Super Bowl Spewing
Annals of Yammering
Since I’ve been sentient for the Big Game, I haven’t missed one yet. My first “true” experience was post-Tuck Rule, having inherited the yet-to-fully-form post-96 Cowboys curse, and watching Vinatieri kick his hallmark game-winning FG against the Carolina Panthers.
I’ve written a few “actual” posts on options trading with regards to football, which I’d recommend here (Super Bowl Slippage) and here (The Options Principles of Fourth Down Calls), but today is where the sports boomer in me comes out.
One of my favorite, rather bizarre experiences was watching the Super Bowl in Barcelona in 2022, where I found the one Irish pub circa La Rambla that was showing the Big Game on TV. I walk in, and what do I see other than a Spaniard wearing a true blue Ocho Cinco Bengals Jersey? There is something magical about this game, after all — it’s the sport which I consider the highest delta between “casual viewer” and “pattern recognition savant”, yet it’s enjoyable for everyone involved.
As I prepare to watch my fourth Super Bowl abroad — I was gone for 2006, 2019, 2022, and today — I feel a bit jaded, all things considered. The Chiefs aren’t fun to root against, having seen an entire bar crowd turn to their phones or walk out after another few rigged RTP calls after an entire season of nonsense, and the Taylor phenomenon is definitely over post-November 2024. And, as a Cowboys fan who can’t remember a single truly successful postseason, having yet another narrative line up for an NFC East team — I begrudgingly made my peace with Manning (x2) and Foles against the Evil Empire, and was prepared to make the same excuse for Daniels to slay the Mahomes/Kelce/Swift behemoth — makes me wonder what exactly I’m doing watching this game year in year out.
It’s hard to believe, but I am probably the one Cowboys fan who actually likes Jerry Jones. I’m sick of all the reddit nerds thinking they wouldn’t run their team at their beck and call if they owned one. And, given the situations that go on in the NBA, isn’t it only fitting that you win with your guys?
Alas, allow me to tell the story of how my soul got eviscerated in 2024. I was at my regular bar, a midwest-flavoured variety that’s usually a Lions haven, but was full of Wisconsinites for the Cowboys-Packers playoff game. I had one of my blue-and-silver striped ties and my Tom Landry fedora on (yes, don’t judge) in place of a jersey, because this actually was the year. And, as soon as I saw those penalties set up GB for a 7-0 lead, I knew the game was basically over. More of the same. 17 years later, I knew exactly how fed up my dad was with Tony Romo and Jessica Simpson post-Mexico trip, though, being in my late 20s, I would probably kill to hang out with peak Jessica and Carrie Underwood myself.
I could see Jerry Jones’ soul leave his body that day, and frankly, I wasn’t faring so much better myself. Of all the delusions we trick ourselves into, the theory that we can control the incalculable variance of physics such that it works out in our favor is probably the most frustrating, even moreso when you see the scenarios play out again, and again, and again for god’s team, rather than America’s. This is the year I don’t have anyone to root for, because the conclusions are just so miserable — we are doomed to a generation of sophistry from the Kelce brothers, or I have to admit that the Wentz/Dak arc solely worked out in the Eagles favor even though Dak was better the entire time. Truly, I find myself a broken football fan. And Terrell Owens didn’t even make it in the first ballot.
Anyway, here are my predictions for SB2025:
-viewership drops for the first time in ages
-something so unbelievably cringe happens during halftime (my guess is a mock execution of a Drake lookalike) that nobody talks about rap beef after
-Dogecoin moves up 10% at some point during the game in anticipation of Elon ad buys -Gatorade color purple
-Regardless of result, Taylor/Travis break up in the offseason
-Brady noticeably irked during “Is Mahomes the next GOAT” segments
-Saquon MVP
I’m convinced the Taylor phenomenon is over — Swifties lost their cultural pull post-November 2024, too much is happening, and she won’t get cancelled for the whole Matty Healy thing anymore. The business relationship doesn’t make any sense after this SB, it’s probably time to try and do something authentic. (I have strong opinions on Taylor Swift at this point, having studied the consumer economy around her quite significantly for 2023 and 2024, and have a soft spot for her due to the fact that she’s The Ultimate Finance Chick.) You could literally see the ick in her face after the Viva Las Vegas screeching into the microphone last year. Anyway, I digress.
The other thing I’m convinced of is that rap has lost its cultural pull. Rap was very much a mid-2010s phenomenon, before opioids and JUICE WRLD/Lil Peep, when Kanye was still putting out albums before going on insane rants. Kendrick is 37 and Drake is 38, you shouldn’t be using the word “beef” outside of ordering a sandwich past your late-20s. Next year, we’re going to get a country artist, probably featuring Post Malone who has once again proven himself to be an Actual Chameleon, given that he’s changed his genre and is doing ads to save Bud Light with Shane Gillis and Peyton Manning in The Current Year.
As for me, all I want to do is listen to Brady on the call. I could listen to Brady, Manning, and Belichick talk endlessly about football — recognizing patterns is the most addicting drug, and though my relatively median genetics didn’t allow me to play the game at the highest level, my most profitable sport to make odds/bet on by far is NFL, and I find it the most addicting game to watch even with the post-Rodgers rule changes (that Romo had to die for.)
Final score prediction:
It won’t be cinematic, Eagles win 27-17. Here’s to another year of this is the year.