February 2 2008
Well gang, tomorrow is the greatest unofficial American holiday if the year. Super Sunday.
For one reason or another, a lot of money is going to change hands.
For some folks, it will mean inviting some friends over to the house and setting up the barbecue. Others, fearful of burning down the house, will opt for delivery pizza or wings. Which will also help to keep the after party mess to a somewhat manageable level.
A good supply off beer will certainly be necessary. Maybe an extra cooler or two, and, of course extra ice.
Lots of people will have spent the last week stopping in to favorite watering holes and buying squares in super bowl pools. Meaning that after the game, this crowd is going to have to make a pub crawl to see if their squares hit the money,
And still others will want to see their bookies in person for one reason or another.
And then there are those types who prefer Super Sunday to have a sort of Mardi Gras flavour. With five hundred customers packed cheek to jowl in a pub with fifty or so TV sets, pub grub, lots of hootin’ and hollerin’ and a bartender that causes you to miss the best plays of the game because you can’t get said bartenders attention to have him serve you another beer.
No matter where you see the game, you can bet that when all the beer catches up with you and you finally just have to go to the john, you will be greeted on your return by an hysterical crowd that that agrees to a man or a woman that they have just watched the greatest Super Bowl TV ad that they have ever seen.
Some people have an allegiance to a particular team. Others like to think that they really understand the sport, and have used their mighty intellect to select the winner of the game. Some just care about what the score is at the end of each quarter.
Except for the occasional parking lot fender bender, the mood will be generally jovial in nature, with the only anger being directed at the referees, who can’t seem to be able to get it right even with slow motion.
Those who manage to get their legs under them and make it to work on Monday morning, while being admired for their heroism, don’t really fool anybody into thinking that they’re getting any work done. The day is spent re-hashing the game and the commercials.
Not necessarily in that order.
And then there are the guys who buy a six-pack of their favorite beer, some decent chow, and stay home to watch the game.
No distractions.
No interruptions.
And if the announcers say anything that just happens to be relevant to the game, they can actually hear it.
Yes, there’s something to be said for the purist.

Till next week
Helga Biermeister
Secretary