Golden Reviews: Super Bowl XLIX


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Me: Blackout Drunk

Next weekend is the super bowl. Woooo! I hope it’s full of guacamole this year. Just kidding, I know the super bowl isn’t a large piece of pottery. Everyone’s been talking about it as if it’s a sporting event. I can only assume that it’s the world’s greatest bowling tournament. And it’s in its 49th year! These bowlers must be old. Maybe it’s lawn bowling. But then again, who would want to watch lawn bowling on TV when they could just go to the old folks home down the road and watch it home. Must not be lawn bowling. Maybe I got my Roman numerals wrong. It’s been a long time since grade three, and I thought 49 was 50-1, so it should be Super Bowl IL. Maybe that’s a town in Illinois, and they couldn’t name the event after the town for fear of copyright infringement.

I haven’t been bowling in many years. When I was a child, I used to bowl multiple balls at once. I was horrible at bowling with my left hand, so the second ball would always end up in the gutter. At one of the bowling alleys, there was an electronic sensor that could tell if you got a strike, spare, or… or… if you were a child and therefore sucked at bowling. When the second ball would cross the line, the sensor would be overloaded. First it thought I was just a shitty child, but then A SECOND BALL CAME! It came out of nowhere. Like WHAM! Sensory overload. Must be a strike. In this way I won many perfect games of bowling before the age of 7. Every birthday party I went to, I won and all the other kids looked up to me. A few weeks before my seventh birthday, I retired from bowling. Conveniently my retirement was only a month or two before that bowling alley installed new sensors which would have completely ruined my technique.

I’m actually a little surprised and upset that I didn’t get invited to participate in the super bowl. Even though my technique has really gotten much worse over the years, I was still a bowling prodigy back in my six-year old prime. They could have at least recognized my former prowess with a nice invitation, and maybe a few thousand dollars grant for me to fly to the location of the event and stay in a 5-star hotel for a week.

My housemates have invited me to watch the Super Bowl with them! It’s strange when I receive an invitation to my own house, but given that I only sleep there occasionally and almost never spend any waking time there, I guess it makes sense. I’ve been told there will be lots of food. I hope there’s lots of guacamole! Maybe we could use some classic bowling alley style shitty beer. Last time I drank that I was sixteen and in Montreal. I ended up projectile vomiting all over a bathroom stall. I then borrowed a mop from the bowling alley and cleaned up my mess because I was too scared of them finding out that I had been underage drinking. Better stay away from the shitty beer.

BREAKING NEWS: The Super Bowl is a football game. Experts suggest that I do more research about something before reviewing (previewing?) it. Really, though, the name “bowl” makes no sense. To appease the so-called “experts”, I have done some research on the word “bowl” since you’re probably just as confused by it as I am. It turns out it was named after a children’s toy, the Wham-O Super Ball, which was popular in the 1960’s. I’m not sure if this name choice was a joke, or just a strange jab from Europeans who are bitter that we play football without our feet and see American football as no more legitimate of a sport as playing with a rubber ball (or “bowl” if you have a British accent).

I predict this game will actually be pretty exciting. It will be the first time since homecoming that I watch a football game! I’m sure I’ll spend most of the time trying to figure out the difference between Canadian and American football. Eventually, I’ll need better explanations than my friends can provide and end up scouring the CFL and NFL’s rule books, finding out everything that differs between the two so I can adequately decide which league is better. I’ll end up getting lost in legal jargon, and up drinking my confusion away. I’ll end up drunk with no memory of the event. I’ll have enjoyed my very first super bowl they way that sports are supposed to be enjoyed – blackout drunk.