All things that "strike a chord" in me.
I have a confession to make. You may call me un-American, you may question my masculinity, but I can’t keep quiet about it any longer: I really don’t care about the Super Bowl™.
I know. How dare I besmirch the honorable name of professional athletics?! Oh, wait . . . they’ve done that pretty well on their own.
Now, I am going to a Super Bowl party, but, in the interest of full disclosure, that’s mostly because there will be food, friends, and members of the opposite sex there. As far as the game itself is concerned . . . I simply have no interest whatsoever.
I’ve never been interested in athletics in general, largely because I’m not exactly what one would call athletic. I’m a piano player and a pop culture geek. Sports is barely a blip on the radar for me. I don’t have anything against sports, per se . . .
Well, that’s not exactly true. I get a little annoyed when I hear about professional athletes whine about not being paid enough. You see, my dad and my stepmom are both teachers (or were before they retired). The fact that the guys playing in the Super Bowl™ get paid as much or more for playing a GAME than teachers do for shaping and educating the children of our nation is somewhat disconcerting. But maybe that’s just me.
In any case, I hope that your sports squadron of choice scores more goal units than the opposing squadron. Let me know who wins; I’ll be over by the food table.