There are two kinds of men in the world: those that associate their own personal happiness with the success of a football team and those who consider sports in general an unnecessarily hedonistic half of the Roman “bread and circus” approach to government. No amount of measured and reasoned consideration will convince the former that yelling at their televisions will not affect the outcome of the game. No amount of cheap beer, good food and friends will convince the latter that there might be more value in the pursuit of football than macho-mania.

Okay, so maybe there are more than just two kinds of men out there. I myself stand somewhere in the middle, cautiously willing to engage in the weekend activities surrounding the sport with a grain of salt and a modicum of patience in mind. This year’s Super Bowl, the 44^th in history, found me curled up on the couch with a beer and one of my closest friends.  We laughed, we yelled, we got drunk, and in the end, we didn’t really care who won—the quintessential male bonding experience.

The 44^th Super Bowl saw Drew Brees and the New Orleans Saints take on all star quarterback Peyton Manning and his Indianapolis Colts. The final score: 31-17 Saints. Quite the upset, the Colts having been tagged to win by at least six points, according to the spread. Manning, Double Stuf [Oreo] Racing League MVP, and by popular independent consensus, the best active quarterback in professional football, had his game face on to be sure. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Peyton, the all-American everyman of football, so stone faced and ready to play. Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised by his team’s dramatic failure. Poor guy.

The Colts came out strong, ending the first quarter with an early lead of 10-0. I don’t follow the Colts and I don’t watch Sports Center, but it is a testament to Peyton’s reputation that I had heard tell of his prowess on the field long before seeing him in action. His throws, as if shot from a canon, were exceedingly accurate and his ability to audible on a dime, based on conditions on the field, is impressive and unmatched. More than once, incomplete passes that could have changed the face of the game bounced off Colt hands (hooves?) and even helmets. Certainly, the weight of this loss does not lie on Peyton’s shoulders….

Brees’ performance, on the other hand, didn’t strike my admittedly inexperienced eye as groundbreaking. Surely, Brees is also one of the most highly regarded names in football today, but it is the Saints team as a whole, and by extension its coaching staff, that deserve credit for the win. A hardened D-line and superb special teams performance crafted an underdog victory against the toughest team and quarterback in the League. The drama climaxed with an unexpected onside kick from the Saints to start the second half. The dog pile/UFC-style brawl that followed strained emotional ligaments to the breaking point when Chris Reis of the Saints came up with the ball.

As the game wore on, I saw the energy of the Colts falter, even as the Saints continued to burn on a high octane level, and I think it was this that in the end spelled the final results. Ultimately, I saw the 44^th Super Bowl as a battle between an apparently tireless underdog and the will of football’s debatably all-time greatest quarterback. More hardened and experienced TV-yellers might disagree. As for me, I’ll score one for teamwork.

Of course, if you’re like me, there are more reasons to watch the Super Bowl than just football. Here I’m thinking of two things: the advertisements and the halftime show.

This year’s ads weren’t half bad, though I think (and have always thought) that they failed to live up to the hype over Super Bowl ads. Doritos and Anheuser-Busch were to my eye disproportionately represented, and while a couple good ads stood out (for example, “Play Nice” by Doritos and “Betty White” by Snickers) several were sheer disappointments (“The Boost Mobile Shuffling Crew” by Boost Mobile, Yet another Simpsons sellout by Coke, and the ubiquitous and shameless Go Daddy set). The most disappointing ad came in Will.I.Am’s video remix of the Who’s classic “My Generation”. The artist sets the song to a random mash-up of images ranging from the sixties to today. Images ranged from Nixon to Vietnam to 9/11 to Bush to Iraq to Obama to Afghanistan. What really got to me was the uncalled for edit made to the song, presumably by either  CBS or the FCC. I was singing along when it came time for Daltrey’s immortal line “I hope I die before I get old”. Imagine my surprise when, in stark contrast to my own singing, the television speakers replaced that line with “Don’t wanna die. Wanna get old”. Whaaaaaat!?  It was a sincere disappointment, only worsened by the irony of a pop-rapper selling the Who out for a mobile-media corporation.

The halftime show itself, performed by an aging Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend, was also pretty tough to watch. Both musicians looked like they were fighting to stay on their feet, much less sing and play some of their own quintessential songs of the sixties. It saddened me to see such a pale reflection of the once great musical ensemble. Selections included “Baba O’Reilly”, “Pinball Wizard” and “See Me, Feel Me”. While I found their “Won’t Get Fooled Again” a wholly appropriate and well-timed selection, I thought taking two songs from Tommy, particularly its two biggest hits, was a strictly sellout move. Later, it was explained to me that these songs were selected in recognition of the CSI television franchise (produced by, you guessed it, CBS) use of the Who in their opening montages. I got the impression that Roger and Pete had a good idea of the underlying irony of their situation, and perhaps for that very reason they (rightly) avoided “My Generation,” but all the same, the show was a disappointment. Now, to be fair, I don’t want to pretend that I hold the authority to bash living legends like the Who; when choosing an act for the Super Bowl halftime show, you must keep in mind the exceedingly broad audience that will be listening in. The Who being an older, veteran group, CBS could all but guarantee a controlled performance that would mildly appeal to millions without getting too edgy. And what does the opinion of a fan born in the late 80’s really matter anyway? All the same, seeing the pale reflection of a band you love is never pleasant.  Certainly, the Who’s time has come and gone. At the very least, the lightshow was exceptionally well executed.

Perhaps the best thing about the Super Bowl is that it grants us the opportunity to criticize and pass judgment on a major cultural event among friends. As with the Johnsonville Press, it’s really not about Who’s right or wrong; it’s about talking about stuff with friends, food and sometimes, alcohol. I had fun watching the Super Bowl this year. It is my hope that this article persuades some of my more elitist friends to join me next year, or anytime, to chill out and talk shit.