As far as football goes, this is the worst time of year.
And just a day away from the Super Bowl, I know this seems to be an absurdly nonsensical statement, but it’s simple science, really: after the game is over Sunday night, when you’re full of beer and covered with the ghostly sauce of a thousand forgotten chicken wings, the realization will slowly sink in that A) you have to work tomorrow, B) the mini-meatballs are already battling the PBR for stomach supremacy, and C) you are now at the greatest possible distance from the next game of professional football.
This is a football hangover, and it leaves me feeling just the slightest bit sorrowful.
That’s why the Super Bowl is so important; it isn’t just a game, but a dramatic conclusion to 5 months of beautiful, sanctioned violence that grabs your Sunday by the balls and demands, “YOU WILL WATCH ME. YOU WILL DO NOTHING ELSE.” Continue reading →