I always enjoy teasing my mom during text message exchanges. The other day, she texted, “What are you doing for Super Bowl Sunday?”
I responded, “When is it?”
Now, I have to be honest. We didn’t know when the Super Bowl was going to happen until our daughter reminded us that they were having their annual Super Bowl Party on that day. We aren’t going because:
1. Going to church, and then driving two hours down there, and two hours back wouldn’t make much sense.
2. We have no idea who is playing.
3. Neither one of us likes football.
I loved football while growing up near Houston, Texas. Our family would sit in the den on Sundays and watch the Houston Oilers play. We would eat nachos or pizza and I loved watching my dad jump up and holler with joy, or yell at the referees. However, when the Oilers left Houston, I lost all interest in football.
So, after church on Sunday, we’ll come home, eat lunch, maybe take a short nap, and then sit with Max and Mason on the back porch, which is our favorite pastime. I’d rather watch birds and mountains than men throwing a ball around. But, that’s just me. 😉
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About the Super Bowl, I think it is mass/collective insanity. As with most team sports. I think once upon a time they were entertaining, and often represented the competitive/proud spirit of a particular city or institution. Now, with adults like rude/selfish, screaming children, and the beyond outrageous salaries for players (which then is passed on to the ticket buyers) — it is all another world in which I do not live nor participate. Nor understand. Of course, I’m the odd ball. (Praise God!).