Our world turned upside down and inside out this past Sunday during the Super Bowl. Strange day. Most peculiar.
We, of course, hate the Philadelphia Eagles with every ounce of our silver-and-blue hearts. We hate their puke-green uniforms and their small-brained, criminally insane fans. Watching a Dallas Cowboys division rival make it to the big game is like seeing O.J. Simpson giving your girlfriend a foot massage. It makes you feel icky and angry at once.
The only consolation we had was knowing that the Eagles’ success ensured they would get a low draft pick next year and be vulnerable to other teams nabbing their coaches and free agents. Ha ha!
Unfortunately, it was impossible to root for their opponent. Who in their right minds can cheer on the New England Cheatriots or their football-deflating quarterback and meathead tight end?
We resigned ourselves to enduring the gridiron contest while enjoying the expensive commercials and halftime show. But then …
While we lay on the couch in our sweat pants eating Doritos ® and drinking Budweiser ®, the game became entertaining. Exciting. Fun. With back-and-forth scoring, trick plays, and long bombs. We began rooting for the Eagles and their second-string quarterback with the heart of gold, Nick Foles. We rooted for them because they’ve never won a Super Bowl. And we rooted for Halapoulivaati Vaitai, the Haltom City native, TCU graduate, and starting right tackle. Go, Big V!
The things we expected to enjoy fell flat. None of the TV commercials blew us away. And Justin Timberlake put on the worst halftime show since Carol Channing at Super Bowl VI in 1972.
But, man, what a game! How ’bout them Eagles?!
And then the game ended, their fans rioted, looted, drunkenly flipped a car on its side, destroyed property, and acted like the asshats they’ve always been. So to hell with the Eagles, their fans, their puke-green jerseys, and their Bible-thumping goody two-shoes quarterback, although we still like Big V because of Haltom City. But just barely.