But I watched last night's game My streak is at 60. I started to watch a bit of halftime, but the music is not my music. Reminds me of being on the C train as soon as we got to Brooklyn. Not even a raft of shaking female behinds could sway me. So I left TV on and did something else.
I guess Bad Bunny was trying to give us the impression of cutting sugar cane in Puerto Rico. I have nothing against a guy who wants to dress like a rabbit. In fact, I got a kick of him when he reminded Trevor Howard, host of the recent Grammys, that when Trevor asked if he could come live with him in Puerto Rico since things are so bad here in the States, Bunny didn't miss a hop, and reminded Trevor that Puerto Rico is part of the United States. One woke drone shot down.
I get a kick out of telling people that once upon a time a white, singer-songwriter, woman, Mary Chapin Carpenter, stood on a stage at halftime with her band and sang, "Down at the Twist and Shout." Once upon a time things really were simpler.
I remember Springsteen almost sliding into a cameraman; Shakira and J-Lo spinning on poles: Madonna climbing up and down on blocks while singing and seemingly putting her life in danger.
Of course the most memorable halftime award has to go to Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake who while singing "Rock Your Baby" got to the end of the song with the lyric, "bet I'll have your body by the end of this song," and quick as you can, pulled on a Velcro piece of fabric and exposed Janet Jackson's left breast.
My wife came into the living room and I told her I've just seen Janet Jackson's left breast. She thought I was mistaken.
No, the earthquake that followed that 2004 halftime show took a long time to stop registering on the Richter Scale.
The Super Bowl commercials that have become a hallmark of creativity were hardly cutting edge this year. Sophia Vergara stepped into a pair of Skechers, and I think appeared in some other commercial where she's in a plane. Like a lot of commercials I couldn't tell you what they were selling. I wonder how many people have ever appeared in more than one commercial in any one year.
Lots of A.I. themed ads, with one fellow putting his foot up on a desk relaxing because his work for the day was done: he got A.I. to do it. Who the "f'" are they kidding? If A.I. is doing his work, who needs him? His free time will be spent, unshaven, at the unemployment office. Tell it like it is.
I wasn't taking notes, but one produce/service? was using Justin Timberlake's song "Rock Your Baby" as its backdrop. I wonder if anyone realized that.
Moronic commercial? I'll nominate Will Shat (William Shatner) telling America we need more fiber in our diets. He's pitching Kellogg's Raisin Bran cereal. "Shat," how cute. What the hell is that, the past tense of "shit" as a verb? Yep, the OED tells me: verb pa. t. & pple: see shit verb. The "p" stands for past; the "t' stands for tense; "pple" stands for participle. Does anyone realize that they finally zipped a form of "shit" to be said on mainstream television? I never liked Shatner anyway.
Come to think of it, the right amount of fiber in your system and you might be able to tell anyone who will listen that you just "shat" and now feel better. Maybe they were going for that all along. Just saying.
But of course there was a game in between all this. Thank goodness. Perhaps not exciting with a defensive show being put on by the Seahawks, but certainly enjoyable, if that's where your allegiance (or money) was headed.
Mike Tirico and Chris Collinsworth were good as the announcers. Chris, because he played the game couldn't help remarking that what was being displayed was a defensive gem by the Seahawks. It was.
The only slight charge of electricity came at the end, when there was hope that the Patriots would surge in the final moments and tie the game. Nope.
All week long I checked the points spread and the over/under. I do not bet on sports, but I told my wife that if I did, I would take Seattle and give the 4½ points and take the under in the over/under set at 45½ points. With a 29-13 score for a total of 42 points the under looked in danger as the Patriots seemed to come to life. Didn't happen. The under stood.
Sixty. I never thought about it, but 60 in 2026 is the number of Super Bowls played, as well as the 60th anniversary of my high school graduation.
I got an email from the Alumni people informing its members that in October they were scheduling several class reunions, and that 1966, was the featured class. If interested, answer the short survey as to desired format (buffet, sit-down dinner, etc.) if you were to attend. I thought why not, and filled it out. It's just a short trip into the city.
I emailed the only classmate I've kept in touch with and asked him if he would attend as well. He lives in Lancaster, Pa, but still has several family members in the New York City area. He said it might be nice to see some other old fossils.
I distinctly remember getting a haircut the Monday after the first championship game in 1967, when it was the showdown between the N.F.L. and the A.F.L., and bragging rights as to which was the better league.
The barber near the flower shop had the radio on, and it must have been one of those talk shows when whoever was talking was trying to give Kansas City some credit for only being behind 14-10 at the half. The sports talk of that era was filled with viewing the upstart A.F.L. as playing inferior football to the N.F.L.
That first game ended with Green Bay winning 35-10; it was called a Championship game, as was the second meeting the following year between the Green Bay Packers and the Oakland Raiders, with Green Bay winning, 33-14. The A.F.L. was still considered inferior.
But the leagues were merging and the third meeting was really the first Super Bowl. But Pete Rozelle, the N.F.L. commissioner that all football owners should pay homage to, called that championship game between the Jets and the Baltimore Colts the Super Bowl, and labeled it III, Roman numerals, to portray it as a historic clash fit for the Roman Coliseum. Thus, Roman numerals have forever followed, reaching undecipherable, and impractical lengths.
Sitting in that barber chair in 1967 I was not thinking ahead as to what I, or the rest of world would look like in 60 years. I was making no projections. Sixty years hence was not even a thought. One year hence wasn't either.
Now I've got 60 years to look back on, and will perhaps get to share some memories with classmates in October. What can I say now 60 years hence?
It's been a surprise.
http://www.onofframp.blogspot.com
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