. The players are merely pawns in the coach’s chess game.

Clearly football games are not everyone's cuppa. For those non-observant of this national holiday, it may be the perfect time to caulk your bathtub or take advantage of empty freeways, parks and noiseless restaurants.

Yes, the hoopla around the pre-game is disproportionately self-important, faintly militaristic and super patriotic. The halftime show has my finger on the mute button. All of it is indefensible yet there are times when we, en masse, are encouraged to confront the mystery of life where rationality doesn't reach. Rituals, such as this, answer that call.