No matter who’s colors you sported on Sunday, whose wife you think is more attractive (between Mrs. Eli Manning and Mrs. Brady Bundchen), what team you had money on, or what you think of Tom Brady and his Man Ugg endorsement deal, no one can deny that that was one hell of a Super Bowl.
Much like the game back in 2007, the final 120 seconds of game time decided who would be crowned NFL champion, and get to carry home the prized Lombardi Trophy. Unlike 2007, this years Super Bowl was determined by a few excruciating dropped passes (as pointed out by Mrs. Brady Bundchen herself) and not one spectacular, time transcending catch.
Isn’t it crazy to think that the entire NFL season; 17 weeks of punishing play, the ups and downs, injuries, victories, defeats, everything, can come down to two
Mrs. Brady Bundchen
minutes of the players lives? And for some players, mainly the Patriots secondary, who may not play in another playoff game in their career, contribute a lifetime’s worth of commitment to the game can have it all go up in smoke in 120 seconds.
Honestly, it’s probably taken you about 60 seconds to get to this point in the column. So in the amount of time it took you to get to this word, the Patriots, their players, coaches, the organization, their season, and in a much bigger way, their lifetime spent perfecting the game, the dreams they had since they were young boys playing touch football in the backyard, dissolved right in front of their faces. While on the flipside, the fantasies the Giants players grew up with, were coming true.
And lucky for all of us sitting at home, we get to go along for the ride. You’d be hard pressed to find one person last night who understand and enjoys the game of football who wasn’t on the edge of their seat for that last heave to the end zone. And as that ball fluttered to the ground, some of us stood up in exciting and rejoice; others slumped back into their couches, in disbelief of what just happened.
Over 60 seconds and with only 160 feet between them, two sidelines lived two extremes of the human experience. That’s the beauty of sport.
The game was fantastic, and one in what has now become a long line of really pretty great Super Bowl games. And for us here in Minnesota, who haven’t had a real rooting interested in the big game since 1976 (depending on how much you dislike the Packers), we really just want to be entertained. The Super Bowl brings so much hype to that fateful Sunday evening in February, that anything less that a game that comes down to the final few plays seems like a let down.
While were on the subject of let downs, how about this year’s commercials. The polar opposite of the game, this year’s Super Bowl advertisers really didn’t bring the heat that we’re used to. I mean, if you can’t bring the cheese, at least try to hit the mascot am I right?
However, there was one shining moment in the form of the beautiful, silky smooth voice of Clint Eastwood. (Quick side tangent, in 60 years when I’m 82, it will be the tragedy of my lifetime if I don’t have an awesome, powerful voice like Eastwood. Please, somebody pass me a pack of unfiltered Marlboro Reds and a shot of Wild Turkey.)
Eastwood’s Chrysler commercial followed up last year’s ad from the same car company highlighting the renaissance of Detroit through the voice of Eminem. I kid you not, when Eastwood ripped off the line “It’s halftime America, and our second half is about to begin,” I immediately got chills and felt like it was my patriotic duty to go and work a double shift at a Chrysler plant in Detroit. The only thing that would have made it better would have been if Eastwood rolled off into the Motor City sunset in a vintage Grand Torino.
Another bright point of an already impressive Super Bowl game, believe it or not, was the half time show. Despite the fact that the majority of my generation is way out of Madonna’s primary demographic, I thought the show was excellent. Even though there was obviously quite a bit of lip syncing going on, I’d much rather have a visually impressive and quality sounding show than the disaster that took place last year when the Black Eyed Peas screeched and pitched their way through that performance. We even got a little rebel without a cause moment from M.I.A., we she reportedly flipped off the camera and sang an expletive at the end of her verse (which in all honestly, after the wardrobe malfunction and everything that takes place in MTV’s fine lineup of programming, a flip of the bird and a curse is kind of like saying Will Smith is as hardcore of a rapper as Tupac or DMX).
So overall, I give this year’s Super Bowl a solid “A”. Anytime you can get together with friends, enjoy a few drinks, some terrible but delicious food, and be entertained by a fantastic football game for four hours is a good night in my book. Just remember, Tom Brady is still one of the best QB’s in the league, Gisele is still much more attractive that Eli’s wife, Madonna put on a better halftime show than the Black Eyed Peas, the Who, and Tom Petty, and please, for the love of God, go out and buy a Chrysler so Dirty Harry doesn’t show up at your door and give you one of these.
Eric Melch
Eric Melch is a senior at the University of Minnesota, majoring in Sports Management; he is the Sports Editor of Secret Laboratory. Originally from Chicago, Illinois, Eric grew up near Madison, Wisconsin, spending his entire life in Big 10 country. His love of literature and sports has naturally led him to write about his passion, something he has done for the past six years and most recently at here with Secret Laboratory. Eric currently works in the University of Minnesota Athletic Department and hopes to continue his career in college athletics.
E-mail Mr. Melch at ericmelch@secretlaboratory.org.
