Our National Pastime

Okay people, it’s time to face facts. When God created sports, He started with football. Not the goofy and tedious game of kick-ball Europeans play, but real, red-blooded, American Football. Yeah, with a capital “F.”

Sorry Canada, that ain’t football you’re playing. As for you Australia, I don’t even know what to call that sport. Looks more like rugby to me. And those refs in lab coats…what’s up with that??

Over the years there have been many attempts to copy our true national pastime. The XFL, BYFL, and Arena League come to mind—don’t get me started about the abomination that is Lingerie Football! But as with all imitations, they fail to satisfy because they just don’t have the raw power, and emotion of the real thing.

So Sunday is the 47^th “Big Game.” Hey NFL, listen up: Sunday is Super Bowl XLVII. Yeah, I said it. Whaddya gonna do about it, huh? Sic your hoards of lawyers on me? Use the might of your billions of dollars to take away my van? Go ahead and try it!

Sorry if I got a little cheesed right there, but they really do make me angry.

Now I’m a huge football fan. If I could, I’d cut baseball and basketball season in half and give it to football. Of course that could never work, because football players actually get hurt while playing. They’re not like some nancy-mary baseball pitcher who has to rest for five games after every start because he might get a sore thumb. Still, the fact is that the NFL has gotten too big for it’s britches!

From a business perspective, they have been wildly successful. The marketing and husbanding of their brand is a model for anyone with something to sell. But this nonsense of trademarking the term “Super Bowl” really chaps my heinie!

Oh, you didn’t know that? Haven’t you ever wondered why everyone from Advertisers to Zoroastrians calls it the “Big Game?” Well it’s because they don’t want to be sued into oblivion by the NFL that’s why! They’re so big and so powerful in the world of sports that can use roman frickin’ numerals with a straight face!

I love you NFL, but get over yourselves! When you won’t even let people talk about the crown jewel of the sports’ year without paying you money, you begin to resemble some mafia thug shaking down the local fruit peddler. You should be ashamed of yourselves!