The Super Bowl was dominated by undisciplined Seahawk players and lucky plays.
The game on TV was dominated by commercials with cute kids and cuter dogs. In some instances, the cute kids and cuter dogs were in the same commercial.
Advertising the Super Bowl XLIX avoided tasteless sexual jokes and monkeys. Either football fans were growing up, or castor oil is the new drink of choice for the NFL.
The Seahawks played catch-up, but they were all caught up by the time halftime rolled around. If you let vampires rise from their graves because you forgot to bring the stakes, you know the ending will not be pretty.
We did enjoy seeing Katie Couric and Bryant Gumbel changing little over twenty years in their spot together, and we found Lindsay Lohan as an irresponsible mother of a cute kid (or child predator) even more darkly humorous.
When you juxtapose this with the rah-rah attitude of Pete Carroll, we started rooting for Bill Belichick and Arnold coming back for another Terminator movie. Arnold playing himself as a young man is nearly as credible as Tom Brady turning back the clock.
The Patriots also had to be rooting for the new Jurassic Park movie wherein old dinosaurs come back to life. It was a foreshadow or augur of the second half.
If the Seahawks want to win the game, they will have to stop deflating their own balls in the second half.
The predicted snowfall in New England was downgraded during the game to about a foot. So too, the margin of Patriot victory seemed to tumble to frightening proximity. At least the Pats weren’t losing as the half ended.
We chose not to watch the spectacle.
We must admit we were wondering how they got that singer down off the roof of the stadium. Her little star seemed to be in the ascent as the show went to commercial.
By the time the second half began, we blinked and found that the domination by the Patriots had resulted in a falling behind. Those turnovers were definitely sour prune.
Next thing we knew, our evil twin had bopped us on the head, had stolen our remote, and when we awoke, we were in the middle of the grounds of Downton Abbey, not the gridiron of Glendale, Arizona.
Of course, Downton went to the dogs immediately. There we witnessed a slimy art dealer forcing his way into Lady Cora’s boudoir just as her husband Lord Grantham returned from the regimental dinner. Fisticuffs ensued, when a struggle resulted in the remote being returned to the Patriot-Seahawk game. There too we found a donnybrook!
You needed a scorecard to identify the fighters on Downton or on the Patriots. Even more amazing, Lord Grantham’s butler Carson normally does it for the household, but Lord Belichick’s Butler named Malcolm did it for the Patriots.
The final two minutes featured errant bounces out of the paranormal, an interception on the goal line, and flying fists at Gronk turning into a brawl. We haven’t seen a football fight like this since Errol Flynn started one in his classic western, Dodge City.
What an evening of football and culture! We could not tell if we were watching Downton or the Super Brawl.
In all this mess, the Patriots won, and Lady Edith was about to kidnap her child and run off to London. On the distaff side, Lord Kraft was about to kidnap the Super Bowl trophy from Roger Goodell and run off to Foxoboro. What a night.
And a blizzard was about to hit New England as an anticlimax.