Sugarzine : Queens

Confessions of a Superbowl Geek

by Dennis Borowsky

Football is for jerks. Yeah, I said it. Always felt it.

Well, that’s not entirely true. Tried out and made the high school team in eleventh grade, practiced with the meatheads for a month, then quit. My dad showed up one day and laughed his ass off because I looked so stupid with all those pads concealing my scrawny frame. That was it. “I’m outta here!”

Until a few weeks ago, I never looked back. I have never watched a full game, never partaken in a betting pool, never slobbered over shitty chicken wings, and never ever shouted something stupid like J-E-T-S … Jets, Jets, Jets! But then a news report peeked my interest with a story of the New England Patriots, having a perfect season, playing the Giants before the playoffs. Neither team needed the win, but the Giants were hell-bent on taking the honor of being perfect from the Patriots. I watched this game. It was the first football game I have ever viewed in its entirety, and it was amazing. I wanted the Patriots to win, because I figured they must have worked so hard all year to be perfect, and why should the stupid Giants take that from them. Well, they did win and all I could think of was “Shit, now I have to watch another game to see what happens!”

Two weeks later I tuned in to see the Giants in the playoffs. I decided to root for them, since, well, I don’t know why exactly. Anyway, it was an amazing game ending in this crazy climax with the kicker (punter?) missing two field goals and then redeeming himself to win the game! Awesome. The Giants win and all I could think was, “Shit, now I have to watch the SUPERBLOW?!?”

The men in my family have always hung their heads in shame on this day, looking at me in disgust for opting out of their collective bro-isms. But I showed them. Before I knew it, I was on line at the supermarket, under those towering beer skyscrapers, smiling at those oh-so-cleverly placed inflatable footballs. I dialed my friends and told them it was on. We would drink beer, yell and scream, and eat health food versions of America’s finest junk food. God I’m such a Mary.

A girl at the party told me that football was rigged, and I almost believe it after seeing that game. She also told me that Michael Jackson was going to play as a surprise after Tom Petty. Based on what a buzz-kill his set was, I almost believed that too. But, oh yeah, the game… Thirty something seconds left and Eli Manning would not go down. He would not let his team loose. I jumped out of my seat convinced that he was getting “sacked”, but he busted free and sent the pig flying, to be caught between what looked like two fingers and a helmet. I fell to the living room floor in almost crying disbelief. Then I checked myself.

I wanted the Giants to win this game. Not because I’m from NY, but because they were the underdogs. The Patriots were cocky, let their guard down, and the little guy brought the pain. If you missed the game, I’ll spare you the cheesy details and the David and Goliath comparisons, but I will say that it seemed scripted like a feel good movie, and there were definitely some life-lessons floating throughout.

Loosening up and trying something new can truly be rewarding. So the next time you won’t eat mushrooms or brusselsprouts because you hated them when you were a kid, give ‘em a try!, you might just fall to the floor in embarrassing disbelief.